To Fuse Endlessly

I usually blog every four to five days.  Not this time.  Yesterday “Abundance Without” and again now; I am unusually energized and moved.  I must share!  I must express through motion…e-motion!  Connecting to the fabrics of life: seeing, tasting, hearing and feeling — for me through music…I dance — touching someone you connect with, smelling each other’s pheromones, reacting to all their senses and movements…blending, combining, following, melting, merging…fusing.  Listening with eyes closed…I am ALIVE, moving, synchronized with these words and rhythm, and it is so good.  My soul lifts, swelling into everything around me.

Come with me, follow… “lie next to me”…and come what may:

Kathy’s Song (VNV Victoria remix) by Apoptygma Berserk:

Oh my love, it’s time
You know how it feels
You read between the lines
You know me better than I do
I lost again, my friend
You know I’m not a saint
You knew it all this time
Still you’ve been waiting for me…

Oh my love, it’s time
You know how it feels
You read between the lines

And know me better than I do
I’m lost again my friend
You know I’m not a saint
You’ve known it all this time
Still you’ve been waiting for me…

Come lie
next to me.

Know why,
you and me are one.

(repeat twice)

(Please) Come lie
next to me.

No lies,
you and me are one.

You know I’m not a saint…

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Live Laugh Love

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Creative Commons License This work by Professor Taboo is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at https://professortaboo.wordpress.com.

Abundance Without

As part of the Alternative Lifestyles blog-posts migration over to the new blog The Professor’s Lifestyles Memoirs, this post has been moved there. To read this post please click the link to the blog.

Your patience is appreciated. Thank you!

Soul MateS

As part of the Alternative Lifestyles blog-posts migration over to the new blog The Professor’s Lifestyles Memoirs, this post has been moved there. To read this post please click the link to the blog.

Your patience is appreciated. Thank you!

Love Gas – Part Two

Regrettably (or not) this is my second part of my temporary rant and venting from Love Gas – Part One.  My apologies again to those readers who prefer funny, informative, or inspiring posts.  I prefer them as well.

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* * * * * * * * * *

gas maskIn Part One I mentioned two other times when two previous close female friendships had been sacrificed and severed for new exciting, hopeful love with a new partner or fiancé.  One of those two was by a former girlfriend and lover when she started dating a serious potential.  I will start with her and make it short because the other “sacrifice” deserves much more time.

In the scheme of these two posts, closing down or allowing to fade away the relationship/friendship of former lovers or ex-spouses is commonly understood, accepted, and nothing really out of the ordinary.  Mainstream society, or at least mainstream conservative society, seems to believe that once sexual relations have been had between a man and woman, woman and woman, man and man, or that they once passionately loved one another, then if that deep love doesn’t end with married until death, or until divorced, then it cannot be shared continuously and simultaneously with the newest lover.

I do not agree at all with this (American?) societal stigma, but for the sake of time and space I will not argue against it here and now.  Prior to my entrance into the open-swinger polyamorous lifestyles many years ago, I have not had contact with any of my pre-open/poly lifestyle partners, except one.  And she asks that for the sake of peace and her children, we keep it very discreet; at least until her children are grown and out of the house.

Ugh, yes it is complicated; especially for her.  It is also too complicated to get into here.  I considered not even mentioning it.  Fortunately for the sake of peace and her children, we live over 300-miles a part and nothing at all has happened physically between us since 1989; way before her current marriage.  We do have a long great friendship and she completely understands my warnings and the risks she – and to be fair me too – are taking inside traditional frameworks by NOT including him in the friendship!  I’ve accepted that we agree to disagree on how divulging she might/should be with her husband.  In the end, it is her business…. and it could become mine too somewhere down the road.

But in my honesty I have wandered off track.

Regarding my former open-swinger girlfriend – who I deeply care for and will always, and have loved deeply and still could – since we ended our “official” relationship, we have always maintained a close friendship.  However, what has always frustrated and angered me is when a new “vanilla” man enters her life… our close passionate friendship vanishes.  Then when it ends with Mr. Newman (probably because he senses there is another former lover he could NEVER surpass… like it’s a fucking competition anyway!) our closeness picks right up where it left off.  I have expressed to her several times, ever since our official ending, how much that irritates me!  But apparently (and we both laugh at this point) “I just don’t get it!”  Well yeah, no shit Sherlock.

I have learned thoroughly now that I cannot be held or kept responsible for everyone’s “feelings”… and that so includes those men (BFH’s) I have never met!  No surprise there Sherlock; duh, there’s a reason why I’ve never met them and may not ever!  HAH!  Hence, there’s the double-amplified curse/repellant I mentioned in Part One.  Yes, I have been told that I would make the worst spy or secret agent.  I will own that, proudly.

Now For the Really Big One
A likeness of my Aphrodite

An exact likeness of my dear lesbian “Aphrodite” friend.

Several years ago at my favorite club to dance and to the best dancing music by one of Dallas’ best DJ’s, I boldly introduced myself to one of the most stunning women I had ever seen dancing.  She was also there with a guy and noticeably dancing only with him; but he seemed very, very young.  Here, I will call her Aphrodite and the image left, though not her… does not do her justice.  Simply put she turns everyone’s heads; man and woman alike.  She defines a pin-up girl to the max.

A day or two later we met for an afternoon lunch around the corner from her apartment.  She had many questions for me.  What made the afternoon more enjoyable, was her unabashed lack of timidness in expressing her thoughts and feelings; all carefully thought out.  What I appreciated most about Aphrodite was that in less than ten-fifteen minutes, she let me know clearly she was lesbian.  And she did it with no pomp or bitterness due to society’s treatment of gays and lesbians.  I really liked that.  I immediately respected her person and discarded every one of my heterosexual fantasies with her… as much as I hated to hear her proclamation.  Imagine a boy with a 10-inch frozen icicle and it quickly melts under the 110 degree heat.  Nevertheless, we have been close dear friends for over six years.  Yet as is usually the case with gorgeous people, we were not immune to vulnerable moments sneaking into our close friendship.

The Risk versus Reward Dilemma

In the third year of our friendship, and during an emotionally disastrous ending to her then relationship with a pseudo-psychotic girlfriend, Aphrodite made many a wee-hour phone call to me asking me to drive over and be with her.  She asked because she wanted support in not calling the ex-girlfriend and trying to quickly fix it all or understand it prematurely.  This is not an easy road to tread as anyone can attest.  Sometimes it really is best to leave things alone until the hatchets are buried.  That was hard for her.  Ring-ring, my phone goes off 12-midnight, sometimes 1:30am.  Grab my keys, get in the car, drive forty-minutes to her place, talk, hug, hold her until we fell asleep.  This continued for some three or four weeks.

Then one night late, while thanking me and kissing my cheek, she puts her hand down my shorts and proceeds to maul me.  I cannot move — unlike my manly hetero part down there — DAMN IT!  She notices my paralysis. I don’t want to stop” she whispers, “but I will if you tell me.  Are you fucking kidding me!?  I manage barely 3-seconds of brain activity and reply “The last thing I want is something like this to fuck-up our friendship.”  That did not stop her.  In fact, it probably fueled the moment.

A day or two later we talked about that “moment” and wonderfully made nothing big about it or let it define our friendship or situation.  It was what it was.  I wasn’t going to study it to death.  More pressure was not what she required then.  Many of our friends would later ask if we two were dating…an item.  We had been seen spending a lot of time together.  We’d laugh.  I had surmised that she was maybe 90% lesbian, 10% bisexual (with the right guy?), but it was left up to her to determine that not me or the rest of the world.

Then a new “incredible” woman came into the picture three-four weeks later.  Aphrodite was obviously very attracted to her and very hopeful and excited about their possibilities.  Then the grand piano dropped from the 10th floor:  “When you come over to hang out and spend the night, you must sleep in my guest bedroom now.”

The 2011 movie

The 2011 movie “Your Sister’s Sister” where the lesbian sister sleeps with her sister’s hetero boyfriend.

I understood, but what she said did not sit well with me.  She noticed my shocked perplexed expression.  She explained to me that in the LGBT community, she would be ostracized for “being with” a heterosexual man.  She kept saying “you can’t understand it” as if I were some dumb blood-flows-one-way horny Neanderthal.  Granted that is the median in the male high-T world today, I mean there are a shitload of hetero alpha-males who delusionally want to CONVERT hot lesbians, but I am not even consumed by what or where I can stick my dick like the average hetero high-T male!  I asked her “have I ever pushed you to be someone you’re not just to satisfy my brain-consuming libido!?”  Never” she answered, “and that is what I have always loved about you!”

But my simplistic logic wasn’t going to change anything.  Her own image in the “abnormal” different culture of the LGBT community was more important than our intimate supportive friendship.  Now I knew what it felt like to be a nigger in the 1800’s or 1940’s, 50’s, or 60’s – or more accurately all during European and North American slavery.  Now I knew what it felt like to be a gay man in a horribly violent binary life-system in the bigot south.  Now I knew what it felt like to be considered an inferior human being; pick any historical setting.  Take it from me….it really feels like shit.

For 8-10 months Aphrodite and I did not talk.  Since then she has been involved in a later new 18-month relationship to a truly wonderful woman.  I am proud of Aphrodite for how she’s learned and matured, but to this day she doesn’t really know the depth of platonic hurt she caused.  I have moved on from it and we still talk freely and openly as we always have.  But she’s asked that I avoid alluding to that evening to her girlfriend or anyone else… and so that damn annoying question rears its ugly head again:

Why can you not openly comfortably talk to your B-GFH the way you talk and act around me!?

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Creative Commons License This work by Professor Taboo is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at https://professortaboo.wordpress.com.

Love Gas – Part One

gas maskLet me apologize beforehand to my readers who do not favor venting or ranting. But I am a big time communicator of all feelings and thoughts because right or wrong doesn’t matter at that instance! It is the raw honesty that matters and matters critically! No one can or would know how to manage a sensitive situation if they are not working with REAL truths, the bare-naked facts! In a way then, I am not truly apologizing right now; I reserve the right to do it later. But I have to get this off my chest.

* * * * * * * * * *

I am not posting this based on any theory.  It is not based on any scientific research of which I am presently aware.  I’m not even sure if this subject has been written about for ages by thousands.  But this post is most definitely from personal experiences and I am getting increasingly fed-up with it!

When I feel my pulse rise like this I try my best to find appropriate ways to vent.  One of those successful ways is to go run.  Run until I can barely expand my lungs and rib-cage.  Another that works for me extremely well is going to a batting-cage and hitting the shit out of baseballs… or softballs if I want to dish out a thoroughly good whacking!  True story:  once I did bust open the covering on a baseball I swung so hard.  I realize the ball was likely old and on its last home run, but still… it felt good!

I am ready to run hard.  I am so ready to hit the covers off some baseballs screaming a new expletive with every 1,000 foot homer I hit!  Well, I’m not Miguel Cabrera:  between 100 – 120 foot homer… some of them frickin’ grounders!

Here is what has happened….. again.

That Delirium Idiot-Inducing Love Gas

The other day I posted a polite encouraging compliment on a dear friend’s profile in response to her photo and comments of how happy she is newly married.  I quote:  “Isn’t it great to be a great parent [her name]!?  And also a phenomenal wife!”

The critical context…

From the 2010 movie

From the 2010 movie “Last Night”. Husband & wife married under wrenching fear, silence & half-truths.

My dear female friend and I have a long close friendship that goes back 30-years to college.  We have always been close platonic friends that entire time.  This is her second marriage to apparently, according to her, the best man in the world she could’ve ever dreamt for.  I am extremely happy for them both!  She and I had hundreds of long-distance phone calls running hours long about her first slow dying marriage then exploding divorce which involved her four children.  It was nasty and the ex-husband put her through hell and back using the kids, financially putting her through the ringers, and shaming her publicly (via their church) for her extra-marital affair.  You’d had thought a public stoning was next.

Over this past Mother’s Day weekend she texted me three long messages overly thanking me for always making her feel she was not the slum-of-the-Earth for cheating on her ex-husband and always fighting his brutal shaming of her and him never taking ownership for his part of a rotting marriage he was clearly a half-part of.  The death of a marriage is never ever one-sided; I learned that the hard way twice despite being cheated on both times.

From 400-miles away during her nasty divorce, I had always gladly been available for her.  We always had no-holes-barred conversations about anything under the Sun or Moon; I mean ANYTHING!  Naturally, this comfort level included much verbal flirting.  At the time it helped her self-esteem enormously.  Disclaimer:  To put any of my reader’s suspicions to bed (seriously no pun intended there!), in our 30-year friendship we had never done anything the least bit sexual; only the verbal flirts over the phone, always 400-miles away.

My Ears Must Be Enormous

When it comes to “unavailable” women, I’ve learned too many times the painful way, my exceptional communication skills, levels of rawness, and articulation are my glory/attraction and my curse/repellant.  The doubling of the curse/repellant is also amplified by the seemingly insecure BFH (boyfriend, fiancé, or husband).  Here is the kicker:  for whatever reasons, the BFH does not know me, or maybe anything about me.  He damn sure doesn’t know me like a best friend over five, ten, twenty years or anything about my integrity like she does.

I’ve asked so many times, how/why is this so frequently the case?

Or replace

Or replace “opinions” with “feelings”.

Yesterday, I received three long text messages from my dear happily married friend.  She preempted her message I know you’re going to hate what I’m about to say and ask you…  She is probably spot-on because we do indeed know each other (platonically) very well.  That is simply the way the Universe has put us in each other’s life.  She goes on with “…like you and your ex-wives, I am remarried to a very jealous husband who also was hurt deeply and cheated on.  I do not want to and cannot mess this one up!  Finally my semi-orders: Please rein back your [public] comments and their frequency; he is going to get too suspicious!

After I took about 45-minutes to an hour to simmer down, I responded, “Helen of Troy [the name I’m giving her here], I am 400-miles away and now we hardly ever talk.  Seriously?”  We no longer talk for hours or as many times because when they began dating it was too risky and she still had some guilt over her previous infidelity.  She wanted to prove to him beyond a shadow of doubt that she was no longer a….let’s use a different term than her ex-husband and church used:  expressive courtesan.  I completely abided to her fears and request then.  Reluctantly I will again, and angry again.  I want to scream.

Here is my screaming question which annoyingly arises too often with female friends…

Why can you not openly comfortably talk to your BFH the way you have talked for 30-years to me!?

And this question leads to perhaps too many other revealing questions doesn’t it?

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Part Two will be over two previous situations with good close female friends; one of them I promise will be unexpected and even more revealing!  You’ll want to stay-tuned.  Trust me.

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Creative Commons License This work by Professor Taboo is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at https://professortaboo.wordpress.com.