It's been a big week here at the blog. We climbed to over 800 public followers, and then kept going. We hit a million unique visitors. And then, to cap off the excitement, I went and had my head shaved.
I'd been threatening to do it for some time. My hair was long. I'd worn it long-ish for about a decade, but this year and last, it got long. Friends and family would comment on how long my mane was and when I'd retort that I was considering cutting it all off, they'd laugh politely as if they knew I'd never do such a thing.
One problem with long hair, though, is that it starts to get in the way. It hangs down in your face, when you're banging someone. It'll look great one moment, and then a brisk breeze from the wrong direction will mess up everything. It tangles when you brush it. Your bathroom walls become plastered with long curlicues of hair that drifted there on the billows of shower steam. You have to plan your days around letting the stuff dry.
So Friday I woke up and realized I was going to cut it all off. I dressed, pulled the stuff back into a ponytail, hopped in the car, and drove to the barber, where I sat down in the chair and told him to grab his electric shears and crop it all off.
"It's going to be really short if I do that," he said, staring at me in the mirror.
"Ye-es," I replied, since that was the idea.
"I mean, really short," he said.
This was one of the Latin barber shops in the area, and it was fairly crowded for a Friday morning. I couldn't tell, though, whether I hadn't made myself clear enough, or whether he was trying to make certain I knew what I was doing. "Yeah," I said. "Go for it."
"All right," he said, shaking his head at the crazy white guy.
So the first time around he used the shears on the side of my head, and trimmed off maybe an inch. Then he paused expectantly. I shook my head. "You see my beard?" I said, which I'd just trimmed down before I'd come. "That short."
"That short?" he asked.
"That short," I told him. So he cut it that short—perhaps a quarter of an inch. Then he did the other side.I still had a long lank of hair down the middle, like I was lead singer of A Flock of Seagulls or something, but finally I convinced him to cut that down, too.
When he was done, I beamed in the mirror. It looked awesome, and I told him so. It wasn't until I got home and was examining it in the mirror that I realized I should've asked him to take it even shorter on top.
I know some of you out there are mourning the loss of my Byronic locks, but hair grows, and switching things up keeps one on one's toes. And nothing's more welcome in the spring than a little change, right?
Let's get to a few questions from formspring.me. (And in honor of the milestones we crossed this week, how about you head over to the site and ask me an anonymous question I haven't been asked before? It'll be fun!)
What is your age and what is the oldest person in which you've had sex ?
I am forty-eight. The oldest person with whom I've had sex was in his mid-seventies when I was in my early thirties. He was a professor emeritus at a well-respected university, and he was a damned fine lover, too. Highly energetic and very attentive.
Have you ever lifted someone up upside down and stood up to perform a standing 69?
No. It sounds like way too much work.
I have lifted someone up and shoved them against a wall while they wrapped their legs around me, in order to fuck them, but they were considerably smaller and lighter.
What is that meal that you loved as kid, but do not care for as an Adult?
Spaghettios with franks. Why I loved this gummy, tin-canny mess with the weird-tasting hot dogs is beyond me. It tastes like upchuck.
I used to love mayonnaise sandwiches for lunch, when I was a kid. The thought now makes me shudder.
And some of the things I used to get away with as a kid, like eating an entire pint of ice cream instead of having a good dinner, just make me shake my head and wonder what I was thinking.
Other than your home town or city, where is your favorite geographical location to meet others for "no strings hookups" or sex?
Chicago, Toronto, and Atlanta. The men are plentiful and piggier.
Have you ever made a sexual phone call to someone you had a crush on and hidden your number or disguised your voice?
That kind of behavior seems to cross the line from crush-y to stalker-y, to me.
I'm more likely to have a crush on someone and never speak of it or give any indication, only to find out five or six years later that he had a crush on me at the same time. That seems pretty typical.
I'm fascinated that your brother "pimps" you. Have you ever shared guys at the same time? Have the two of you ever played with each other?
I think most of your questions would be answered if you clicked on the 'mikey' tag either in my sidebar list of tags, or at the bottom of that particular post. You'll see a variety of posts I've made about him.
Did you participate in sports teams when you were in school? What sport(s)? What memory or experience surrounding your participation is still important (or most vivid) to you?
I played lacrosse and tennis in school, and disliked both. For the former, I lack the team mentality that's so popular in both sports and corporate America. I'm sure my former employers could attest to it, too.
I was fairly good at tennis, but because I only did it because my father had played on his high school and college teams, and pushed me into taking up the racket. Because I was a snotty teen who didn't want to please him, I never enjoyed playing it, and resented getting up at five in the mornings, summers, for him to coach me at it.
The one sport that meant the most to me in school and after was swimming. Not with a team—but I enjoyed teaching swimming to boys at the YMCA, and lifeguarding. The experience taught me a great deal about interacting with others, helping people face their worst fears, and about responsibility.