Sunday Morning Questions: Boxing Day Edition

Christmas of 2010 has passed. Did everyone get what they wanted? I'd love to know what your best gifts were--let me know in the comments!

My own holiday was spent in a pleasurable manner. I picked up the visiting family members from the airport in the afternoon, made dinner for everyone, ate happily, and spent the evening watching Doctor Who like the big geek that I am. I did receive a couple of really nice gifts from readers that I'll be sure to showcase, once I have the privacy to take some photos again.

But as I ever do on Sundays, I'll be recapping some of the questions I've been asked on formspring.me, that free service that allows one's friends (and strangers) to make inquiries, and neatly collects the results onto a single page. Feel free to use the service to ask me whatever you'd like--or simply email me with your questions and I'll get around to them. Eventually. Honest, I swear. (My goal is to have a clean mailbox by year's end!)


Is there anything sexier than confidence?
A cocky grin and a scruffy face go a long way.


Do you know who Beverly Strassmann is?
Only by Googling the name. Why?


Should your followers start a fund to relocate Scruffy to Connecticut? An apartment and maybe a job at a place like Eastern Mountain Sports. What do you think?
I think it would be the greatest charitable act ever known to mankind. Will there be a telethon?


"Move Scruffy!" Fund: For your sake and Scruffy's, within what sort of radius (in miles) should Scruffy's still-to-be-found-and-furnished-apartment be from your new home, in Connecticut? It's time to get granular, right?
I think I need to sell the old home, first. Then find a new one.

Before Scruffy moved back in with his folks, he only lived a mile from me.


It's KARAOKE night! What's your Grammy winning performance song?
"Private Dancer." Tell me, do you wanna see me do the shimmy again?


Would you rather eat a load or wear it?
Loads are for inside a hole. They're not accessories.


If I met you right now, what do you think my first impression of you would be?
That I need to put on some damned clothes.


Do you believe in fate?
When a pebble drops into water, it sets off ripples in every direction. I believe that's what we do with every decision we make and every action we take.

If you watch the way ripples interact, though, you'll see that they don't simply vanish into the horizon. Sometimes they rebound—whether from the edges of a container, or from the ripples that other people have set off. Sometimes they collide, and become larger, less predictable waves.

I believe that sometimes in our lives, the ripples we've set off might bring back to us little souvenirs we can cherish, just as the sea waves bring in shells and stones and other keepsakes. Or they can bring trash upon their swells—or even bear disaster. If that's fate, then yes, I believe in it. However, to me it all starts with the pebbles we drop into the waters ourselves.


Have you ever been in a relationship with someone & now looking back saying to yourself "What the f*ck was I thinking?"
I've fallen for certain guys whom, years later, I'll look at and think, "Good god, what was that all about?"

I think we tell ourselves certain stories about people in order to incorporate them into our lives, and sometimes we overemphasize certain attributes. We tell ourselves the guy's more handsome than he is, or smarter than he ever could be, or has winning personality traits that he obviously doesn't have. We overlook the obvious faults.

It's only later on, when there's more perspective, that we can see the truth we ignored earlier.


I'm a natural bottom, love taking it in both holes, cum the easiest when I'm stuffed. But I'm an ok top, not great. Plus, while I love both rough & gentle tops, my inner top waiting to be set free is a nasty boy. Any hints on improving my topping skills?
I'd suggest topping more often. There's no shortage of guys out there who are looking for tops. Any tops. Even okay-but-not-great tops. You could easily have your pick.

I suspect that your self-assessment of being merely adequate is fairly modest. If you want to get better, fuck a lot. Pay attention to your partners and how they respond to certain things you do; make sure to do the things they enjoy more often, and perhaps even more intensely.

And if your inner top is a nasty boy, let him loose. The wilder you fuck, the more you'll enjoy yourself. And the more you enjoy yourself, the more your partner will have a good time.