[iBLASTinside] Weaving a Cocoon

[Feeder]

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We all bleed. And it's all pink on the inside.

That explanation came from an asshole I knew at university. His misogynistic ways stuck with me somehow -- surprise, surprise. Still an impressionable young gay man, a small group of elite intellectuals sat in a circle discussing something about authority. Liberal arts education at its best.

My friend, who explored women with the subtlety of a great white shark on a feeding frenzy, spoke of how women -- no matter their race, religion, size or texture, should put out at the end of a date.

The females in the class expressed horror, although by that point, most had taken a ride on his cock and experienced his tongue on their clits. We'd discussed this is detail. We both had mutual interests. His interest -- curiosity about fucking ass, even men, since he figured it would increase his chances of getting some at the end of the evening. Mine was the mind of a straight man. So we'd dined together and discussed our respective sex lives.

As he spoke of women putting out and the incredulous women screamed in dismay, the room came to a silence that happened naturally. One of those odd moments that just seems to happen.

"I really don't know why you expect women to put out all the time," I told him, in front of everyone. "You've been to my apartment. I've fixed you dinner. You've never put out for me."

There's this moment sometimes when "silent" isn't a sufficient enough word. It's as if the entire world has had the volume turned down and everyone has gone deaf. It only lasts for an instance, but in that moment, there's an eternity. And if a pin dropped somewhere across the planet, it would sound as if a thousand cymbals crashed to the floor simultaneously.

Then the room erupted and my friend dropped his jaw like he had dick-suckers cramp. Girls from my class piled on me in appreciation for delivering the blow that shut him up.

But the truth of the matter in all that fun and discussion of sex and food, misogyny and dating, I was alone. For all the fun, support and wit, the professor could see what was going on.

That evening, as we each headed off to our dorms and apartments or to whatever drinking destinations, the hairy, disheveled poly sci professor took me aside and imparted some wisdom that here, years later, I don't recall a fucking word.

And so, on a Saturday evening, more than two decades later, four months to the day after I watched my Mother die, I'm drowning my sorrows in Diet Coke. I'm wishing it was something stronger. It's been a shitty week and it does no good to explain in detail here.

I started this blog to explore my sex life. I didn't intend on making friends. I didn't have any intentions. I just wanted to explore. Then, when my Mom got sick, I crossed into a place I didn't know how to escape. How do I explain that I didn't feel like fucking. That my cock could just fall off and I didn't care. I'd have given up fucking forever to see my Mother get well.

That didn't happen, of course. And I returned to fucking. But something hasn't been the same for me. I debated whether to tell you all. And for a while, I didn't.

Can you say that pain inspires you? Maybe you could give up your grieving easily. But now I feel utterly alone. Some of you probably couldn't give a shit. I don't blame you. I don't much give one either right now. Not that I'm going to off myself or something stupid like that.

So the shitty week actually isn't inspired by my Mother, my birthday or anything else. It comes from a crappy boss. I've worked for this person for years and to get a single pat on the back is close to impossible. A promotion has been dangled out in front of me but in order to get it, yours truly needs to become submissive.

Being that I'm a Dominate personality, I'm not one to back down. I'm in Georgia and let's face it, being out, being gay and being visible has its detractions. In a professional environment, the prejudice can be overwhelming. One person at my current company -- a person of significant stature and in a position of power -- told me because I was gay, he would do whatever he could to assure I was not successful and would fail at every task I attempted. I informed my boss of this. I was told this was a "personality deficiency" that I would need to overcome.

So I am deciding if I can be a cum-collecting pussy. If I can suck it up, literally, in order to get a promotion. Is it within my personality to be submissive and bow to the Master.

What, again, I've not told everyone is just how many people in my life rely on my income. I am the majority breadwinner for a lot more people than most would realize. So flipping off my boss and walking away seems like a good idea if you're on your own for your own principals. But when others rely on you, you can't do it so flippantly.

So what am I to do. To be honest, I have gone against my nature by writing this. I shut down Thursday night and barely did anything. But I decided tonight to write this. To tell the world. I'll get some shitty responses (which I probably will reject).

I am considering a significant life change. Not just with my job. Now that Mom and Dad are gone, I have more choices. People may rely on me, but I don't have to be here in Georgia to assure they get the help they need.

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