Sunday, January 30, 2011

Greeting and Salutations.

First off, I didn't pick the name.  'Twas chosen for me by a muse to be named ( or aliased, as the case may be ) later.  I would have gone for something more like "The stories of a guy who is totally stunned by his success, because it never happened back when it wouldn't have gotten him into trouble."  But, such is life.
I suppose some background is in order.  As usual, the names have been changed to protect the not at all innocent from the wrath of the innocent and seriously pissed off.  I don't condone what is chronicled here, but I am at peace with it.
I'm a computer geek from a wonkin' big midwestern city.  Chicago, Dallas, Denver, Houston, Minneapolis, it doesn't matter which one.  I'm tall, about 20 pounds overweight from where I should be, average looks, am outgoing and was once a member of Mensa.  Have wonderful kids, a good career, and an abysmal marriage.  Yes, I'm one of those, a serial cheater, trying to justify his cheating and convince himself he had no other choice.  I'm not looking for acceptance, not looking for someone to tell me its ok, not looking for someone to tell me I'm going to hell ( I'm an atheist, thats not really a deterrent ).  This is merely intended as satisfaction to the voyeuristic needs of the muse and as catharsis for me - Having such a wild, depressing but ultimately wonderful 9 month stretch and not being able to tell a soul is making me a bit nuts.  Er, nuttier.  
I grew up in a small town, knowing I never belonged.  Dated three women in high school, one for four years ( a very dear friend, was at my wedding ), another a few times and then a third for a few magical moments at the end of my senior year.  I read somewhere that the part of the brain that stores the memories of first love is the same part that is excited by a cocaine addiction.  I believe it.  I dated, lets call her Chloe, for all of 4 months.  Easily the best months of my life.  Never had sex, she was two years my junior and, for some reason, some screwball paternal instinct kept it from happening.  You might think thats why the fascination is there, the one that got away.  But no, its more than sexual with her.  I wrote poetry.  Bad, bad poetry, but poetry nonetheless.  I was headed off to college far away, changed and went to the local state school an hour away to be close to her.  Of course, it ended because its insane to think someone as beautiful, outgoing, smart and funny as her would forgo the fun of dating in high school to settle down with some guy in college.  Eventually, I stuffed all memories away.  The poetry notebooks ended up in cold storage and I moved to a new state, and proceeded to nearly drink myself blind for about two years.
Apparently, the brain cells I killed were the ones that connected those stuffed memories with my current functions, so I got myself functioning again.  Got a job, started building a career.  
Skipping ahead a few years, moved to the big city, met a single mom, very pretty, had the look that works for me ( The vast majority of women I've dated over the years fit a look, skin tone, hair color, etc.  Rather eerie, actually.  And yes, Chloe is the basis. ).  She was strong, independent, had her life together, which I did not at the time ( I was about 25 by this point. ).  We fell in love and got married.  Sex was fine, not earth shattering, but I figured things would relax after the rings went on.  And yes, I hear the groans of "stupid" as you read that.
By year two, we were on the quarterly subscription and the script had been set.  Spoon, Missionary, Shower.  And about half as exciting to do as it was to type.  And the frustration grew.
A little aside here, a little something about me.  I like sex, I do, but I don't require it daily.  I do, however, require it more than quarterly.  So I'm not some oeversexed Charlie Sheen wannabe.
Anyhow, the frustration grew as she ( I really need a pseudonym for the wife.  TW, the wife.  Done. ) got more and more co-dependent and lazy.  I won't get into the myriad examples, this isn't about bashing TW, but suffice it to say things went south. But I kept plugging along.  A few bouts of counseling, a few heartfelt discussions, nothing major.
Then my 20 year HS reunion came up.  Everybody was on this Facebook thing, which I had no interest in until I got picked for the planning committee for the reunion ( I'm a music junkie and was pinged to create a late 80's playlist ).  So I though I'd hop on, find other people.  
Friended some people, talked a bit.  And then....Chloe.  There she was.  Still as stunning as she was 20 years before.  
More to come....

Thursday, January 27, 2011

It's set up, you just have to write...

Okay, my darling man-whore, impress me.  I want to hear about those conquests and the online seduction that led up to them.  Details?  I know you asked before.  I haven't decided how much is appropriate.  I suppose you can go back and edit if it's too much?

H22