Category Archives: Life, Living and Loving

Life, Living and Loving: Distractions

On September 3, at 0602, I got the phone call that I knew was coming but didn’t want to get: My mother had died, having lost her battle with an insidious blood cancer and one that decided to tack on some leukemia as well.

When she told me about the blood cancer and that there was no cure, it was a matter of when, not if. I can’t seem to stop thinking about the irony of things: This woman underwent one of the most dangerous surgical procedures that few people survive: Repairing a dissected upper aorta. And she came through with flying colors; not only that but when I got to the hospital and found out what was wrong and all that, well, I freaked the fuck out and more so when I’d had a similar surgery to repair an abdominal aortic aneurysm.

She was as cool as the other side of the pillow, well, until the surgical prep team started sticking needles in her. For a very Christian woman, my mom sure could cuss like a sailor.

As time went on after that surgery, she’d have fantastic days and some that would wind up hospitalizing her for as short as a day or two or, sometimes, longer. She battle pneumonia – mostly – and it seemed as if they couldn’t really knock it all out but eventually, they did. Before her surgery, she’d wind up going in for transfusions when the blood cancer would drop her hemoglobin levels below 7 but after the repair, eh, they only had to transfuse her once that I knew about.

She was on a medication that was keeping the blood cancer pretty much in check… but she was still having very good days and not so good ones. One of the symptoms of this cancer is an enlarged spleen and it went from not bothering her – due to the medication – to really starting to bother her.

Things were just starting to go down hill. I got a call one morning that she was back in the hospital, throwing up, complaining about her side hurting really bad; they run her through COVID testing and her white cell count is very high, usually an indication of some kind of infection but after more testing, whoa – she has leukemia? Where did that come from? I didn’t recall reading about this happening when I read up on the blood cancer itself. The doctors decided to put her on a medication to deal with the leukemia but, really, all it did was make her feel worse. Her own doctors disagreed with the leukemia diagnosis but, it seemed that the blood cancer was getting worse. So they took her off the leukemia medication and she was feeling better once it got out of her system.

Until she wound up back in the hospital not two weeks later. The leukemia was confirmed and much debate about what, if anything, could be done at this point. Removing her spleen, well, that might have helped some but at this point, she was physically too weak to endure the surgery. Targeted radiation was talked about but I guess it was kicked to the curb as well, either by the doctors or my mom who, understandably, now had a great dislike for being in the hospital.

All she wanted to do was to go home. I talked to her on the 31st of August and she was in good spirits but told me she was tired… and I knew what she meant by that. I Facetimed with her on September 1st and she was lucid… but stoned out of her mind thanks to the pain meds they were giving her to keep her ailing spleen at bay. Called to check on her on September 2nd and her husband told me she was having a down day; didn’t feel like talking and the fact that they had moved her to hospice just cemented things in my mind.

I’d been preparing myself for this moment… for years. You know that one day, she’s gonna die and by some means and knowing this just fucking sucks. Two of my siblings are gone; my father is gone and one day, my 80-year-old-plus mother will leave. It sucks even more to know that what was wrong with her was incurable but you just never give up hope so easily and you try to maintain that “hope for the best but plan for the worst” thing in your mind.

And through it all, she was unafraid because, as she would say time and time again, “I know God has me and will take care of me.”

Then the call; the time I got it and who I got it from told me what had finally happened. And here it is, four days later, and I still don’t know how I feel about it. The grieving will come but, as I told my step-father, life still goes on because it has to. Arrangements being made; talking to and checking on my sister to see how she’s holding up and more so when she’s the executor. Talking to other family members who are asking me if I’m okay and maybe they don’t believe me when I tell them that I am even though I’m kinda numb, too. I told… someone who asked me if I was holding up, “Ask me again in a few days – the answer will be very different.”

I miss her. I was so used to talking to her – even via Facetime – pretty much every day and, yeah, I’m finding myself looking at the clock and automatically thinking that we’ve either not heard from her yet or we need to give her a call… then the stark reality that I will never hear her voice again; I’ll never be able to kid her about her weird food combinations or how much ice cream she’s been indulging in. Won’t be able to tell her, again and again, that of all the people I’ve ever met in my life, she’s the most amazing and strongest person I’ve ever had the pleasure to know and so much that if she weren’t my mother, I’d want her to be my mother.

Her strength. Her unshakable belief and faith in God and no matter what got thrown her way and life threw some major shit at her and from a lot of directions. She wasn’t a quitter; she wasn’t the kind of person to sit back and let someone else fight her battles. She was an amazing person.

And now… she’s gone. And, yes, it hurts. I kinda had to laugh for a moment to think that I’m now a 64-year-old orphan and, of course, along with my sister. It’s not as if she was taken away “all of a sudden” or unexpectedly so; no, I knew this was going to happen and there was nothing anyone – except maybe God – could do about it. It doesn’t make it really any better, though. I’m numb. Very sad. And I’m okay with it, too. The usual platitudes about her not suffering any longer and knowing the hospice procedures that would allow her to pass away peacefully.

It won’t be “real” until the funeral, which is in a couple of days. It’s really gonna hit me and I know it will and I’m okay with that. I try to assess my frame of mind and, admittedly, it’s not all that good but I know the “cure” for that is to just keep doing what I normally do… it just really sucks not to be able to say to her, when she’d ask what I’ve done today, “A whole lot of nothing!”

There’s a lump in my throat and the screen is kinda blurry… and I’m actually smiling because I know that God has her so she’s okay…

And so am I. I wrote this because I had to. Been talking to a lot of people and that’s good but this, too, is about what’s in my head and whatever’s there, well, it has to be let out or, as that line from the Sonic commercial went, “There’s barely enough room in there for me!”


Posted by on 7 September 2020 in Life, Living and Loving



Life, Living and Loving: Mrs. Feve’s September Song Project II – Ravel’s “Bolero”

As a formally and classically trained musician, studying orchestral music was pretty mandatory including The Masters: Bach, Beethoven, Chopin, and others; the music we hear today has its roots in the classics.

I remember watching the movie, “10,” starring Dudley Moore and Bo Derrick and it was, I guess, a bit ahead of its time and probably gave the movie censors a fit. One of the highlights of the movie was the notion of making love while listening to Bolero. Musically, the piece is… sensual but not in some kind of “bump and grind” way – and that, too, is also a title of another song that’s, ah, more to the point of things.

For anyone who saw “10,” let’s see a show of hands for all those who did, indeed, tried to make love while Bolero played in the background! Yeah… me, too, and let’s say that the results were… mixed, at best. There’s a lot of music out there one can make love to but there’s a kind of a trick to it.

We listen to music but for music to be able to arouse – and in any way that’s applicable – you have to be able to feel the music; it has to touch you in certain ways and in certain places: It has to move you and the more it moves you toward sensuality, eroticism, and sex itself, the better. Then, there’s a particular way to listen to music that’s involved – hear it, feel it, but not being focused on the music. This can be difficult if one isn’t able to, well, kinda multitask and sex is one of those things that doesn’t always lends itself to multitasking, not through any fault of the people involved but it’s just the way the mind tends to work.

It’s like, “Look, we’re either gonna listen to the music or we’re gonna (add something sexual here)! Make up my mind already!” So it didn’t surprise me a whole lot that the partners I tried this with were either paying attention to Bolero… or paying attention to what I was doing. For myself, the “listening without listening” thing was just second nature – it’s one of the things you wind up learning and more so when a piece of music says, “with feeling” and now you’re trying to do this while playing your instrument and while listening to the interactions of the other instruments (if applicable).

I recall asking my high school band director, when we went from marching band mode to concert band mode, “When they say ‘with feeling’, who’s feelings are we talking about? Yours as the director? Mine as the performer? The concert band as a whole?”

He laughed and said, “Good question but to find the answer, listen to the original piece done by, say, the Philadelphia Orchestra – and, as a matter of fact, we all should listen to it!”

Um, my fellow band members weren’t happy that I managed to pile something else on us – learning the piece we were playing was difficult enough. But we listened and, as instructed, listened for ‘with feeling’ meant. It’s reading the music, playing your instrument, keeping an eye on the “maestro,” and listening to your fellow performers so that the band, as a whole, can play the ‘with feeling’ parts as one single entity… and no matter how you, personally, are actually feeling.

Now think about trying to apply this to having sex. Bolero isn’t what I’d call a complicated piece, you know, not like listening to Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos. It’s… sensual. Moving. Has a feel to it along the lines of mood music. Kinda. If the sex that’s needed is the, ah, very vigorous type, Bolero isn’t the piece of music you wanna be listening to. If the sex that’s needed is, indeed, the slow, sensual kind, yeah, it could work but the timing of the piece might not be all that slow – it’s written in 3/4 time and a time signature probably best known for waltzes and, yeah, it was originally written for ballet. So it could be slow enough and it might not be. But there’s another trick here and that’s to ignore the piece’s timing – your body is almost going to want to move in time with the piece’s “beat” when it should be moving to its feel or, really, how it’s making you feel and with the hope that your partner will not only be able to feel it in some way but can get in sync with your sense or feel for the music.

Oh, yeah – it would help if ya had a liking for this kind of music. My “Bolero partners,” well, they weren’t fans of this type of music; never listened to this type of music, never heard of it – unless they watched “10” – and some of them hadn’t. Sex, like so many other things, is about timing and, of course, it’s the kind of timing that one employs more by feel than anything else unless, um, you’re one of those people who are prone to think about the number of seconds or minutes required to orally induce your partner to orgasm. If so, well, hmm – Bolero’s time signature and the flow of the piece is going to throw you way off.

Having sex – or making love, if you prefer – to Ravel’s Bolero is quite the exercise and, in a lot ways, it can be counterintuitive; long and slow sex can be, well, very slow and Bolero’s signature just might be “too fast.” It sounds kinda Zen, perhaps, but it’s about being one with the music, letting it surround you and be immersed in it… while doing sex stuff. Listening without listening; feeling both the emotion of the piece while mixing in the emotions of passion and lust and love (if applicable). It’s being able to figure out what Bolero is saying to you, while your partner is, hopefully, trying to do the same thing – and then, again, being in sync with each other and the music… while not losing focus or being distracted.

Don’t feel some kind of way if you can’t do it: Most people can’t and my first time making love to Bolero was, um, quite the learning experience; it’s kinda like having to learn how to make love all over again – and I’ll leave it at that.

If you were to give this a try, I’d recommend that you first listen to Bolero and pay attention to how it feels to you and if you can get a partner to listen to it as well, so much the better. As a musician, well, this is kinda easy for me to do and so much that I often catch myself getting the feel of a piece of music and it’s interesting since I’ve learned to do that without having to think about it. That and I also happen to love this kind of music. There are, of course, all kinds of music that can be… suitable for lovemaking but if there’s a piece that gained some notoriety, it’s Ravel’s Bolero.

And, yeah – that part of the movie was pretty hot and sensual. Bo Derrick was just drop-dead gorgeous and sensuality just oozed out of her while Dudley, well, hmm, okay, it just wasn’t all that hard to figure out why he was so obsessed with her as well as why he also felt that he wouldn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of being intimate with her. Don’t take my word for it – if you can, watch the movie even if it’s just to refresh your memory.


Posted by on 5 September 2020 in Life, Living and Loving


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Life, Living and Loving: Mrs. Feve’s September Song Project II – Waiting for the World to Change

As a bisexual man, wow – I’ve been waiting for the world to change for a very long time. I love the song by John Mayer, both musically and lyrically. It’s one thing to know that, in this, the world has needed to change and should have changed a very long time ago; it’s another thing to know that, one day, the world is going to change their minds about this not being straight nonsense.

It’s another thing to also know that there are a lot of people who aren’t willing to sit back and wait for the world to change; they want to know about this and they want to know what it’s like… and if, as they are of a mind to think, it’s the right thing for them.

I write that it’s not like we – collectively – don’t have a clue as to how diverse humans can be about having sex, being in love, stuff like that. We do whatever we need to do in any of this and even if it’s in clear defiance of the status quo. We know it. We’ve always known it. And we keep being all bitchy about it because that ain’t the way things are supposed to be.

You’d think that once homosexuals won their hard-fought battle to be recognized and treated like everyone else, that would have been the impetus to get the world onto the path of changing their minds about that which they believe in this… but, no. Well, wait a moment; perhaps it’s better to say that there’s not been a worldwide, wholesale change in mindset but as change is wont to do, it happens slowly and regardless to any resistance in its path.

It’s just that the world ain’t changing fast enough, that change is, again, long overdue. I think it’s not so much a thing about accepting that both bisexuality and bisexuals are real; it’s more of a thing of us stopping all this bullshit over something that cannot be stopped… and any more than it was tried to stop homosexuality. We have such a long history about our dislike for change; for every person who is okay with a change, there will always be someone who is very unhappy about that same change.

There are an untold and innumerable group of people who are fervently waiting for the world to change; they need it to change and the sooner, the better… and I’m wondering if we really and truly need the world to change its collective mind about the reality of bisexuality and bisexuals and more so since so many of us are of a mind that we’re gonna be bisexual whether anyone else likes or approves of it.

And, yes – as I’m writing this, the song is playing in my head and is on repeat. It’s a song with a message and one that, at least to me, says that we need to be better about a lot of stuff and the reality is that we’re just not there yet and it doesn’t look like we’re gonna get there any time soon.

Even within the dynamic of bisexuality, things are changing… and not so much and, as you know, I find it fascinating to see how it’s been changing, from the way I grew up with it to the way it’s being handled today… but how some things, again, hasn’t changed one iota. Not because those who find themselves being bisexual can’t accept the change in their mindset and/or behaviors… it’s just that there are still a whole lot of people who are unable to. The dynamic has taken a turn and one that, when I think about it, well, I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or not: Applying heterosexual norms to something that, by its very nature, defies those same norms. No casual sex; only sex in a relationship setting or otherwise trying to put the bisexual genie back in the bottle.

I’m not saying that it can’t be this way… I’m just saying it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense for bisexuality to be handled only in this way. It is what we know and even bisexuals are having a difficult time changing what they know so that it better fits the way they want to be… or the way they can be.

Call it impatience but a lot of bisexuals, again, aren’t of a mind to sit on their asses and do nothing while waiting for the world to change. Many have learned – and are learning – that, really, one does not need the world’s permission to be who and what they want and/or need to be – and no matter why they’ve effected this change for themselves. Maybe a lot of this has been born out of instant gratification? If this is the satisfaction you need right now, what’s the point and purpose in waiting for the rest of the world to get onboard with this?

Does one really need a permission slip? Is the change of acceptance just some pie-in-the-sky wishful thinking, like, it would be great if the world did change so that no one would feel bad about being bi and not all that likely to get their head handed to them because they are? Sure… that would be nice… but if I were you, I wouldn’t be holding my breath on this one.

Because while we do have a long history and habit of resisting change, we’ve also been of a mind to do what we gotta do and if anyone doesn’t like it, well, tough titty. Bisexuals – and for the longest time and due to the lack of change – have been of a mind that they’re gonna do what they gotta do and by any means necessary. Fly under the radar? Fine – if that’s what has to be done, so be it. Be all out in the open with it? Great if you can manage to do it and keep your head on your shoulders.

The song is still on repeat in my head… because many of us are waiting for the world to change… and maybe we shouldn’t; maybe bisexuals should be agents of change and, just as homosexuals did, force change and keep pushing for it no matter how long it takes…

And, in the meantime, lots of men and women are gonna be getting their freak on in this dual mode of human sexual behavior. The only fear they should have is the fear of not doing what they want to do… and then throw that fear out and do it anyway and if the unchanged world doesn’t like it, well, fuck them.

I’m gonna get mine whether the world changes or not; why wait when, truthfully, you don’t have to? If the “same old shit” ain’t working for you and making you feel whole and complete, why wait for others to say it’s okay for you to change when you can be your own agent of change because one thing is quite true:

Those who fail to change will be left behind.


Posted by on 3 September 2020 in Life, Living and Loving


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Life, Living and Loving: Mrs. Feve’s September Song Project II – “September”

If this is the second go-round for this, I obviously missed the first one… or maybe I just didn’t pay any attention to it. Anyway… music as a muse; a great topic for someone who’s a musician.

So… “September,” a song by Earth, Wind & Fire. Bouncy. Lively. Nice groove and the Phoenix Horns strutting their stuff. Oddly a song some music critics didn’t like so much… but who asked them? It’s music I grew up with and from a group where you knew their music would be so good that when your heard they had a new album out, you went and got it as fast as you could.

I was born in September so the title, if not the song’s lyrics, tends to resonate with me. I had to really sit and think about exactly when the song was released – 1978 and on their greatest hits album and probably as a “filler” kind of piece and, usually, groups use such an album to introduce new music that didn’t make other releases.

1978 was a rough year; unemployment was pretty bad, lots of weed being smoked and, I thought, because the “let’s get high and just chill” thing was a good idea given the strifes of the time. All anyone wanted was a break, that chance to get their foot in the door and those who didn’t have a high school diploma or GED, let alone a college degree was finding it very difficult to get a job making any kind of “decent” money… and even if you had one – and like I did – that wasn’t a sure thing.

But in the music of the time, a lot of people found a way to escape the craziness and this particular song, with it’s bouncy beat and groove as well as its horns – something else that was a thing in the 70s with groups like Chicago and Tower of Power – well, it was a nice song to listen to, that and Earth, Wind & Fire had a way of “sneaking in” messages in their songs that could inspire or otherwise say to you that you just just hang in there and everything will be okay.

The song, to me, was about remembering happier times and I remember hearing the opening lyrics about the 21st of September and quipping, “What, you couldn’t have said the 23rd?” which, of course, was the day I was born. And, indeed: With the way things were going back then, remembering happier times and, yeah, even doing a lot of dancing, was better than worrying about getting a job or where your next meal was coming from or having a roof over your head.

If nothing else, you could always count on Earth, Wind & Fire to come out with a song that could lift your spirits or get you thinking about being in love. It was fun to get their latest album, throw it on the turntable, and just sit and listen for that one song that would mean something to you. The musician in me didn’t always pay so much attention to the lyrics and when I first heard “September,” I was deep into the song’s arrangement, using that special ability many musicians had to be able to single out the different parts and even see the notes in my head and as if the sheet music was right in front of me.

If nothing else, it took my mind off of whatever might have been bugging me and the song had a nice beat to walk to when I’d trudge my way to the restaurant I worked in. Sitting around with friends and family and just listening to their music was like an oasis of sorts… and a little wine and weed didn’t hurt much either.

“September” was a song from a time that, when compared to today, was actually easier in a lot of ways… but not without its own moments that sucked and not in a good way; for those who lived it, bleh, shit could have been better and a lot of people were falling into the pit of hopelessness. But this song, and like many others written at that time, was real music performed by real musicians and led by Maurice White who just seemed to have a way with music and lyrics. He could reach you, touch you with his lyrics and for the more upbeat songs, could get you on your feet and dancing like no one was watching you.

Because for a lot of people, there just wasn’t anything else to do.


Posted by on 1 September 2020 in Life, Living and Loving


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Life, Living and Loving: Fits and Starts… and Hiccups

If you manage to get through all of the stuff that needs to be done in order to agree to open up your relationship, there remains yet another hurdle: Finding someone – or someones – you can explore your newly-found (or newly won) freedom with.

If you had asked me, before all of this took place in my life, who’d I’d give my right arm to sleep with, I could have spent a week writing down the names of everyone I may have wanted to sleep with. After this life-changing moment?

Couldn’t think of anyone. Even worse, couldn’t even run into someone who, upon first glance, I could say, “Okay… that person might be fun!” Being bisexual, well, the male part of the equation wasn’t all that difficult since, in the majority of times, I didn’t have to go looking for a dick to play with – they’d find me and from “directions” that would have me getting that, “Who knew?” look on my face.

My biggest problem with women? Convincing them that I wasn’t lying to them when I’d tell them that I really did have permission to have sex with them, you know, if they were interested. It got to the point where I’d even tell them that if they didn’t believe me – and they didn’t – they could call my wife and hear it from her. Sometimes that worked, sometimes it just made women even more suspicious and suggest that I could have faked the confirmation and the woman they were talking to really wasn’t my wife.

As a guy, you get used to being summarily dissed by women and to the point when one tells you, nope, ain’t gonna happen, you just shrug, lick whatever tiny wound the rejection created – and as opposed to the huge, gaping wounds you could received and before you learned to get used to it – and keep searching for one who just might say yes. In this environment, whew – the rejection aspect was even more profound and in the early going, I thought, “What’s the point in being free to do something when it’s harder to make happen?”

Fits and starts… and hiccups. Even if you’ve developed a plan of action in these things there’s that saying the military has: No plan survives first contact with the enemy… and it is so very true! You learn that just because you and your partner have a plan – and maybe even several plans – in place, that doesn’t mean that those you might interact with, one, is going to go along with your plan or, two, doesn’t have a plan of their own that they’d prefer to put into play.

One of the things about being open that tends to defeat couples isn’t always what they may wind up doing – it’s the inability to do anything at all or you get someone interested, plans are made… and the whole kit and caboodle falls into a crack or otherwise never sees the light of day; the other person or persons gets cold feet, or realizes their own plan in this has way too many flaws, or one of their rules are in violation, or even, with couples, someone realizes that they’re in a position to wind up taking one for the team and/or the green-eyed monster arrives with all its bells and whistles on and, yeah – they just don’t believe a word you’re saying.

It’s frustrating to ask your partner, “Have you gotten any interest?” and they reveal the fits, starts, and hiccups they’ve been experiencing as well that might have the two of you asking what, if anything, you’re doing wrong… and chances are that you’re not doing anything wrong… you probably just kinda overlooked the fact that you still gotta be able to convince other people to have sex with you… and that can include anyone you do happen to know who may have said or even hinted that they wouldn’t mind having sex with someone who isn’t their partner.

Doesn’t mean that someone is going to be you. For a lot of couples, swinging is a “logical” solution and choice because, you know, swingers are just wild and crazy sexual animals who often have parties just for that purpose… and even in this, many find that this solution ain’t what it appears to be and being rejected – and for the tiniest of things – is just a way of life in the world of swinging. The hard thing to swallow in this is that they will tell you that if you get rejected, it’s not personal and, well, shit – I don’t know about you but rejection sure feels pretty damned personal to me.

Who wants to be told or have the feeling that you’re just not good enough for them? Now, it’s not that newly open couples cannot and do not have success in this venue – they do but it remains true in any of this that in order to have sex with someone, you still gotta convince them that doing so would be in their best interests.

Getting off the ground and running isn’t always that easy, from being able to find like-minded individuals or couples, to the ever-present specter of rejection and including all the fits, starts, and hiccups that seem to appear and more so when – and this the not-so-funny part – before y’all decided to be open, you were turning down offers for sex and almost as a matter of course.

What’s the solution? There’s only one that I know of and that is to not give up. Stick with it; remain dedicated to this; talk about any or all fits, starts, and hiccups and take a close look at your plan to see if there’s something that needs to be changed. Keep in mind that if you’re out there searching for others to play with, there are others out there doing the same thing… and the problem here is that unless you somehow make contact, there’s no way to know that they’re out there and looking just like you are.

You might even know someone – or someones – who might be interested and more so if you’ve ever heard them talking about it; hell, you may know someone who’d been hinting and hitting on you and you’ve – yeah – rejected them and, as such, they just might be gung ho to throw it down with you… but it might not be the slam-dunk you think it is.

That’s about the time you learn something very important: Thinking and doing really aren’t the same things. Even I learned that some folks can talk up a blue streak about how they’d love to get you in bed, you know, if you weren’t married (or otherwise in a relationship) but the moment you tell them, “Well, now you can!” um, shit, ah, all of a sudden, they don’t seem all that eager to make their fantasy about having you a reality – and if they believe you in the first place.

And they probably won’t. Again, it’s frustrating and a lot of couples just give up on their plans to be open. Sometimes it’s a waiting game; it can include being… daring enough to put out feelers to see if the person – or persons – you think would go for it are, in fact, of a mind to go for it. In this, you gotta be the ultimate salesperson and gain the skills necessary to counter – and even negate – any and every reason the others will offer about why they’re not going to get naked with you.

You have to be able to suspend their beliefs and, yeah, convince them that you’re not lying to them or – gasp – setting them up for something that’s gonna get them into trouble. You have to be ready and willing to tell them the whole story of why you’re asking them to have sex with you… while, at the same time, having the sure and certain understanding that they still – and probably – aren’t going to believe that your proposition to them is 100% legitimate.

And… it happens. It’s so easy to have spent an untold amount of time putting this being open thing together and now you’re ready to rock and roll… and it’s not happening or, worse, the fits, starts, and hiccups arrive to dash plans upon the rocks of failure. You should be proactive and learn from the failures, not only about yourselves and whatever plans you have but to take a look at the people you’re trying to entice into your bed and examine what their objections are – and then come up with a way to counter their objections.

It’s not easy and more so if, by chance, you already know someone – or some someones – who would be good playmates. It’s always good to know who is that open-minded about sex and that they just might have the same mindset about the flaws and fallacies of remaining monogamous… doesn’t mean that they’re gonna jump at the chance to have a roll in the hay with you and more so when we tend to abide by and hold true to the notion that friends don’t fuck their friends.

Which, of course, isn’t as true as it seems and, indeed, it tends to defy logic because we also tend to agree that it’s better the devil you know than the one you don’t. We say that screwing people we know – and know well – can destroy friendships and, yep – that can happen but – yep – it doesn’t always happen which, if anything, should make you pay closer attention to the people you know and determine if you can approach them or otherwise feel them out on the matter because the truth is that unless you ask, you’re never going to know.

Do your best to not let the rejections, fits, starts, and hiccups get you to thinking that doing this ain’t worth it and/or all you’re going to do is keep failing. More often than not, getting off the ground and running requires a great deal of patience as well as the ability to cultivate relationships with others and provided you’re fairly sure they can be convinced that not only are you as serious as a heart attack about this and as sincere and honest as possible, it’s going to be in their best interests for y’all to get together to, ah, gain some very biblical knowledge of each other.

In the first month of being officially open, I failed more than I succeeded and most of that was because I’m a guy – and everyone knows that men will say and do anything to get into a woman’s panties. Good lord… I don’t know how many times I said to someone, “I don’t know what I can do or say to convince you that I’m not lying and this is very much a real-deal kind of thing!” Sometimes you just gotta dust off those skills you put on the shelf, you know, the ones you used to convince people to have sex with you… when you were single.

It can take time… lots of time… or, yeah, sometimes, you hit gold right out of the gate. I can tell you what it takes to be able to be open; I can tell you – and in no uncertain terms – how not to do this… but I can’t tell you how to get other people into your beds – that’s something you’re gonna have to figure out for yourself. Do women have an “easier” time with this?

Not as much as you might think. Sure… they have the potential to get any dick they want… still gotta convince the guy that it’ll be in everyone’s best interest. Getting pussy? Might seem like a no-brainer… and it often isn’t and even if your female partner happens to knows women who are – or might be – kinda/sorta into women because there are a lot of such women who have been plied with the fear of the dreaded “L” word – lesbian. Or, if they are down with it, chances are they’re on the DL and doing everything they know how to do to keep their male partner – or even female partner if it’s like that – from finding out that they’ve been getting some on the side.

Does this give you any idea of why a lot of couples who try this wind up giving up on it? In the swinging pool, it’s often the woman who decides who gets to have sex with them… and even they are – and can be – funny about who gets to have sex with them, not to mention the guy who thinks he’s the one in control and calling the shots – and the guy who’s usually making a ton of rules about what his lady can’t do and what others aren’t allowed to do.

To that end, I stand by what I say about going out of your way to protect your relationship because you can invoke rules in a way that might protect your relationship… and it’s not going to get you what you want in this. It’s fine and dandy to have rules – to not have them, well, that makes no sense. However, when it comes to rules, the thing to remember is they do not have to be locked in lead or deemed to be unchangeable or non-negotiable. You still have to protect yourself at all times but when it comes to being open, y’all should talk about making it easier to do this more than talking about making it harder.

And throughout it all, you talk to each other… and keep talking because it’s the only way you’re gonna stay on the same page; it’s the only way you’re gonna be able to make adjustments and to be able to compare notes about those you are interested in can be very damned valuable.

If the fits, starts, and hiccups show up to toss huge monkey wrenches into the works, just do your best to remove them and keep moving forward. Being rejected or otherwise not believed that what you’re saying and proposing isn’t true? It’s gonna happen and you can’t – you shouldn’t – let these things dismay you whether y’all are going at this solo or going about it as a team.

Make a plan. Stick to it but be ready to revise it as necessary. Just don’t give up on it… and don’t just sit back on your cute asses and think that now that you’re open, suitable people are just gonna start flocking to you and lining up for their chance to experience sex with you.

Because one of the hardest things about being open is, in fact, the work you have to put in to be successful and that level of work can make remaining monogamous look like the easiest thing in the world to do. I can think of only one thing that’s even harder:

Starting a polyamorous family which has a lot of same “failure rates” as merely being open… and many more complications.

Did I mention how seriously deep this particular rabbit hole can be?

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Posted by on 14 August 2020 in Life, Living and Loving


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Life, Living and Loving: The Green-eyed Monster

Open marriages/relationships. Guys drooling over having a “hot wife.” On the surface, oh, yeah, this sounds like the shit to end all shits and while one tends to hear men talk about this a lot, it’s not outside the realm of possibility that a woman in a relationship would want more… intimacy than just being his sex partner can afford.

It’s the thing that always sounds good in theory. A couple can, if they’re not afraid to, sit down and talk about breaking free from monogamy – and usually in that “how can we spice things up” way. At this time, closely held fantasies can be revealed and even a very in-depth analysis of their sex life can take place and, um, that can be pretty brutal and hard to listen to, let alone hard to say to your partner.

I’ve told a lot of people who are of a mind that going this route would, they think and feel, be a fantastic thing that, okay, yeah – having been where they want to be? Absolutely amazing… and of the things that exposed some shit in me that I didn’t like and revealed that I was dumb enough to think that I could handle watching my woman having sex with someone else and like it was no big deal. Even after we spent an untold amount of time talking about a whole lot of stuff – and stuff that, as it turned out, neither of us really wanted to know or hear about – wow… and I can’t begin to tell you how upsetting that was.

The logic of it all makes sense; a couple can, if they’re forward-thinking enough, open-minded enough, grown up enough, and dedicated to each other enough, come to the joint conclusion that doing this will make them – individually and as a couple – better together. The thought of this is – and can be – exhilarating and very damned scary; it’s one thing to know or be aware that other couples have done this… something else when it’s the two of you trying to do this.

“How can me and my lady get into this?” A guy I knew asked me that question and I told him what I had learned about this and what it took for us to get to the moment when, instead of us being out there one-on-one with other people – and that really fucks with your head just to think about what you’re partner is out there doing with someone else and you don’t know what’s going on – making the decision to include others, well, yeah – that just made sense.

I told him how long we talked about this; what we talked about; what we even kinda argued about and especially how very hard it was to have these conversations because you tend to find out that you don’t know each other as well as you think you do or that you’ve both been going right along thinking that everything is A-OK… only to find out that, shit, not so much.

He asked, “Well, can’t we just agree to check this out?” and I said that, sure – you could… but that agreement isn’t going to happen easily. I told him that, obviously, he had his own thoughts about it but what he didn’t know – at that time – was what his lady might think about this. I also told him that I had learned – the hard way – that thinking about this is fairly easy; that knowing your partner is out there screwing other people is one thing and, again, not all that easy to wrap your head around… but seeing it? Being right there while it’s happening?

“I can handle it,” he said.

“I said the same thing,” I said. “Then found out that, for a moment that seemed to last forever – but was only a few seconds – that I couldn’t handle it as well as I thought I could.”

“Did you freak out?” he asked.

“I almost did but I got my shit together and remembered why we were doing this,” I said. “I got over it and everything turned out fine… but the conversation we had after the other couple had left was – let’s say it was very revealing; it exposed some things that we both had kinda glossed over or otherwise didn’t give as much thought to as we should have.”

“But I’ll tell you what your biggest problem is going to be right off the bat,” I said, shaking my head because while the guy was rather intelligent, he had no idea what he was trying to get into.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Bringing it up to your lady,” I said. “I’m thinking that you’re thinking that you know her, that y’all can talk about every- and anything and discussing this isn’t going to be any different but I’m also thinking that the moment you mention this, you’re gonna find out some shit about her that you didn’t know about. Even if you manage to bring it up and keep your head on your neck – and even if you can get her to agree that checking this out would be a good thing for both of you, that doesn’t mean that it’s gonna happen and no matter how much sense the whole thing makes.”

“I don’t see why she wouldn’t want to check it out,” he said.

“You don’t? Hah… you don’t know a whole lot about women, do you? Even if she tells you that she wouldn’t mind having more sex and with someone else, do you really think that means she’s gonna jump on the bandwagon and actually do it? Look… I can tell you and in no uncertain terms that this thing always sounds like a good idea… until you get into what it’s gonna take to do it – and I’m not even talking about getting to the point where the two of you are getting ready to do it!”

“You make it sound impossible,” he said.

“It isn’t impossible,” I said. “But you’d have to be able to explain to her – and in very great detail – why doing this would be a good thing for her to be a part of. A lot of women will profess how much they love sex and how much they love getting laid and they’re not lying about that… but you’re talking about introducing other people into your sex life together – think about that one for a moment.”

“So she’s just gonna say no?” he asked.

“Probably… and maybe not. Either way, you’re gonna find out some shit about her that you didn’t know about her – and that’s if she even bothers to let the conversation continue,” I said. “Do you really think she’s gonna reveal to you all of her secret sexual desires and like y’all are just talking about the weather?”

“Shit… so what should I do?” he asked.

“I can’t tell you that and I wouldn’t try to. If you think she’d be down with this, well, ask her… just don’t be surprised at how she might react to your proposition,” I said. “You know what they say – if you don’t ask, you won’t know… but they also say that you should never ask someone something that you really don’t want to hear the answer to.”

He did, as I found out later, propose being open to her. He said that after some long discussions – and having some painful shit revealed on both side – they agreed to give it a go. They found another couple to get busy with… and he freaked out something fierce and started a fight with the other guy – and while giving his lady a raft of shit for having the nerve to be enjoying the other guy more than she’d “normally” enjoy him.

Yep… that didn’t go or end well at all and it’s a hard object lesson. You really do have to relearn some shit about this and you sure as hell have to learn how to master – or keep in check – your emotions and, as always, I’m talking about the negative ones. He, like a lot of guys, thought he could handle watching someone else fuck his lady silly but, as I had told him, “Thinking it is one thing… but seeing it is a whole very different thing and more so when chances are you’re gonna find something else about her that you didn’t know… and you are most definitely gonna find out some shit about yourself that, before the fact, you didn’t give a lot of thought to because you thought you could handle it.”

I’ve seen so many couples try this… and fail… and catastrophically and fatally so…. and that’s just by being open in the first place, let alone introducing the group sex piece. Just trying to convince your partner that this would be of great benefit to one and all can be one hell of a thing to do and the more they believe in monogamy and marriage vows – and keeping in mind that unmarried couples are held to the same standards as married folks are – the harder it will be to convince them to do something that violates principles… even if they would agree that, yeah – that sounds like it would be fun.

Or, as I said to one couple, “If it was that easy, everyone would be into it…” Yeah, it’s one of those “lame” statements that kinda makes no real sense when you tear it down and look at it closely but it is a statement that says, even in a sort of backhanded way, that if you think this is gonna be easy, well, hmm.

The main issues? Jealousy is at the top of the list, followed by envy and possessiveness tends to arrive and, of course, anger, both with your partner as well as with yourself. Another issue is doing this for the “wrong” reason; to me, this means that if you’re not doing this for the betterment of your relationship and for the powerful love you have for each other, yeah, this might not be a good thing to do. If you’re not as mentally prepared to see your partner behaving in… very different ways, it’s going to make seeing it – and even knowing about it in the one-on-one, solo aspects of being open – you both just might be setting each other up to fail, not only in trying to do this but causing the relationship to suffer what might be a premature death.

Knowing what I went through in this? I’m pretty quick to try to talk couples out of going there. Is it possible a couple can do this and be successful as well as thriving as a couple? Indeed it is! It’s just not all that easy because, like I told that guy, the first roadblock to face is putting this proposal up for your partner to consider. Before you even let the words come out of your mouth, you need to have plans… and those plans need to have plans; you have to be ready to not only talk about the pros but all of the cons that are, most certainly, going to come up…

Provided your partner doesn’t shut the conversation down before you have a chance to explain why you think this would be a good thing to get into. If you think that men would be more… agreeable to this? Guess again and it might help to remember how territorial we can be about “our pussy.”

What does it take? A love so strong that you both just know that nothing can touch it and tear it apart. It takes a level of communication that is severely deep and the type that goes to everyone’s “secret” place, that and being able to tell each other about each other’s positives and shortcomings – and without getting totally pissed off about it. This level of communication takes time to get through so it’s not as if a couple is going to talk about it for a few minutes; it can take much longer than that and I can’t think of a more serious and even personal conversation a couple can have with each other.

And even if you manage to get through this, you still have to arrange to do it which usually means trying to convince another couple that getting naked with the two of you is gonna be fun and in their best interest… and being ready to deal with being rejected time and time again. Even if you manage to get through this part, you still have to bear witness to each other having sex with someone else – a moment of truth that is quite the bitch. Some go for the gusto and leave their inhibitions at the door; sounds like a good thing but the other member of the couple might not think so all that much.

Or, the opposite can happen; someone’s inhibitions slam into place – and they bring some friends and just make someone either freeze up or otherwise not allow them to enjoy things as much as they thought they would. I’ve heard so many guys talk about how excited – and painfully hard – they get to think about himself and his lady being in this moment… only to be in it… and they just cannot perform and to the point where they couldn’t get hard even if their life depended on it.

I’ve seen couples get into this and discover that they didn’t talk or plan things out as much as they thought; I’ve seen them create rules – which are needed – that, sometimes, makes sure that they will never have sex with another couple… or anyone else outside of the relationship. If you go into this with the thought in mind that doing everything you can to protect the relationship – like the real possibility of falling in love with someone outside of the relationship and the specter of loss hovering over everything – well, ya might not want to go there. Some couples go out of their way to control the actions of each other in this; to that end, if you have insecurities, chances are this ain’t gonna go well for either of you.

I say, over and over, that if a couple finds that this is what they need to do with and for each other, they first have to unlearn everything they thought they knew about love, sex, and relationships so they can learn a totally different way to go about this. I’m not joking or making light of things when I say that you really and seriously have to be grown up to get into this and you sure as fuck have to be able to keep whatever negative emotions you have – or wind up having – at bay, in check, and under as much control as you can manage.

And you have to talk. And talk some more. Not just in the planning phase but all throughout the life of this. People change; situations aren’t always so easy to control; and if the two of you aren’t working hard to stay on the same page with each other – and keep closely in touch with each other’s thoughts and feelings – both the good and bad – your success in this might be in jeopardy.

If you talk about this and your list of things you ain’t gonna do and cannot be allowed is longer than the list of things that can be done and is allowed, well, that’s not gonna work, not so much because such things cannot be agree upon but because the one thing I think a lot of couple who fail at this doesn’t take into account is, simply, someone changing their mind about what they want to experience. A lot of couples just fail to leave room for “shit” to happen; they don’t – or I think they don’t – consider how someone is going to react to someone else… and then there’s that whole “taking one for the team” thing that few people I know of care about all that much and the thing that, personally, makes me wonder about some stuff, like, how can you not be excited and raring to go to have sex with someone? Yeah, I know – attraction plays a huge role in this but the thing here is that attractions means different things to different people… and, honestly, it doesn’t work the way everyone thinks it does – or it should.

Do ya still think getting into this is easy? Lord… I hope not. It is complicated and I’m understating it and so much that a lot of couples rarely get out of the talking about it phase because this is a seriously deep rabbit hole that seems to be bottomless and you have to be “beyond” dedicated to each other and the relationship to have even the slightest chance of making this work.

Because if there’s one seriously glaring failure in this, it’s thinking “me” and not “us.” What’s gonna be good for me more than hashing out what is going to be good for the two of us and our journey through life with each other. Another is getting each other to suspend pretty much everything you believe in and while a lot of things can be set aside, belief is one that is never easy to set aside… and if you really and truly do not believe that this is going to be a good thing to do, well, I’ll be blunt and say you’re fucked – and most definitely in the good way that’s being proposed.

Having said all of this, if you can get through all of this, it’s an adventure and the kind that I’ve heard some couples say, “I don’t know why we didn’t do this before now!” It will change your lives, both as individuals and as a couple. There will be ups and downs and it makes the need to communicate even more important and understanding that if this thing gets up and running, it will not run all by itself. You gotta work at it… and in most cases harder than you would just keeping only onto yourselves.

And, I think, just as important, if everything isn’t negotiable or you’ve set up things that doesn’t allow for change… you will fail. If the communication isn’t wide open and honest – even if some of what’s talked about is kinda/sorta fucked up – you will fail. If you don’t learn to master the art of compromise, ditto. If you’re trying to convince your partner that this is what the relationship needs in order to thrive and survive – and you’re not gonna be willing to offer the reluctant partner anything they might want in this, guess what ain’t gonna happen?

Got insecurities? Trust issues? Thoughts of losing your partner makes you wanna throw up? Stuff like that? If you can’t learn together how to get rid of these things, well, I don’t know what to tell you other than don’t even go there.

And, yeah – the green-eyed monster will most certain show up and its only purpose is to take your most grandest plan for the greatest adventure of your lives… and just fuck it up in anyway it can. If you get it into your head that your partner is getting more out of this than you are – or they’re thinking the same thing, yep: That’s a problem and, again, I know I’m understanding the severity of the situation. If, in group settings, you feel like you’re being left out or even ignored, well, ya might want to, first, get that out of your head and, second, just get in there and have all the fun you can; otherwise, guess what’s gonna happen… and I can assure you that it’s not going to be good.

Sounds really good “on paper;” not even easy to make a reality. If you go there, failure in any of this cannot be an option and, believe me – a lot of shit is going to happen that’s gonna want to make you fail.

It can be done. I did it and for a very large portion of my life and I will point out that I was totally and completely against it – but I saw the necessity of it because the only thing worse than knowing what your partner is doing is not knowing what they’re doing. Heard some shit that, even today, makes me cringe just to think about it. None of it was easy but, yeah, if it were that easy, everyone would and could do it. The reality says otherwise and, as always, I remain the guy who has the nerve to say something about this.

I ain’t saying to never go there and especially if everything in your lives is, in fact, pointing in this direction; I’m just saying that getting into this will, most likely, be the hardest thing you’ve ever done, from bringing it up to actually doing it and making it work. It will expose you and your partner and, yes, uncomfortably so to find out some stuff about each other that you didn’t know about and no matter how long you’ve been together. Keeping secrets? Forget that. Not being honest about stuff? Forget that, too. Saying, “We can do this… but I don’t ever wanna hear about it?” Big mistake.

And if the two of you aren’t doing this for the “us” that you are and supposed to be, well, damn…


Posted by on 12 August 2020 in Life, Living and Loving


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Life, Living and Loving: Mrs. Feve’s Memoir Project – Open

It’s the finale of Mrs. Feve’s memoir project and I like her sense of humor to use “open” to close the project. It’s actually been a couple of days between my seeing the email announcing this prompt and my writing my thoughts on it because I had to think about “open” and in many contexts while trying to link the word to a memoir-like moment in my life…

Which, for me, was realizing two things: I was not only bisexual but very bisexual… and I loved it. We talk about being open-minded or being open with others and those things are comparatively easy when matched up with being open with yourself… about yourself even when there just might be something about you that those around you, well, let’s just say that they’re not gonna pat you on the back – or ass – and tell you how amazing you are.

Before the moment I had to be open with myself, there were the moments I had my eyes opened to know, realize and maybe even confirm that sex was not only “da shit” but it was even more so when you could have it with both boys and girls and putting the question in my head of, “How can something that feels so good be so bad?” That in reference to males having sex with each other; the boy/girl thing was just an instant hit and understanding and the only question was, “When can I do this again?”

I didn’t know it had a name and until I discovered that it did, uh, I really didn’t care if it did or not; what I knew – what I was learning – was this sex with “everybody” thing was even better than the “Jimmy Jet” toy I got when I sent in the required number of boxtops (batteries not included). Knew it was wrong, wasn’t supposed to be even thinking about it and, like many of those around me, didn’t give a damn about it.

I had my eyes opened, ah, somewhat later down the road when doing a book report for school, I had to go to the public library for the book I was gonna report on. Somewhere along the line, I ran across a word I didn’t know the meaning of so, as we’d been taught, I went to the gigantic dictionary that sat at the front of the library and started flipping through pages… and in doing so, came across the word “bisexual.”

After reading the definition like three or four times, I blurted out, “So that’s what I’ve been doing!” My exclamation was loud enough to get heads turned in my direction and earned me a scalding look from the librarian at the desk. Upon the discovery of this word, my whole view of things just opened up before me and setting what would be a life-long task to know everything there was to know about bisexuality, not just in myself but in other as well.

Even to this end, it was eye-opening to be on this path and thinking that I was the only one who knew about sex like this… then having a “duh” moment to realize that I wasn’t and the evidence of that had, um, conveniently been overlooked but I understood it: I was too busy having way too much fun to have noticed what should have been obvious.

“I am bisexual.” After discovering the word, it took me a bit of time to be open with myself and say those three words, not because I was in denial about it but I now understood my sexual behavior. I was very much okay with it but my eyes and mind were now even more opened about the elephant in the room and one that not only people were seeing but were trying to “kill…” and literally so in some cases.

Homosexuals. Homos. Faggots. Queers. Sissies. Even bull dykes. Sitting down and reading the bible and learning of the religious prohibitions and the gruesome punishments being promised while now being open to really notice how so many people just hated anyone who wasn’t straight… and I was one of those people who wasn’t straight.

My eyes and mind were sitting wide open, not just about sex but about people. Us. Humans. How just downright nasty and even violent we can be toward each other and more so when you were different… from the color of your skin as well as a great many things that also included how you had sex and who you would have it with.

While I’d learn that a lot of people like me could have a hard time being open with themselves about being bisexual, the hardest thing for me to accept was the outright hatred towards anyone who wasn’t heterosexual and how many would be accused of and persecuted for being a homosexual when they really weren’t.

My mind was pried open to reveal how… totally ignorant – and dare I say scared shitless – we can be about something that, as I’d eventually learn, was just another aspect of human behavior. Being open with myself about this was, for me, pretty easy and, I think, more so when I was into it up to my pretty brown eyes before I knew the word existed.

Better late than never, huh? I went from feeling like I was the only one who was like this to, duh, realizing that I wasn’t… and then to wondering if I was the only one who understood this part of the sex thing. Eyes opened more to eventually learn that others did understand it… and I wish I could have closed my eyes and mind so that I wouldn’t have to be exposed to the hatred many others spewed toward anyone not heterosexual.

Today, bisexuals are up against it and just like homosexuals were and, as such, they worry about things that I didn’t have to contend with since, at the time of my “birth” as a bisexual, it was more of a joke than anything else, something that was somewhat dismissed out of hand: People seemed to know that there were other people who went both ways, batted for both teams and were switch-hitters… but no one took it seriously and for those who did, well, you were a gay faggot queer who should be put to death.

Bisexuality did more than to open my mind about sex and the evil that men do; it opened my mind and enabled me to see that, as Mr. Spock would famously say in a movie decades later, “There are always possibilities…” I could see the world in a different way, my view not being obstructed by dogma and unfounded opinions and in ways that allowed me to see solutions to things that were, more often as not, as outside of the box as I was sexually.

But, okay, yeah – I understood sex, my eyes opened to the natural beauty of it as well as all of its ugliness and an ugliness brought to the table by those who, it seemed, didn’t or couldn’t understand what sex was really about and how the mandatory boy/girl way wasn’t the only way to experience both physical and emotional comfort via sex. My eyes were even more opened when I realized – while giving a guy a blow job and, typical of me, all late and wrong – why women tend to behave the way the did when you wanted to get into their panties. The guy was, to me, going out of his way to make something I found to be pleasing into anything but. Then there were the guys who do or say anything that’ll get you naked so they could subject you to their lust.

I even had a guy tell me, “If you suck my dick, I promise not to cum in your mouth!” Yeah, right. He came in my mouth anyway but that was okay since, for one, I didn’t believe him in the first place and, for the other, that’s exactly what I wanted him to do. Same with those guys who’d say that they wanted to fuck… but they weren’t gonna stick it in… and then they did but, again, I knew they would… but, yes, indeed, my eyes were very wide open to the bullshit men put women through just so they could bust a nut in them.

And through it all, I saw the importance about always being open about this with myself or, as a late friend of mine used to say, “You can lie to anyone you want to… but there’s only so much lying you can do to yourself.” It had become obvious that this was the greater crime one could commit and one that, by comparison, made the “crime” of taboo sex look insignificant. I may or may not be of a mind to let a whole lot of people know that I’m one of those “freaky” bisexuals; they either don’t need to know or it’s none of their damned business.

But I don’t lie to myself about it and I saw, with open eyes, the value in this decades before bisexuals today find themselves struggling with being open with themselves and worry their asses off over what everyone else is going to think and say about them and just because they not only like opposite sex stuff – they like the same sex stuff, too.

I am bisexual. I’ve been this way for a very long time now… and my eyes are still open as is my mind… and I remain very, very open with myself about it. “Why would you want to suck a guy’s dick?” is a question I’ve been asked more times than I care to remember… and being open about it – and with myself about it – prompts me to respond with, “Because I can… and it feels good to do it. What… do you really believe that women are the only ones who like sucking dick? Really?”

Open your eyes. Open your mind. See the reality where it lives. I did… and I still do… because nothing else makes any damned sense at all.


Posted by on 11 August 2020 in Life, Living and Loving


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Life, Living and Loving: Mrs. Feve’s Memoir Project – Out

Three AM… and I’m looking for Mrs. Feve’s next prompt… and there’s nothing. Did she decide to stop the project or something? I started to ask her then said, “No, wait, wait…”

I’m still wondering if she thinks of these prompts and says to herself, “Oh… I’d love to see the look on KDaddy’s face when he see this one!”

The word covers a lot of things in my memories, including the way I pronounce it with a more… French pronunciation but not as out there as Canadians pronounce it and, yes, I blame high school French for getting me to pronounce “ou” like “ooh” and not “ow.” The funny part is it gets people asking me where I’m from and I sometimes get the stink eye because they don’t believe I was born and raised right here in the United States.

Of course, there’s the ongoing drama about bisexuals coming out but, okay, I’ve been out for decades now and so long that I no longer remember the exact moment I said to myself, “I don’t give a fuck who doesn’t like the fact that I go both ways!” Keeping my mind in the gutter for a moment, when thinking about what I was going to write this time, the Certified Dirty Old Man in my head said, “Well, you know, when you put it in, you gotta pull it out, too…”

No kidding? Wow… didn’t know that…

“Out” is such a common word that, at least for me, it doesn’t spark any one particular moment when this three-letter word had a memorable impact outside of the fact that my sexuality got me out of the box that most people are locked into.

Out of time. Out of luck. Being assed-out. Left out. Going out. On the outs. In some ways, out signifies a sort of finality or ending; it’s another word for being excluded, like being the odd-man out or it’s a transition – you were inside and then you went out… but you, at least temporarily, quit being inside.

The Certified Dirty Old Man reminds me that being out in a sexuality context meets that last part I wrote… and like I wasn’t sitting here when I typed it.

Being out in left field – what an odd phrase that is and one that has a connection to baseball. Three outs in an inning, three strikes and you’re out and, yeah, the odd twist of being out can put you into quite a mess. Being out of your mind, just another way to denote craziness and/or insanity and taking the word one step further to thinking out of the box.

There’s being out there and being out of bounds which, depending on the person, can be both a good and bad thing and, of course, there are quite a few sports where going out of bounds is definitely not a good thing, well, unless you’re a wide receiver and you voluntarily step out of bounds to avoid that 200-pound freight train that’s looking to put some hurt on you.

There’s those out of body experiences where one feels detached from their physical self; being on the outside looking in comes to mind as well. Even as I write this, that little three-letter word is bouncing around in my mind and trying to stick to something but I think it’s such a common and well-used word in our vocabulary that there are probably a gazillion things where the word “out” was involved.

Being in love… then falling out of love; an object in motion remains in motion until acted upon by an outside force. Running out of gas, both literally and being very, very tired after exerting one’s self. Then, of course, there’s being outside, outdoors, in the great outdoors.

The Certified Dirty Old Man, who owns the gutter, is whispering to me about some more… intimate outs and I’m trying not to pay attention to him but, okay, we’ll go there for a moment so I can finish with this.

When I was nine – and just before my 10th birthday – I’d got hit by a car and knocked silly and from my perspective, the car came out of nowhere and, despite my parents saying otherwise, I did look both ways before dashing across the street. I was on the move – then heard someone say, “Look out!” – and the next thing I knew I way lying against a telephone pole with a lot of people standing over me. The people who hit me took me to the closest hospital and my father arrived and me and him had it out about whether or not I really did look both ways; then, later, the doctor who stitched my head and chin – and the only injuries I suffered – telling me when to come see him again to get the stitches out.

A few days later (and quite a few Mr. Softee root bear floats), I was with my “girlfriend,” Shirley, who had come to see me and, um, ah, ahem, she wanted me to do it to her and I was more than happy to since I was officially grounded so I could heal up and not allowed to go out.

I was so in love with Shirley and once our bodies were joined, oh, yeah – loved her even more. Now, this wasn’t the first time we did it so it wasn’t like this was unfamiliar to us. Dick going in and out of her, we’re kissing – and with lots of tongue – and the world couldn’t get any better. I felt that… good but funny feeling wash over me but I barely paid any attention to it; I’d felt it numerous times before and knew it would pass in a moment, I’d take a nice deep breath, and keep going… but this time, it was different.

Very different.

My heart started beating really fast and my whole body started to shake and tremble; I was having a really hard time breathing, and Shirley’s lovely face was blurred and out of focus… and the feeling wasn’t getting better – it was getting worse. Much worse. I was losing control of my body and like it couldn’t make up its mind whether to keep moving in and out of Shirley or to just stop moving; all the while, my brain is trying to figure out what the is going on: Am I dying? Is this my punishment for being disobedient and having sex when I wasn’t supposed to or, really, um, the punishment was finally catching up with me for all the sex I’d been having with both boys and girls?

It was like something exploded inside my head and I panicked because now I couldn’t see and I knew – or thought I knew – that my eyes were open. Heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears and I had no idea what my body was doing other than shaking and shivering like I was really cold and had stuck my finger in a socket. I was dying… and I was sure of it.

Then everything started feeling better, well, kinda better. I don’t remember pulling out of Shirley but I did, sitting next to her and breathing like I’d been outside running like the wind; I was so… confused that I didn’t know she was talking to me until she shook me to get my attention.

“Huh?” I said – why was my mouth so dry?

“You did it! You did it!” she exclaimed and I remember her smile so very well.

“What did I do?” I asked, deepening my confusion.

“You shot the baby-making stuff in me!” she said and as happy as if she’d found a twenty dollar bill on the sidewalk. “It came out of you and went into me! Do it again!”

Yep – the first time I busted a nut and that white, gooey, stuff came out of my dick and, um, yep, inside Shirley who made it a point to have me look between her legs to see it starting to ooze out of her and I dimly remember thinking that there was a whole lot of the stuff that came out. It wasn’t that I didn’t know about the dreaded baby-making stuff but I thought it was some shit adults made up to scare us into not messing around with sex but, wow… it was for real and my mind quickly put together that now, when I put my dick into… um someone, that white baby-making stuff was gonna come out.

Hot damn! And we did do it again… and even more of the stuff came out and Shirley and I were over the moon and, yeah, out of our minds about it but, okay, when she said, “One more time!” there wasn’t as much of it that came out in the end but, yeah: I was in the big time now and as I found out a few days later, I was the first among us to have the baby-making stuff come out.

Eventually, I’d learn what happened. I even remember, many years later, talking to a doctor about when I became sexually active and he had asked if I remember the first time I ejaculated; when I told him I did remember it (vividly) and that I was nine when it happened, he looked puzzled and mumbled something about that shouldn’t have happened at that age. But I had told him that I’d been hit by a car a couple of days before that moment and all he said was, “Okay… that kind of explains a few things…”

Like getting hit by a car and getting my noggin rattled shook something loose before it was supposed to? If there was a huge, gigantic “out” for me, well, that was it and while I’ve forgotten a lot of things over the years, that moment is one I can’t forget but, like they say, you always remember your first time.

The Certified Dirty Old Man is happy that I got this out and I think he’s looking around for a cigarette… but I’m back to ignoring him and thinking about that out moment compared to the moment that got me out of the straight box and into the bisexual one.

Out. The opposite of in. Many connotations. So common in its usage that one rarely ever thinks about it even when they get to the moment when they run out of words…

And just as I have just done. Back to you, Mrs. Feve!


Posted by on 30 July 2020 in Life, Living and Loving


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Life, Living and Loving: Mrs. Feve’s Memoir Project – Animal

The word conjures up a lot of thoughts and particularly about Zane, our cat that passed away suddenly a month or so ago; I still find myself looking for her.

My next thought – and other than Mrs. Feve shouldn’t be awake at 3am – was that we are all animals but we think we’re above the other animals that makes up life on this planet. I thought about political animals and how many of them seem to be suffering from a bad case of rabies these days.

But what I really thought about are the memories of what animals have taught me about why humans just tend to make a big deal out of that which other animals do naturally and as a matter of survival.

My mind flashed back decades to a moment when a bunch of friends and I were outside and, knowing us, doing our level best to find some trouble to get into when these two dogs came trotting along, stopped right in front of us and, well, the one dog started fucking the other dog. Everyone just lost it in some way; they were either laughing about it or feeling very disgusted by what they were looking at and all the while, the dogs were going about it and if we weren’t standing there gawking.

We make such a big deal about sex and have gone out of our way to demonize something that is, in fact, natural but what makes us different than those two dogs is that we can do it just for the fun of it and not necessarily for procreation and I’d eventually learn that we’re not the only animal species on the planet who has sex just because we can. Others in the animal kingdom who are, ah, sexual rebels, don’t discriminate between male and female and experts have studied the famous bonobo monkeys who pretty much flaunt their bisexuality in the face of the rest of the animal kingdom… including us.

Yet we go to great lengths to distance ourselves and to not see ourselves as the animal we really are. I think about Zane and how she bonded to me and, well, I guess to her, I was just a funny looking cat and perhaps it didn’t make a difference that we were two different animals. We’d get pissed with each other, play with each other and she’d spend a lot of time just lying on my feet, purring happily and without a care in the world… because that’s the way it’s supposed to be and a continuing reminder that we’re not as all that as we like to think we are.

In that memoir kind of way, we are magnificent animals and my life is full of moments where that magnificence has shined… and where that magnificence has been dulled and sullied because, unlike other animals, we’ve not yet learned how to get along with each other and to not let our differences divide us and make us contentious. Take a pride of lions, for example: If you’re part of the pride, it’s all good and outsiders, well, not all that welcomed. They have their own power struggles and orders of dominance and when you think about lions, the first image that pops into your head is the one with the huge mane, the king of the jungle and all that… but the real power in the pride lies with the lioness and you only see the competitive fierceness in male lions when it’s mating time. We laugh – or maybe even cringe – about a male lion going from female to female and hitting it, you know, provided she doesn’t turn around and bitch-slap the fuck out of him a few time and just as we tend to cringe to see two males fighting over a female.

And humans, as it turns out, aren’t all that different except, given our advantage of having a more and highly developed brain, we can somehow justify acting like the animals we try to insist that we don’t really behave like. It’s not one endearing memory or memoir kind of thing with this particular prompt…

It’s a reminder of that which we don’t think about so much; we are all animals and no matter how much or how hard we try to distance ourselves from the other species on the planet, eh, we’re really not all that different or even civilized as we like to think we are.

It’s the one thing that has stayed with me ever since that day we watched those two dogs fucking and without any concern, fears, or even shame because they were doing what they were supposed to do. Another day, yeah, wow – we saw two male dogs trying to hump each other and while the others were pretty much losing their minds over the two “faggot” dogs, for me, those two dogs taught me something about being human and to not be ashamed or even afraid to do that which, in fact and in deed, comes naturally to a lot of animals.

And the persistent, constant memory and realization that we think we’re better than all the other animals on the planet… and we aren’t. Not so much a memoir but a lesson in life itself and one we all should learn, that we can be human without all the dumb shit we bring to the table. Zane could be totally pissed with me one moment… and happily at my feet and purring the next moment. There wasn’t a day that went by that she wouldn’t piss me off one moment and in the next one, I was petting her and, yeah, even talking to her. We were two different animals but we found a way to not only get along but to co-exist together.

If only the rest of us could learn to do this so that if the day comes when we really do sit down and write our memoirs, what we’ve learned from other animals will play a part in our lives.


Posted by on 20 July 2020 in Life, Living and Loving


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Life, Living and Loving: Mrs. Feve’s Memoir Project – Shoes

I saw the notification of Mrs. Feve’s latest post pop up on my iPad and I had two thoughts: The first was, “Shoes?” and the next was that whatever Mrs. Feve is smoking when she thinks of these topics, she needs to share and the sooner, the better.

Not a whole lot about shoes comes to mind; the actual footwear isn’t something I lose my mind over and when I’ve needed a new pair of shoes, fashion doesn’t matter – if it fits and looks good on my feet and will last a while, I’m good with that. I can’t even remember the last time I bought shoes but I can tell you that I still have them.

What did come to mind was the old saw about not judging someone until you’ve walked a mile in their shoes and, as a bisexual, I’ve run into so many people in my travels who, instead of ranting and raving about something they really don’t understand, should put my “shoes” on and take a nice, long walk so that they can really understand what’s good – and “bad” – about being bisexual.

One of the things you learn is what it’s like, in part or in whole, to walk in the shoes of women and gay men; some of it is and can be a pleasant walk while some of it is anything but pleasant and, depending on how you care to look at things. well, let’s just say that it doesn’t make men look good at all and understanding what it’s like to be, um, intimately exposed to men just makes our reputation as men a lot worse or, really, you get to seriously understand why some women are the way they are about sex and intimacy.

I’ve even suggested to some to put on my shoes and go for a walk and the suggestion has been rejected… but they continue to judge, bash, or otherwise denigrate something that, again, they really don’t understand. As I’m prone to saying, I grew up with this and in a very different time when homosexuals were the target of societal angst and prejudice and bisexuals – aka switch-hitters – were a joke, maybe even a myth of sorts and a way to yank someone’s chain… well, until recently anyway. The shoes these more… modern bisexuals are walking in is a poor fit for them, probably giving them blisters and callouses as they try to walk this path and their shoes fit badly because they don’t seem to understand the one thing that, growing up when I did and given my ability to see through the dumb shit:

It’s just being human. Born to be this way if we choose to or, yeah, even if it’s a “last ditch” option and even if one is given litter or no choice but to be this way because we are biologically compelled to be social – and intimate – with each other. People struggle wearing their shoes and maybe because they’re of a mind that one size fits all and that’s never been the case and all it takes to understand this is to think about any time you’ve bought that sweet pair of shoes… and they don’t quite fit right… and you try to walk in them anyway.

One must become a cobbler and, with shoes in hand, make them fit the way they need to fit and fit so well and comfortably that even when you’re wearing them, it feels as if you’re not wearing them. Again, growing up with this when I did, it was an important lesson to learn, a personal skill to master and, most of all, be comfortable walking this path. I’ve said time and time again that the sex is easy… but in this context, making your shoes fit well and comfortably isn’t all that easy:

If you can’t be comfortable wearing these shoes, that’s a problem. Even shoes that fit have to be broken in and if you don’t wear them and take many steps in them, your feet are gonna have problems. So many have these shoes… and keep them in the box, still with the tag on them and as much as they want to put them on, they don’t… but when they try to get their feet into them the fit and comfort just isn’t there.

And back in the box they go.

My shoes are very broken in; they’re well-worn and, sure, like any pair of shoes, sometimes you need to re-sole them, put new heels on them so that when I do walk in them, I walk… better. More comfortable. Even that much more confident that my shoes will continue to be equal to the task and more so when, these days, bisexuality has become more of a minefield than a… rugged and difficult path to walk.

It’s not about style or trends or even “fashion statements.” These shoes have to be custom made to fit your feet and, yep, sometimes, you gotta try on several pairs to find the ones that will not only fit well and comfortably but will be durable and long-lasting. One size does not fit all and common sense says that if you wear a size nine shoe, trying to shove your tootsies in a size eight shoe is going to give you nothing but grief and make your ability to walk in them much more difficult and problematic.

“If the shoe fits, wear it…” and I’ll add that if you do wear it, do so with both pride and confidence and no matter how many people aren’t gonna like the shoes you’re wearing. I’ve worn women’s shoes and I’ve learned – and sometimes the hard way – why their feet hurt so much and when men are involved. I’ve worn the shoes of a gay man and I understand why some like guys who wear bisexual shoes… and why some just hate the fact that we have the nerve to put on shoes that are so similar – but not so much – to the shoes they wear.

To be bisexual, you just need to find the right shoes that fit the way you need and want them to fit… then walk in them. Break them in even though you just might wind up scuffing the toe tripping over things along your path. Sometimes the soles will wear out; the heel will get worn down and sometimes, you just gotta get a new pair of the exact same shoes and once again begin the process of breaking them in so that they fit perfectly and comfortable.

And that’s the real problem when walking in the shoes of someone else: They’re someone else’s shoe and they might not fit if at all… but become a cobbler and design your own unique and customized fit.

Then walk. Don’t put too much weight on what others say about your shoes; find out how to make your shoes fit the way you want and need them to and then don’t ever be afraid to wear them.

Shoes. Even the metaphysical ones. If they fit, wear them because even real shoes have no real purpose unless you wear them.


Posted by on 10 July 2020 in Life, Living and Loving



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