Sunday, May 24, 2015

Sunday Morning Questions: Bluto Edition

Every once in a while I’ll write a blog post that seems to touch a nerve. My recent entry about giving head to a man in his seventies opened up a floodgate of private emails—I’m still getting them, in fact. Most of the notes I received were of a celebratory nature, either from older gentlemen happily involved with younger guys: “I’m older than the man you sucked and I have a thirty-three-year-old boyfriend and I couldn’t have a better sex life!”, or “I’m in my late sixties and involved with a guy who’s twenty, and most of the time I’m the one wearing him out!”

Congrats on that, guys. I think it’s awesome when an intergenerational relationship blossoms so fragrantly.

A minority of my correspondence, though, came from men who seemed to have a good thing, but didn’t understand why—or felt that they were unworthy of it. “I’m seventy-four and seeing a young man in his late twenties,” wrote one. “He gets aroused with me, that’s for sure, and he always leaves me satisfied . . . and then some! But I can’t understand what he sees in me. I’m not anywhere near as attractive as him. I’m only of average size. I know I’m being stupid, but every time we meet I’m not enjoying myself fully because I’m thinking more about why in the world he associates with a guy like me instead of with hot guys his own age.”

Another wrote, “I’m just an average-looking college guy who loves, loves, loves daddies. The older the better. If I see a sexy older man all I can think of is the kinky sexual shit I want to do with him. But if I try to talk to one I freeze up because I know they’re not going to take me seriously. Older guys have their shit together. I don’t even know what classes I’m taking next semester. I don’t want to be attractive just because I’m young. What are they going to see in me? I want to be able to bring something to the table.”

I think all of us have experienced these inadequacies at times. Haven’t we? I’ve always been upfront about my own feelings of unworthiness—the multiple times I’ve felt that guys are out of my league, the times I’ve felt I’m not sexy enough, not wealthy enough, not muscular enough. When I was younger, I felt that I was too young for the older guys I desired. At my current age, I sometimes worry I’m too old for anyone who still has his own teeth.

The thing is, though, that it’s fruitless to try to micromanage other people’s desires. If a man of any age tells you that he finds you attractive, why question it? What’s the profit, there? If he’s seen you in a bar or in a social situation, he’s had plenty of time to size you up and decide that the two of you should spend time together. If you’ve communicated online or on an app, and the photos he’s seen are good representations of you (and genuinely are of you and not your favorite porn star), why waste your time trying to pick apart his professed attraction?

Ultimately doubting someone because he’s into you is an insult to the guy in question. You’re not only doubting his taste, but you’re giving him no credit whatsoever to make his own adult decisions. Let him be the one to decide if you’re the one right for him. Don’t dump him because you’ve decided you’re not right for him. Don’t distance yourself in case you suspect he doesn’t know what he wants. Don’t refuse to meet him because you worry he’s not got a clear perception of who you really are. Let the guy choose. He might surprise you.

I think it’s always important to keep in mind that when we’re meeting a man for sex, we’re not just meeting his penis. We’re meeting all his insecurities, all the vulnerabilities he’s been carrying around, all the doubt he’s had in the last two hours when he’s readied himself in the mirror just to meet you. That’s one of the reasons a little kindness goes a long way—it’s a salve to all the stings and hurts in our lives. If someone’s being kind to you . . . please allow him.

Let’s get to a few reader questions, shall we? (And if you’ve got questions you’d like to ask, feel free to email me.)

Would you rather fuck the Fellowship of the Ring in an orgy, or hit them all one at a time, or (with your penchant for 'ugly-sexy') just pass over the whole lot and make your way through Sauron's army?

That’s quite the question, there. If you’d asked me before those Peter Jackson movies had come out, my answer would’ve been quite different. I would’ve gone with Sauron’s army all the way, because bad boys are always more fun.

After sitting through the movies though? Well, I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit that the only thing that got me through it was having some man-on-hobbit fantasies involving some Sam on my dick. Oh, that’s right. I said it, my precious. Breeder and Samwise Gamgee, gettin’ it on. Girls, you can keep your Orlando Blooms, your Viggos, your Elijahs. I’ve got my eye on something a little tastier, and together we’re going to put the ‘mount’ in Mount Doom.

Please notice that I did manage to avoid a joke about ‘one cock ring to rule them all.’ You’re welcome.

Do you have any real conception of how many people you help with your blog? I’ve been reading you for several years and it’s remarkable how much you’ve changed my own perceptions about sex in general and my own sexual desires in particular, but I don’t get the impression that you understand how you affect people. I would have hung up my hat and retired from sex a long time ago, but you’ve helped me understand that I can have fun the way I want without apologizing for who I am and what I desire.

Thank you. I am honored, and genuinely touched, by your compliment.

I get people writing in a lot to tell me how much reading me has changed their lives. It’s not such an everyday occurrence that I’m blasé about it. In fact, every time someone shows me his appreciation in that way, I hug it to myself for a while because it’s such a blessing. Really.

The thing is, I don’t write to affect lives. It’s not my primary purpose. I write to share my sexual experiences with the world—the encounters I have, the bulletins I have from the leading edge of the sexual frontier, the reflections I have on my past. I’m just one guy sharing a solitary perspective on sex. If occasionally I hit a universal theme that resonates with another person, it’s simply a fortunate byproduct. I’m too modest a person in my everyday life to perceive myself as a life-changing guru.

I’m happy when it happens, though.

I’ve noticed you haven’t been writing as much lately. Is everything okay?

Everything’s good. I’ve been very happy the last several months, honest!

There have been a few times in the last couple of years when I’ve had to contemplate whether or not I wanted to continue writing this blog. Although I’ve gotten a lot of joy out of it in the more than five years I’ve kept it, and although I’ve met a hell of a lot of incredibly great guys because of it, sometimes the hassles seem to overshadow the fun parts.

I’ve had stalkers, troublemakers, psychos, name-callers, game-players, and guys who feel because I share parts of my life freely that they don’t have to observe any of my boundaries whatsoever. I’ve had men whose need for validation and attention is so great that they don’t really seem to care that there’s a real person behind the blogger. Even this last week I had someone whose need for attention was so great that he stayed up for hours one night leaving potty-mouthed comments on dozens of entries across my blog.

The compromise I’ve had to make with myself to keep writing is that I write when I want to. I write when I have a story that I really want to share. I’m not obligating myself to interact when the impulse isn’t there; I’m not trying to force myself to write a given number of times a week, just to keep the posts coming. If I share a story, it’s because I really, really want to.

I know that means I’m writing less this year than in previous years. I’m sorry for those of you who wish I’d post more frequently. But I think you can concede it’s better that I post once in a while, because I want to, than it is that I post multiple half-hearted entries . . . or post none at all.

I always laugh when you post about the losers you encounter. Any good ones lately? Thanks for the posts!

Well, I did have one who managed to flabbergast me with the sheer size of his ego, not that long ago.

There’s a local guy—name and profile link provided upon request, because he managed to piss me off so badly by being such an fuckwad!—who’s lived several places in my vicinity over the past four years. He started out a good few dozen miles west down the highway, then migrated closer and closer until he lived right in my town. I’m not going to deny his profile is hot. I mean, the guy’s a stud, judging from his photos. He’s one of those hairy muscle-ass types whom bears like to claim as being of their own tribe . . . he looks a bit as if Popeye’s nemesis, Bluto (or Brutus, depending on your generation) were a furry bareback porn star who’d not only eaten his spinach every day and grown muscles all over, but had knocked over Popeye to steal his spinach so that his muscles could grow muscles of his own.

He’d been hitting me up ever since I moved here. The problem, however, wasn’t distance. I was willing to drive out to see him in the days he lived a good hour away, and I’ve certainly been willing to drive the eight or nine miles to his current home ever since he took up residence here. The problem is that he would come online, hit me up strong and hungry, and then disappear for fucking months at a time.

The other problem is that we’d make a date to connect, and he’d never keep it. Every time he’d show up online, after being AWOL for an entire season, he’d tell me that we’d have to fuck man, fuck, man, we have to fuck! I’d leave him ways to contact me—my email, my phone number. I’d ask if he was free on Thursday—I had all Thursday off and was willing to come see him. Sure, man, he’d call me Thursday, sounds good, it’s definite . . . he promised he wouldn’t flake, man. Then Thursday would roll around. No call.

This happened so many times that I gave up on the guy. What’s more, he did it to several other guys I know in the area. My best friend attempted to hook up with him several times. “He’s going to tell you he’ll keep a certain day clear just for you,” I warned him. “But then that day will come and he won’t be around.” My friend, I think, was convinced that I was too cynical and this hairy muscle-ass guy wouldn’t disappoint him the way he’d consistently disappointed me.

When my friend was inevitably ditched and dismayed, though, it managed to piss me off even more than the multiple times when the guy had done it to me.

So I was done with him. I just ignored the guy when he’d log on. I’d read his mails, but not respond. I didn’t want to play the game any longer.

One day in April, though, after I declined to interact with the asshole, I got this email from him:

Okay man.... When the hottest Bottom in the room offers someone like yourself his ass, you are clearly intimidated (for good reason) or you are clearly not a Top. Confessing your a bottom certainly doesn't make you less of a Man, Look at me... Fortunately there are a lot of less fortunates in the room to for you to play with. Cheers...

I confess my jaw dropped. Really, this guy was lumping everyone else into the category of ‘the less fortunates’ just because he thinks he’s the hottest bottom in the room? Damn. That takes some gall. I wrote back the following response, waited until he’d read it, and then blocked him:

I have given you both my email and phone number in the past. You've never used either. When we've talked before and I've given you times I'm available, you've claimed you would hit me up....and never did. Multiple times. 
You're attractive. Sure. But assuming that you're the hottest bottom 'someone like myself' could pull is both egotistical and wildly incorrect. 
I'm glad you consider yourself fortunate. I hope your good fortune continues. Perhaps in the future you'll also be fortunate enough to realize that your looks aren't always going to compensate for poor behavior.

Somehow I’ve managed to get by, all these years, without being the recipient solely of pity fucks or charity sex. Sometimes I find the ‘less fortunates’ to be better lovers—and better people—than those who can only bring muscle to the table.

Sometimes I’ve even the hottest top in the room. But I manage not to be an asshole about it.


  1. I'm the same age you are, fifty. In the dictionary for most gay men, fifty = ninety. I understand completely why a gentleman in his seventh decade would be skeptical of a twenty or thirty-something would be attracted. Relationships like those are extremely rare and, it has been my observation, driven more by the size of the older gentleman's bank account rather than any real attraction. Those real relationships exist, but I just think it's very rare. When I reached the fifty mark, I got the message loud and clear from my peers of all ages, I was no longer considered worth talking to. Indeed, since I turned forty, dating and sex rapidly became events that were fewer and far between to the point that they are non-existent now. So if a young man were to come up to me now and say he was attracted to me, I'd be very wary and very skeptical.

    1. Your experience, I have to say, is wildly different from mine. I personally know several men older than myself involved in long-term relationships with younger men, and I wouldn't say that in any of those particular cases it's motivated by the size of the older man's bank account. In two of the relationships, in fact, the younger man is much better off.

      My experience with sex as I grow older is vastly different as well. I got the message that I was too old, unwelcome, and no longer part of the desirable crowd when I was thirty, and I spent much of that decade having sex only rarely. When I hit forty, however, I was having more sex than I was at any point in my teens or twenties, and now that I'm over fifty, the opportunities haven't decreased in the slightest—particularly from much, much younger men (none of whom are after my bank account).

      I'm sorry that your experience has been sour, but it's not necessarily the norm everywhere . . . thank goodness.

    2. I have to agree with the Breeder. I hit my stride in my late 40’s and now my 50's. I've never been busier or more desired by others--many of whom are young men. I work in the arts--NO one is after bank account.

      In my case I think it's about confidence--that's a huge part of what they are finding sexy. I know what I like, what I like to do and only bother with people who want the same things. It took me a long time to get there--but I turn heads in a bathhouse or at IML now far more than I ever did when I was 25 and unsure of myself.

      I was taught that I would be put to pasture by 49. Instead I did my first porn at 52.

  2. I've seen your profile on a4a and you're hella hot. And you're like angry-whistling-teakettle-steaming-but-i-still-wanna-touch-it hot when I couple that with what I know about how you carry yourself and your general positivity towards what gets thrown your way. So I'm not gonna waste my time pumping up the ego of the bastard by clicking up his profile viewership count. =)

    Oh, and I've had a crush on Sean Astin since Goonies and Toy Soldiers and nearly wet my pants when I started seeing him pop up in the Lord of the Rings. I was like, he's even hotter now. My friend at work simply said, "Ew".

    1. You've got good taste, Bruce! On both counts, of course. ;-)

  3. To each of us sexy is sexy, we all know what we like and we know it when we see it. One shouldn't try and figure it out, but just go with it using common sense.

  4. I always enjoy reading this kind of entry because you always answer these questions very professionnaly like you are, a well modest and humble man and i always admire that on you my friend. I am a modest man also and when people tell me that i'm sexy i told them that they must have seen somebody else but sometimes i thank them for their kind words. It's gratifying to think that some people think that yook good even at my age, i will be 60 next march but people think i'm in my late 40's so i'm pleased with that. You my dear friend are sexier now than you were before. And for your posting, i don't mind that you write less, the one that you are putting now are some of the best that you wrote so far. I always enjoy your writing and you are way better than before. Love you man. From an old friend. Xox


  5. Rob
    Now, in my "late" 70's sex has NEVER been more fun for me. It's taken me 20 or more years to stop questioning why hot, desirable and often VERY good looking guys in their 30's and 40's seek me out to worship my uncut cock. I accept them and welcome them and thank my fuckin' lucky stars they find me. I have been aggressive by dropping into the Town House in Manhattan (a Mecca of intergenerational dating.) I have met many (cannot count) suitable and really hot guys on, my main source these days. One 40ish stud who hit me up there invited me to his glamorous Gramercy apartment and spent the afternoon pleasuring me. When I quizzed him why he was not attracted to men his own age, he said "They might as well have vaginas. I can't get excited over them."
    As for your asshole readers, please find associates who can screen your mail and messages and protect you from the crazies who discourage you. Several of us could volunteer.

    1. Friskypop, have you ever seen me at the Town House? I'm there not unfrequently.

  6. Mr. Breeder Sir....I just love you!! (Thankfully you know me well enough....I know that there is no need for a restraining order...not that I wouldn't want to BE restrained by you....dang, I think I'm making it worse!)

  7. During the majority of my sex life I was always attracted to men older than myself. These guys had been around the block and amassed an enviable variety of sexual skills, and I thought they were the hottest men out there -- and man, I was right. Now that I'm in my late 60s, I find myself the object of some younger men's desire. I never fail to be amazed by men who consider intergenerational sex "creepy" or "disgusting" and I decry the ageism that exists in parts of the gay world. Young and old have a great deal to offer each other.