There's definitely love out there.  

doodoooccidental 42M
0 posts
3/11/2006 6:08 pm
There's definitely love out there.

There's definitely love out there.

Anyway, I tend to characterize this blog as a sex blog. In fact, when I first started this blog, I called them sex blogs in order to distinguish them from my msn spaces blog which I tried to keep free of sexual content.

To the extent, that it is a sex blog, I do try to be extreme. I am of the opinion that to be extreme in expressing one's thoughts and opinions is liberating.

It's been 3 days since I last updated this blog (and the copies of this blog). Hmm, I was doing some reflecting. I think I have covered some of this ground already. 1) That adolescents have high sex hormones driving them to engage in sex and that as a 31 nearly 32 year old man, my sex hormone levels aren't what they used to be. That means that I have to use some "aids" or artificial methods to boost my sex drive. Keep this blog to focus my mind on certain things is one example of an "aid". 2). I have written a lot of sexual fantasies (my own) but I am not losing sight of the fact that I need to look at the vitally importance of the practical side of sex, the actual mechanics of sex, including masturbation, playing with oneself and each other, rubbing, petting and so on.

One thing I reckon which is going to be hard for me, when I finally,hopefully, lose my virgin is having oral sex. To get down on my knees and use my tongue to give a woman oral pleasure. I've never done this. I had a friend when I was a late teenager who gave me advice about using the shower. I watched a film called "Kinsey" in which an alternative would be to use one's hand instead of one's tongue, at least, initially, to get over the momentousness of the act.

One thing I would like a women to do is lie on top of me. For a whole night. Hey, she wouldn't have to do it every night. Maybe, once a month. . My cock inside her warm vagina!! What pleasure!! Our cheeks touching. In each other's arms. That would be great. We melt into each other's arms.

Why should I be afraid of her. I should enjoy her instead, collapse into her wonderful arms.

3) Another point I have mentioned before is my tendency as a teenager not to associate with my peer-group and thus their pent-up hormones. Instead, I associated with the older generation, for example, my father's golfing mates when he went golfing in Portinoo, and their, modulated if not downright repressed sex drives. This left me confused. I tried to do the same thing. Whoosh, my late teens and twenties passed by and I was extremely unhappy and unfulfilled.

4) Before, I didn't associate with my own peer-group, I couldn't mentally focus on the practical mechanics of "pulling a chick". You know, chat-up lines, body language, how to invite a girl to the cinema, what to do with the girl once we got to the cinema. Do I put my arms around her shoulders for example? Instead, I embued myself with a load of macho bullshit about "sexual chivalry", completely repressing my sex drive, to the point of even pretending that it didn't exist. I tried instead, in a perverted way, to impress the girl by pretending I was not sexually interested in her. What nonsense. Naturally, she walked away, time and time again. Why shouldn't she?

I think this is a motivation behind . , I believe, come from the ranks of these "sexual chivalrists". They try the stupid sexual chivalry act, the woman spurns them (with good reason to) and the "sexual chivalrist" acts in outrage, lashing out in violence, leading quickly to .

This blog is about tapping into my hidden and repressed sexuality. I'm trying to convince myself once again that I can be happy, that I deserve to be happy, that there is even such a thing as happiness.

I've seen the film, "The Piano" directed by Jane Campion. In this film, Sam Neill, an outstanding actor, captures the mentality of the "sexual chivalrist/ " very very well.. You see a seamless progression from "chivalry" to " " including chopping off the woman's, Ada's, finger. It's a dark colonial world presented by Jane Campion in this film.

A word about my family.

I think my father's side of the family is a lot more robust health-wise than my mother's side. I wrote before about my uncle, my mother's brother, who committed suicide. My father's genes are tougher stuff. It's difficult, if not well-nigh impossible to reconcile the values of my mother with those of my father. My mother believed in duty, to a frightening extent. Watch the film "Remains of the Day" to give you an idea of just how frightening "duty" can become. In this film, Anthony Hopkin's father reminds his son that he has waited at table "every day for the past 50 years". Hmm, I wonder if that is true. But, if it were true, it would truly be frightening!!. Good grief, I don't want a life like that. Also, in this film, Anthony Hopkins plays a butler who subsumes his own political and personal beliefs to those of his Lord whom he serves. That too is truly frightening. Even, when it becomes clear that his Lord was wrong in some of his decisions. THe Butler, played by Anthony Hopkins remains loyal to him. Hmm, that's not life.

My father was more of a romantic than my mother. He enjoyed life more. I think this is what attracted my mother to him. And, vice versa, my mother's sense of duty attracted my father to her. The two parts can thus make a whole. It sounds romantic. But, my problem is that their value systems are so far apart that one would have to be nothing less than a hero to reconcile one with the other. As a younger man, my father worked on great ships, oil tankers and the like as a radio officer. Okay, he lost all his hair on top of his hair but he was one of these guys, according to my information, who had a girl waiting for him at every port. He has "joie de vivre". I liked this about my dad. Though, as an unwise and stupid teenager and twenty something, I disliked this about him. I've changed my mind completely on this matter.

We are all sexual creatures. My dad as no exception. He embraced his sexuality. He was aware of it and he went with the flow. I remember not 2 years before he died in 1991, him taking me to see one of his old flames in Ballyshannon. He was unashamed about it. And he shouldn't have been too..

My mother I'm afraid to see had a bad bad temper. Snapping at my dad, for example, about not having a job in the 1980s, (there was high high unemployment in the Republic of Ireland), which was totally unjustified. Temper, temper, mother.

But, yes, I acknowledge, as I said before, my father hit out as well, at me, at my mother and so on. But, they stayed together until my dad died of lymptic cancer in 1991.. I remember the two of them, my mother and father, walking hand-in-hand at Fintra at the beach there, a long long walk together. That was great. I was practicing my golf swing at the time.

I've already talked about the corrupt politicians in the 1980s in Ireland. Chief among them, Charlie Haughey. Corrupt and incompetent. The shambles of the Irish economy (and consequently of my dad's unemployment) was their doing, all of them.

Anyway, back to sex, I'm ashamed of my penis, I guess. I think it's small. I'm afraid to show it to anyone. And, at this moment, I am a little overweight too. Jees, I have a mountain to climb.

Oh, and that leads me to another thing, God. Oh, my mother, (as I said, who comes from a sometimes dodgy side of the family, used to tell me stories when I was about 7 or 8 or 9 or so about being "burned alive by God", "having my tongue ripped out in hell" and so on. Completely unnecessary and barbarian and uncivilized. I was very very young and I can't remember the details but right now I am shaking my head. It scared the living shit out of me and, well,this sex blog, or instead, any discussion on my sex life, is, to some extent, an exercise of shaking this fear off.

Yup, there's this straight-jacket of fear which still pulls me back. It's all in the head or is it? I proceed with caution. [sigh]

That's enough for now.

Paul Carr


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