Election Update: Sex

Sigh, this is another explicit language warning. If you are related to me in any way, please stop reading here. There's some election analysis below, go look at that.

It's what, four hours after my last post, and I've been thinking about it. You know what it's missing? Sex. After all, having been sitting in the same room for a month, I've been pretty starved out.

Which is bizarre, because I don't think I usually starve for sex. I mean, I don't sleep around at all. If anything I want to sleep around more. I'd like to generally be more slutty, and by not being slutty, I feel like I've missed out.

I hit on this when I realized that I was hitting porn heavy the last couple of nights. I don't pay for it. I like the challenge and the effort involved in hunting around for the short clips and tacking them together. I really should just join a site, but I know that I'd probably get bored to quick. The sites are all so specific. What if I like a general selection of hot guy of various ages and body types? So hunting is the norm.

But I really hadn't intended being as . . . er, consumptive as I was. I mean, at one point I had 10 files downloading for nearly an hour. Each clips takes 2 to 3 minutes to load, so I was really busy, click click click.

Okay, now that we've explored my "viewing" habits, I'm going to embarrass myself even more. Let's explore the straight guys that I love.

Okay, first off is the biggy. There's a guy from college that I still dream about. If you've known me in the last four years, you probably know what sport he plays. I talk talk talk about him, don't I? I still dream about him.

The weird thing is, my dreams are awfully domestic about him. If I ever want to be a girl, it's just for him. I'd work out, I'd dye my hair blond. I'd do a heck of a lot to be with him, and even then I don't think that he'd be interested. As a guy, I can be an intellectual, but if I was a girl, I'd be way to smart to be attractive.

There's some other bizarre parts of the dreams surrounding this guy too. The animal dreams, for instance. Not bestiality, but I used to dream of turning into a house cat or a snake (retaining my intelligence, of course) and tracking him down so that I could live with him. In the actual dream, I remember that I was the snake, and I was stuck in that form. While I'm awake, I usually go for a were-snake or were-kitten form so that I can be human and sleep as a fuzzy bundle in his bed.

Okay, yeah, I know that's screwed, but you're telling me that you're not screwy somehow?

There's also the bizarre fact that quite aside from the twisted animal dream above, I can remember sleeping with him. I was in that college still but I'd left him in the dust, and I had this vivid dream. Really vivid. Way too vivid and real.

Crap, I love him and hate him. If he ever got a girl pregnant, I'd claim paternity to protect him. That's how much I still love him. I'd basically ruin my life for him.

Now there's a lot of other straight guys. I mean, that I like. There aren't any more that I would kill for. The intellectual guy, and the co-worker (not you Rob). Crap. I'm gay, why can't you be gay?

I had a conversation with Oscar in which I told him that I don't understand heterosexuality. I don't. It doesn't make the least bit of sense. I like you, why don't you like me? I have these deep primal feelings that are at the core of my emotional reaction that tell me that you're the ones that I'm supposed to be pursuing. Why don't you have the same feelings? The intellectual guy is a good example right now. He's gorgeous, smart (hence, the nickname) and straight. Damn him. Damn the universe. It's not ever like it's some that I can go do, like cut my hair or wear a suit, he's just fundamentally not interested in me.

I wish I could convince him to experiment.

Now, I'm thinking that Evan was bi. If you know an English major at UNM named Evan, tell him that he was gorgeous. Forget the jeep and the skateboard, I wish I'd been a little less closed off. I was interested. I just thought you were straight, and I go way out of my way to make my straight friends comfortable with me.

So I lied, and I told you I wasn't interested, but there were hints that you were interested in me. People don't hang out with me, usually. I feel like a pariah because sometimes I think that Elliot and R. are the only people that have kept in touch with me. You hung out with me, and I didn't understand that at the time. Now I think I do, even though I still don't know exactly what you saw in someone as out of shape as me when you are so gorgeous. You hear that, Evan? I thought not.

Who else? The guy who I stalked in my movie classes. I hope you didn't drop out because of me. You were just the prettiest guy I'd seen in a while, and I just latched on. Sorry.

The warrior's boyfriend. You were tall dark and handsome. I hope you did well and the high jump. Somewhere, I think I still have the stuffed animal named after you. It's pretty funny that I had a nickname for you and that I wasn't scared to tell the warrior about it. And you didn't avoid me, which was odd at the time.

There's all the actors too, all the straight parts in movies that I don't get, but they don't matter, they're not real (except Neil Patrick Harris, he's real now). Everyone else is fading into a haze of memory.

Except one last guy. I terrified you. You didn't understand me, and I couldn't be touched because of who and what I am. You were the one with the huge biceps and the girlfriend from my floor, and you were the one terrified of me. I've never scared anyone before, but not being afraid of you made me powerful. I could taunt you. I could stalk you, and it was bliss.

I'm coming back, reviewing everything that I wrote, and decided that Elliot should end. You know how long I considered it? That fifteen minutes before you told me that you weren't gay. Thank your God for that, because you're a damn good friend, and I needed to know that right up front and I need to remember that more often. You're not straight to me dude, you're so much more than that. Granted, you're not one of the gay guys that ignores me either. You're something else again.

And here's the real end of this: if you think that one of these is you, ask me. I'll tell you. You think that I'm afraid of you?