Impressive entry, Fatality. You can write very well.
I'm no match for you, but I'll pour my heart out and see what comes forth.
****
I am a very observant person. I notice so many things in life that go by unnoticed by almost everyone else. This trait of mine has cursed me, and blessed me.
I grew up under the parenting of a gentle-natured man who left the Mormon Church of Utah to move to San Francisco with his two long-haired, hippie friends, and a woman of an aggressive, assertive environment. They were not religious, and provided a completely secular atmosphere for my sister and me throughout our childhood. For that I am most thankful.
I can remember often being the living room while my parents watched their R rated films. It wasn't a big deal if my sister and I were exposed to a sex scene or two. I picked up on a few things because of this. I remember thinking that sex was always satisfying for the man, and disappointing for the woman. It wouldn't last long enough; he wasn't attentive enough to her desires. The expressions on the women's faces, and sometimes the fights between them and their lacking male partners left me with a strong desire to never generate those types of emotions and situations in my life.
My first time at sex was in the fall of 1997. I was a senior and 18 years old. She was a junior, I think, and about a year younger. It was very, very nerve-racking. I was so fucking nervous. It didn't last long at all, as you'd expect. But she was wonderful: she didn't belittle me, or give me shit for it. She was very kind and affectionate in spite of my Tanya Harding level of performance. Because of this first time of me not enduring, we never tried it again. We sustained ourselves on mutual masturbation, and eventually oral. A couple did try it no more than three times, but I couldn't last.
We broke apart about 8 months later. I shortly thereafter met and became sexual with another girl.
Oh, by the way, these two girls were... heavy girls. Voluptuous, a few extra pounds... however you see fit to describe them. I would just say that they were fat, but that carries so much of a negative connotation that I refuse to use that word except when I'm trying to be mean. And these girls were wonderful to me, so I'll never disrespect them.
This second partner of mine changed everything for me. She was a virgin, and together we reached a very mature level of sexual awareness. For some reason, I could last for hours with her: literally four of more hours. We would go at it for so long that I began to wonder if there was such a thing as "too long." After a while, we worked out a little thing that we'd do when we were ready to call it quits. She would lie on her side, and I would enter from behind, and inexplicably to me I would cum soon after getting into position.
It was a wonderful system. We too broke apart after a while. I went a looooonnnnnnggggg time before having another partner. Like years.
There is an aspect of my sexual experience that I can't share in this venue. It's better saved for private conversations. So I'll speak of its principle in lieu of its description.
Both these girls, and three others in my life, fell in love with me. I feel that if I had asked them to marry me while we were together that there would have been an instant "yes" in return. Four of them were of the voluptuous type, and the other was 39 years old with a touch of ADD; we just wouldn't have survived. She was a wonderful woman and person, but not the kind of person who I would want to be around as much as the woman I want for a wife.
I'm just about to my point. I rambled because, if Fatality can invoke Steinbeck-like descriptive sentences, then I can scribe like Tom Sawyer spoke.
I think of these women often. One in particular (from New Hampshire). I wonder if I made the right choice in braking up with them. I complain to myself (pray, as some call it) about why I can't find someone to love and who loves me while thinking if I threw away a half dozen opportunities and that I won't get any more.
These women would have loved me forever, faithfully and honestly. That's a treasure for which I am incapable of expressing how grateful I would be to have that in my mate. I want that so badly that it electrocutes my thoughts every time I see a beautiful woman (like any of the SG models), or whenever I see an old couple holding hands, or some guy I work with getting dropped off in the morning by his wife. I like romance.
I just have to keep telling myself that I just have to wait. That I will meet the right woman, that I haven't exhausted my chances. I believe that who we are today is because of the experiences we've had. So regret is useless, for if I don't want something of my past to be true, then I'm expressing that I don't approve of who I am today. And, you can't the past.
My experiences have made me harbor a concentrated desire, yearning mind you, to make people happy. Most importantly: my mate. I never want to be apart of the "Men" group in society. The pigs, dogs, chauvinists, assholes, liars, cheaters, players. I am different from all of them, and there's no way for a woman to know that by looking at me walking through the mall, buying movie tickets, or shooting pool. I'm not an underwear model with a surfer's body, so I'll never attract a woman to the point where she'd approach me.
Minor rant here: what the hell is womens problem with approaching a guy? Is it actually better that we adhere to that societal norm from the '50s that women didn't ask men out, didn't call them, didn't initiate anything? Wasn't there a sexual revolution some time ago? Wasn't there a feminist's movement around the same time? I guess it's because of the double standard we use: men can be as slutty as a two-peckered hound and receive the praise of everyone on the ranch, but women can't know the sexual habits of more than a couple of guys without having to wear the scarlet S on their low-cut, spandex, clubbin' pants.
People like to label personal appearance as superficially unimportant. Well, it is literally superficial, but hardly insignificant. Some people are just not very sexual by nature. For those, appearance has no affect on how they feel towards someone. But most of us are not like that -- I'm not. I need to be attracted to a woman if we're ever going to have a hope of committing to each other seriously.
I see a woman like any of the SG models I have saved as "Favorite Suicide Girls" and I feel strongly compelled to convey to them how magically good they make me feel. But their beauty is so overwhelming to me that I can't come up with anything. I have no idea to feel as though they would understand how impressive their pulchritude is in my eyes.
I've lost my direction on this one. Sorry. I'll just have to end it now. I'll say that I appreciate any comments you have. I'm online often (due to no soul mate in my life) so I'll get a response to you promptly.
Thanks for your time.
I'm no match for you, but I'll pour my heart out and see what comes forth.
****
I am a very observant person. I notice so many things in life that go by unnoticed by almost everyone else. This trait of mine has cursed me, and blessed me.
I grew up under the parenting of a gentle-natured man who left the Mormon Church of Utah to move to San Francisco with his two long-haired, hippie friends, and a woman of an aggressive, assertive environment. They were not religious, and provided a completely secular atmosphere for my sister and me throughout our childhood. For that I am most thankful.
I can remember often being the living room while my parents watched their R rated films. It wasn't a big deal if my sister and I were exposed to a sex scene or two. I picked up on a few things because of this. I remember thinking that sex was always satisfying for the man, and disappointing for the woman. It wouldn't last long enough; he wasn't attentive enough to her desires. The expressions on the women's faces, and sometimes the fights between them and their lacking male partners left me with a strong desire to never generate those types of emotions and situations in my life.
My first time at sex was in the fall of 1997. I was a senior and 18 years old. She was a junior, I think, and about a year younger. It was very, very nerve-racking. I was so fucking nervous. It didn't last long at all, as you'd expect. But she was wonderful: she didn't belittle me, or give me shit for it. She was very kind and affectionate in spite of my Tanya Harding level of performance. Because of this first time of me not enduring, we never tried it again. We sustained ourselves on mutual masturbation, and eventually oral. A couple did try it no more than three times, but I couldn't last.
We broke apart about 8 months later. I shortly thereafter met and became sexual with another girl.
Oh, by the way, these two girls were... heavy girls. Voluptuous, a few extra pounds... however you see fit to describe them. I would just say that they were fat, but that carries so much of a negative connotation that I refuse to use that word except when I'm trying to be mean. And these girls were wonderful to me, so I'll never disrespect them.
This second partner of mine changed everything for me. She was a virgin, and together we reached a very mature level of sexual awareness. For some reason, I could last for hours with her: literally four of more hours. We would go at it for so long that I began to wonder if there was such a thing as "too long." After a while, we worked out a little thing that we'd do when we were ready to call it quits. She would lie on her side, and I would enter from behind, and inexplicably to me I would cum soon after getting into position.
It was a wonderful system. We too broke apart after a while. I went a looooonnnnnnggggg time before having another partner. Like years.
There is an aspect of my sexual experience that I can't share in this venue. It's better saved for private conversations. So I'll speak of its principle in lieu of its description.
Both these girls, and three others in my life, fell in love with me. I feel that if I had asked them to marry me while we were together that there would have been an instant "yes" in return. Four of them were of the voluptuous type, and the other was 39 years old with a touch of ADD; we just wouldn't have survived. She was a wonderful woman and person, but not the kind of person who I would want to be around as much as the woman I want for a wife.
I'm just about to my point. I rambled because, if Fatality can invoke Steinbeck-like descriptive sentences, then I can scribe like Tom Sawyer spoke.
I think of these women often. One in particular (from New Hampshire). I wonder if I made the right choice in braking up with them. I complain to myself (pray, as some call it) about why I can't find someone to love and who loves me while thinking if I threw away a half dozen opportunities and that I won't get any more.
These women would have loved me forever, faithfully and honestly. That's a treasure for which I am incapable of expressing how grateful I would be to have that in my mate. I want that so badly that it electrocutes my thoughts every time I see a beautiful woman (like any of the SG models), or whenever I see an old couple holding hands, or some guy I work with getting dropped off in the morning by his wife. I like romance.
I just have to keep telling myself that I just have to wait. That I will meet the right woman, that I haven't exhausted my chances. I believe that who we are today is because of the experiences we've had. So regret is useless, for if I don't want something of my past to be true, then I'm expressing that I don't approve of who I am today. And, you can't the past.
My experiences have made me harbor a concentrated desire, yearning mind you, to make people happy. Most importantly: my mate. I never want to be apart of the "Men" group in society. The pigs, dogs, chauvinists, assholes, liars, cheaters, players. I am different from all of them, and there's no way for a woman to know that by looking at me walking through the mall, buying movie tickets, or shooting pool. I'm not an underwear model with a surfer's body, so I'll never attract a woman to the point where she'd approach me.
Minor rant here: what the hell is womens problem with approaching a guy? Is it actually better that we adhere to that societal norm from the '50s that women didn't ask men out, didn't call them, didn't initiate anything? Wasn't there a sexual revolution some time ago? Wasn't there a feminist's movement around the same time? I guess it's because of the double standard we use: men can be as slutty as a two-peckered hound and receive the praise of everyone on the ranch, but women can't know the sexual habits of more than a couple of guys without having to wear the scarlet S on their low-cut, spandex, clubbin' pants.
People like to label personal appearance as superficially unimportant. Well, it is literally superficial, but hardly insignificant. Some people are just not very sexual by nature. For those, appearance has no affect on how they feel towards someone. But most of us are not like that -- I'm not. I need to be attracted to a woman if we're ever going to have a hope of committing to each other seriously.
I see a woman like any of the SG models I have saved as "Favorite Suicide Girls" and I feel strongly compelled to convey to them how magically good they make me feel. But their beauty is so overwhelming to me that I can't come up with anything. I have no idea to feel as though they would understand how impressive their pulchritude is in my eyes.
I've lost my direction on this one. Sorry. I'll just have to end it now. I'll say that I appreciate any comments you have. I'm online often (due to no soul mate in my life) so I'll get a response to you promptly.
Thanks for your time.