Sunday, May 16, 2010

Too Potent to Swallow

I missed meeting Marc.

I didn't pine for him, and I wasn't anywhere close to being an emotional wreck about him, but I still missed him.

In the months that followed our split we had several very enjoyable phone conversations. But Marc never asked me to meet him.

I therefore decided that I had to find another fuck buddy. I used Craigslist, which at the time wasn't the daily hook-up site that it is today. I don't remember how long it took to find a new buddy, but it wasn't long.

Will seemed like a good match. He was exactly my age. He was at ease with his sexuality, he was married with two kids, and, his office was across the parking lot from mine. Very convenient.

Before we met, we didn't know that we worked so near each other. But once we realized how close we were, our proximity proved to be quite a boon. We quickly became experts in the Lunch Hour Quickie.

Will was tall, 6'1", with an average build. He was decent looking. Objectively he was probably a little better looking than Marc, but Marc's personality greatly out-shined Will's.

Will was a computer geek. And contrary to the geeky stereo-type, his very best attribute wasn't his brain, it was his naturally beautiful dick. I had seen a lot of dicks over the years, but Will's was easily the prettiest one I ever touched. It was a perfect length, about 7.5 inches. It had a perfectly proportioned thickness and a classic head, neither too large nor too small. And it was always straight, STEEL hard and ready for action.

Most good relationships evolve over time, or at least they evolve from their early superficial days. My relationship with Will never evolved. We never became better friends and we never shared much about our personal lives.

Sadly, the sex with Will never evolved either. What began as quick, exciting blow job exchanges in my office became routine blow and gos. "Quick" and "exciting" became annoying and unsatisfying.

After about two months, I realized that Will and I weren't very sexually compatible. He wanted to meet every day. That was too often for me. I wanted more intimacy, that is, to fuck him. But there was no way he was going to let that happen. I even suggested that he fuck me, but he wasn't up for that either. All he wanted to do was trade blow jobs.

I kept up with Will's sexual needs as long as I could, but early in our third month of meeting, I started making more and more excuses for why I couldn't meet on a particular day. Then, when he complained, I told him that meeting once or twice a week was ideal for me. He said he was ok with that and we started meeting less often. Then I started pressing him about fucking. He made it clear that it was never going to happen. So, I gave up. Two weeks later I told him I couldn't meet any more. I told him the truth, which was that I just wasn't into the sex as I once was.

In retrospect it seems that Will wore me out. After I stopped meeting him, weeks, months and then years went by where I had no desire to meet any guys for sex. I still jacked off, but fuck buddies and hook-ups...I felt done with them. Too much trouble, not satisfying. And for the first time in my life I didn't feel restless or unhappy because I was not having them.

The last time I had sex with a guy was the one last time with Marc, more than seven years ago.

***

About a year after I stopped seeing Will, I realized that a perfect day was one where the phone never rang and no one ever talked to me. I was self-employed so if the phone stopped ringing, my income went down. But I didn't care. I was just happy to be left alone.

More and more, I came to dread going out socially with Gabbie. When we did go out, I didn't want her to leave my side. I worried that, while I was alone, I might have to talk to someone I didn't know.

Sometimes I'd think about sex, but not too often. When I thought about it, mostly I wondered why I didn't care about it any more. Even masturbating was dull. I could regularly go two weeks without doing it. And when I did, the orgasm was hardly worth bothering with. Mostly I needed to do it to release the physical edginess I felt when I went too long without cumming.

About two years after I stopped meeting Will, I started to become more concerned about my growing social anxiety. I had never been an anxious person. I wasn't an extrovert, but I certainly had never wished to spend day after day hoping the phone would never ring. I tried to think of reasons why I was suddenly feeling so anxious. Not that my anxiety bothered me, because it didn't. Nothing bothered me. I just wanted to be left alone.

As I thought about changes in my life or things that had happened to me, I realized there could be two reasons why I felt so very different about sex and people than I used to.

At some point, several years earlier, I was feeling rather horny while I was in the shower. I really craved some good prostate stimulation so I shoved a few fingers up my hole and pounded out a nice orgasm. Prostate stimulation was not a regular part of my masturbation routine but every once in a while, I really wanted some.

About four days later, I started feeling like I was getting the flu. I had aches, chills, a fever. I assumed it was a virus and decided to wait it out. By the sixth day I was feeling worse than ever. My lower back was really aching. Reluctantly, I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor.

I hadn't been to a doctor in ages and so I was forced to pick a new primary care physician. When I said I had no preference, a newer doctor was assigned to me. It turned out, the guy was about two years younger than me. And pretty cute.

In the course of my exam, one of the things he checked was my prostate. It was a real shame that I was too sick to care when he slid his finger into my ass.

"You have a prostate infection."

Wha?? I had no idea that fingering myself could cause that.

I have to say, it was a little awkward having the doctor question me about ways I might have contracted the infection. I was too embarrassed to admit anything, so he listed the cause as 'unknown.'

Dr. Hot prescribed an anti-biotic and within five days I was cured. Other than keeping my fingers out of my ass, I didn't think about the infection again until years later.

***

Everyone has their favorite body parts, things they notice about a guy or a girl first. Tits, asses, eyes, smiles - those are common ones. I like pecs more than abs, which is unusual. Beautiful eyes often catch my attention. And good hair. Sometimes good hair alone is enough to make me think a guy is hot.

I have plenty of body parts that I would be happy to switch out, as if I was Mr. Potato Head. My hair is one of them. Mousy brown. No natural body or wave. No curl. Thin hair shafts. Of course, we get what we get, so I always made the most of what I had.

In my late 20s Gabbie was kind enough to tell me that my hair was starting to thin. FUCK! NO! I really, really, really didn't want to be bald.

Rogaine was new then and I started using it. It didn't grow any hair but it seemed to keep me from losing more. Eight years or so later, I was holding on to what I had reasonably well. It was a losing battle, but I was having some success in dragging it out. At around 35, a physician friend told me that he actually had new hair grow when he starting taking Propecia. New hair? Sign me up!

The prescription for Propecia (aka Finasteride) is a ONE milligram pill a day. That's a tiny amount. And it takes "up to 6 months" before you see any benefits.

I can vouch for Propecia. It works. But I can also vouch for the very slow progression of severe side-effects it caused me. It killed my sex drive. It took all the pleasure out of sex and orgasms. It made me so anxious that my business has permanently suffered. And it placed me in a mental cocoon where I was apathetic about everything.

Gabbie wasn't happy with the side-effects either. She got really upset because she was entering her sexual prime and I could barely perform. Beside being indifferent to sex, my erections were weak and I stopped getting morning wood. At 38.

All from taking a small pill with 1 milligram of chemicals in it every day. In spite of its tiny size, the pill was far too potent. Too potent to swallow!

A point of reference: one can of Diet Pepsi contains 46 milligrams of caffeine; the empty aluminum can the Diet Pepsi comes in weighs 69,000 milligrams.

Because one of the side effects was an apathetic nonchalance about everything, I didn't care that the pill was ruining my life. It was only after lots of complaining from Gabbie that I cut back to one pill every other day. When I noticed a modest improvement many months later, I started to realize how much the pill was affecting me. I took it every third day for a while, then I eventually stopped taking it completely. In total, I took that nightmare pill for more than five years.

It's taken about three years for me to feel free of its effects, although I still can't say that I feel the same way about sex that I did nine years ago. I have no idea if the pill did permanent damage or if age is a factor. I also wonder about the prostate infection. I have yet to read about any connection between prostate infections and any form of sexual dysfunction, but I still wonder if they could.

My doctor friend who recommended Propecia says that he hasn't suffered any side-effects. Whatever. The Internet is full of guys complaining about Finasteride. My side-effects were especially severe because of how much it changed my personality.

As much as I love good hair, the only thing I can say about Propecia or Finasteride is: stay away from them.

Now that I am out of the influence of the Propecia, my life has gotten more complicated. But not for reasons I would have expected...

2 comments:

  1. Ok -I'll stay away from propecia. So you can have good hair, but no desire to go out in public, or be bald and happy. I guess you can't have your cake and eat it too. I'm amazed at how long it took become free of the effects.

    And that prostate infection is scary. How awkward to have your doc question you.

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  2. As always, you have put so much into your fine post that it is not possible to respond to everything. I have followed you all the way back to your first posts and come forward to this one, in the present, when you are looking back at missing Marc, finding a less satisfying sexual relationship with Will, then settling into a life of no sex with men for 7 years. I suppose we share the same current stasis - It was 4 years ago I stopped an affair with a man that made me feel too dangerously unstable and was making me feel very bad and distant from my wife. And that ending sex with men made sense, as a kind of marital calm and secret masturbation was emotionally so much more stable.

    So now what do you want Cameron. I so project myself into your situation that I hesitate to offer any advice, but isn't this accommodation of ours really untenable in the long run? Perhaps it is best for the children - it was the way I needed to keep focused on my son, not on myself so much, but they do grow up and leave the house and I forecast a real restlessness plus opportunities will come with that next period. Are you in a deliberate holding period? Or can creative masturbation be the way we permanently resolve all this - there are websites out there celebrating and showcasing the joys of it. I have come to that crossroads myself. If I accept I am turned onto guys sexually, one road is to just enjoy the daily sightings and flirtations and embrace this as a part of who I am and then beat the hell out of my cock letting those men into my fantasy life. Some men find this a fine solution. Or, do I risk finding a real man to have sex with, because messy or stupid or dangerous or disappointing as that may be, I must be fulfilled by another man and fulfill him also, or I will not be a complete person.

    You have a lot of wisdom and advice you have shared with me and others. I am just trying to probe you a bit on where you see yourself going, now that you have laid out your own evolution to us, so patiently and honestly, post after post with no feedback for months, driven or focused and methodical in doing this with a clear deep need to tell. I will not believe you are entirely content, or you would likely not have started this blog.

    You have so beautifully and wistfully told us about your past. I can feel some resignation that cannot be the final end point. You knew you were gay when you married Gabbie. You still are. Where is that going to take you? You have total empathy from me. Where the hell do we go from here?

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