A Statement of Policy

One of the questions I used to get with frequency—though I haven't received it lately, for some reason—had to do with my blog's veracity. Usually it would be phrased in the form of, Come on, tell the truth, how much of this shit you write about is real? Because apparently if I were making it all up, I'd tumble like a house of cards before the confrontational tone and confess that I was twenty years older than I claim and a neurotic near-virgin with access to a good imagination and a thesaurus.

But no, everything I write about is right out of my life. It's the real, non-fictional deal. The events I describe are encounters I have from week to week—or from my past, if they're clearly indicated as being from previous years. The photos are mine. People who meet me in person will tell you (or at least I hope and think they will) that there's very little dissonance between my online persona and the type of guy I am when I'm sitting across a table from you in a bar or coffee shop, telling a story about my life. I therefore don't have a lot of vested interest in trying to persuade anyone I'm a super-stud, or a beast on the prowl, or a pick-up artist with an unparalleled track record.

I simply am what I am, and I lay that all out here, without apologies.

There are aspects of reality I fiddle with in my entries, I readily admit. One of the most frequent accusations I receive, mostly made in a veiled way, is along the lines of, "Nobody can shoot as many times as you in a single encounter!" I'm afraid I do. Yet I have on a couple of occasions—only two come to mind—fibbed about the number of orgasms I've had, in an entry.

I don't exaggerate them, though. I've cut climaxes out. In the "Cunt" entry, for example, I think I wrote about giving Cunt's hole two loads, when in reality I gave him three. I chopped one out because I was running short on writing time, and because occasional suggestions of exaggeration made me self-conscious about shoe-horning in the third orgasm, even though it took place.

Otherwise, the details I change are circumstantial. The names of individuals, for example, or their professions sometimes. I've altered the descriptions of a couple of people who would've been extremely distinctive otherwise. I eliminate information they might tell me that would give away an identity. In other words, I tend to be pretty protective in a lot of ways of my sexual partners. I don't want anyone harassed, or recognized, or singled out, because of the careless remarks of some random bareback blogger.

The other line of questioning I get most frequently—and as the questions about the 'realness' of my blog have gone down, these have increased—have to do with my family and home life. A lot of men are fascinated by what they imagine my situation must be. If I'm protective of my sexual partners, I'd like to say that I'm even more so of my nearest and dearest. That's why, as open as I tend to be about my picaresque sexual life, I tend not to talk very much about my home life with readers.

I will say this: I ask my readers, however, to check their assumptions at the door when they think about my home life. I've had all kinds of fantasies projected upon me, from treacherous cheat to anything-goes swinger. I'm not really one to conform to those archetypes. Don't assume that my home life is built upon any of them, and most especially don't assume that it's built on a foundation of lies and deceit. Your assumptions are likely to be wrong, if you do.

I'm writing this admission not to discourage people from writing me, or asking questions on formspring.me, or reaching out in any way. Rather, I'm hoping to explain why sometimes I discard or evade a very small handful of questions of the many asked of me. If they overstep that one boundary I try to maintain, you may find me weaselly, and I apologize for it. If the questions are outright aggressively invasive, I will probably ignore them altogether. I recognize and honor your curiosity. I merely reserve the right to keep some things to myself.

I'm also writing this non-sexual entry because I'm fundamentally lazy. It'll be easier in the future to point readers and correspondents here than it would be to type out my reasoning, every single time.

Thanks for bearing with me today, and enjoy your Labor Day weekend!