Steellover

My dream V-day date...

It's all about Her.  Making Her feel special.  

Whatever Her favorite restaurant is, I'll take her there.  I'll meet Her for lunch, at her work, wherever that is, and take her out.

We'll take a twilight walk up into the hills and watch the sunset. Well, maybe not; there's sleet and freezing rain coming down right now.  Dangit, why did they have to put Valentines Day in the middle of winter? So, when the weather gets better.  Maybe a trip to the hot springs. Well, last time we tried that, it was packed like sardines with couples. Probably not happening either.

We'll stay in then.  Or maybe go out somewhere nice for dinner, then stay in.

Whatever Her favorite movie is, we'll curl up by the fire and watch it together.

Obligatory box of chocolates?  Check.  I'll make sure it's Her favorite flavors.

And when I present it to Her, I'll reaffirm my devotion to Her.

Whatever I can do around the house to help Her, I'll do it.

Then, that night, we'll be intimate. But the details?  That is of course up to Her!. (Nope you don't get a cringe erotic story here. Personal lives are personal!)

But I'd like to think that I'd do these things each and every day for the one whom I feel is that special to me.  Not simply because the calendar says Feb.14th and Hallmark, See's Candys, and every commercial establishment is pressuring me to.  

I know said this last year, but I'll repeat it again:  For those of us without valentines day dates, lets get fucking drunk.

And I'll conclude by saying goodbye and best of luck to Lambsone.  She was always one of the people on the forums, and in these blogs, who I really admired as a classy and wonderful person.  She made her last blog entry earlier today.  I hope she, and every one else here on this journey together, finds what they seek, or at least, that gives them fulfillment and joy.  

Sentimentality and kink.... you either relate to them or you don't. The latter seems to be far more subject to individual preference, and harder for the average person to relate to, and thus I often tend to feel more guilty whenever I post about it.  When I do, it's because I ignore my own rule- don't post when horny.  Maybe I should be punished?  Ah crap there I go... 

Anyway, with that said, this post one be about that. (Promise!) It will be sentimental, about the good times.  Hopefully more people can relate to this one.

About 15, maybe 20 years ago, there was a group of us here in town.  We'd get together at the clubs to watch each other's bands play live.  It was a fun crowd of music fans, artists, and musicians.  I played a little guitar but wasn't in a band, but contributed more as a visual artist and was nonetheless close with that group.  We'd go out on the town, all meet up at the bar, all sit at a table, listen to the music, rock out, socialize, have fun, have some drinks.

But all good things fade away eventually, don't they.  People left the scene, started families, drifted away, or moved away.  The bands we played in stopped playing. COVID and the ensuing lockdowns happened and that pretty much drove the final nail into it.  And now, some of them are leaving this entire plane of existence, moving to the next dimension, where Jesus rocks with all of us old rockers together.  Most of us are not THAT old, all what you would call gen-X/Pre-millennials, but nonetheless I've lost two close friends in the last year, one of them succumbing to the effects of hard drinking and heavy smoking, the other not so much succumbing but rather SURRENDERING to a seemingly insurmountable opioid addiction.

Last weekend, we got together to honor one of our fallen friends.  It was both bittersweet and at the same time, joyous.  It would be a cliche to say he was with us in spirit, and that, as he said, he would have preferred to go out on stage, entertaining us with his music. (and he was certainly far from the first person who has said this, by the way.)  But it was true.  It was like he was there, as we were there for him. His band did a tribute to him, playing his songs, so that they would live on. Guests came up and filled in for him. Two other bands played, one of them being another of his past bands. The guitarist's son even filled in admirably on bass; he's in his mid-20s now; the same age as we were then.

We are all a little older now, most of us a little grayer, a little more heavy-set, and maybe not quite as tirelessly energetic as we were 10, 15 or 20 years ago.  But yet, it was like no time had passed.  We all hung out, rocked out to the music, drank cocktails, sat at the big round tables together, stood around and shared stories, talked music, bands, art, sports, or just shared crazy stories.   Everyone together again, people I hadn't seen, in many cases, since before the isolating horrors of 2020. 

And it was just like those glorious nights long ago.  The veil of loneliness and isolation lifted, being part of a group of communal kindred spirits, for a short while, and all of us missing our fallen friend, who had this wild energy that could lift the mood of a whole room simply by bursting in and exclaiming, "I love you man!"  Reliving the past yet feeling in the moment of the now.  I miss my friends who are gone, but I'm grateful for nights like the other night.   I wish that could happen again as it once did.  The old group, together for one more time. And I hope it's not the last. 

All of us- cherish the ones you love, but also the friends who make your life a little brighter, more fulfilling, positive, and more joyful.

(I haven't written a purely erotic post in a while, so if this is too cringe then I apologize in advance...)  

I will start by saying that everything that took place below, though fictional, was implied to be consensual by all parties involved.

I was in the play space.  It was a safe space, I knew.  But somehow, as I stood there blushing uncontrollably, fidgeting, nervously waiting for I don't know what was to happen next, I wondered how far She would take me.  I stood next to the brick wall, dressed in drag, my little naughty school girl  plaid skirt way too short for my comfort, as beads of sweat began forming under my sweaty blonde wig.  This was a safe space.  A private space, secluded enough-  but I hoped to God nobody else could see me like this. 

My ass still smarted from the flogging She had given me, and the cat-o-nine tails had made my back sting. Flogged to within an inch of using the safe word, tears in my eyes, it almost escaped my lips, but, perhaps sensing my limits, She had stopped.  Then she said simply, "You are ready to be my little whore.  Here's your outfit... put it on, ... and get out there."  I obeyed, relieved at the reprieve but still under Her spell.  "Whatever you want, Mistress!" I said eagerly.

Minutes passed, or perhaps time simply passed more slowly.  Not knowing what to expect or wait for until I heard a whistle. I groaned inwardly as Kyle strode into the courtyard.  He was Her stud.  I had been introduced to him a few sessions ago. I loved that he could satisfy her sexually, but I hoped to satisfy her in other ways. To be a good submissive... and a good little slut.  For Her.

I won't describe what happened next in too much detail. Sub space is like a drug, an intoxicating high, where you find yourself doing things you would never do in a normal head space.  Even my memories are blurred, lost in the rush of adrenaline and the vague thought of what I was really doing.  Let's just say that some money changed hands.  Fifty bucks for a blow, a hundred for a throw, she had said.   I knew She had arranged all of this, so I would not let Her down. Kyle seemed oddly satisfied too. "Thanks, you fucking ugly ho," he said, after I had finished with him.  He pulled up his pants, then reached up under my tiny skirt and grabbed my behind, before sauntering away.

More time passed. How long, I don't know.  I waited for Her there, as instructed. After a long while She appeared. Only, She wasn't dressed as she had been earlier, in that leather skirt that had made me such a submissive toy merely to see her wearing it.  Now, she had cowboy boots, loose-fitting jeans, a loose-fitting Philadelphia Eagles jersey,  and her hair was pulled back under a baseball cap.  Like a typical bro, with one exception. 

She was wielding a harness with a long strap on.  

She approached me.  "I wanna fuck you up the ass bitch." She said.  "How much?"

"F-f-uh... I mean, uh, one hundred for a fling...."  

"I'll give you fifty" she said.  I didn't argue with Her; that would be a bad idea.

"Kneel and suck it!" She barked.  "I see you've already been used.  You got cum on your face.  Now I'll show you how a real woman takes it!" 

I knelt in front of Her, sucking her large strap on for several minutes.  "You're a real pro at that!  Now I'm hard and horny!" She said, in a fake-deep voice. Seemingly satisfied, she ordered me to turn around.  "Now bend over!" She said, in the same deep fake-man voice.

I obeyed instantly, knowing what was coming.  She lubed up, then roughly pulled my pink panties down.  I felt it probing me gently, then felt the familiar tearing and pulling as it forced it's way into me.  I began to moan as the full length pushed further and further in. It filled me, stretched me, splitting me. I even felt sudden pressure on my bladder as she finally got the full length of it inside me. She began to rock, gently, than progressively harder. In my mind, I was somewhere else. Neither bliss nor pain, watching almost detached as She took me from behind, violating me.  I began to moan, which prompted her to smack me, so I tried to keep silent. I could almost feel her smiling, twitching, and hoping that She was getting off on Her end. She finally began to moan herself, as the thrusting rhythm I felt, as she rocked against my raised buttocks, reached a crescendo.....

.....back inside, I am kneeling in front of her, nose to her cowboy boots, wanting to touch them, basking in Her power and beauty, even dressed as She was. Like a "John." Only now, she wasn't the "john" but rather, she was now the pimp.  She had donned some faux gold chains after she had momentarily gone into the other room.  "You, bitch, gimme my money!" She said, and not at all playfully. Reaching into my socks, I handed her the $100, both the fifty she had given me, and the fifty I had received from Kyle earlier on.

"That's not all of it. Where's the rest? It was a fifty for a blow, a hundred for a throw!  You only gave me a hundred! Where's the rest of it!"

"But but, you said..."

"GIMME MY MONEY, bitch!" She said, slapping me across the face.  Stammering, I crawled over to where my street clothes lay piled in the corner, reached into my wallet, and gave her fifty dollars.

..... So, that's about it.  I hope this short story wasn't offensive or cringey.  Keep in mind that all of the fictional events described above were CONSENSUAL.  I do not condone forced prostitution or any form of human trafficking.  Rather, I just thought this would be an interesting play scenario.

It's the worst feeling.  Someone's mad at you, but you have no idea why, or what you did, and they won't ever tell you.

The thing is, I genuinely try not to step on anyone's toes. I try to be respectful and kind to everyone. Especially on this site. The only times I am ever not, is when someone says something that offends me or my core values- but in those instances, I will explicitly tell them why it was offensive or against my core values.  I don't like being passive aggressive.

So, the deal was... I was reading a blog post yesterday, from a regular blogger on here. I enjoy reading what other people post as much, sometimes more, than posting my own crap.  Because I don't want any personal drama to spill over onto here (and because it's probably against the rules anyway) I can't say who it was.  All I know is, I read a blog post they wrote and really connected with it- in a positive way. I wanted to leave a comment to let them know I appreciated it.  

The text window woudln't pop up. I couldn't figure out why. 

Then I tried to at least "Like" (Heart) the post- but it was disabled.  What was going on?  Some site glitch?

So then I thought, okay, well at least I will send them a D.M.  A message popped up, "You are blocked from contacting...(name of member.)" 

huh, WHAT?

The thing is, I don't remember any sort of negative interaction with this person at all, at any time.  Either on the forums or in a blog post- ever.   I have never contacted them in any fashion, nor have they contacted me.  It wasn't a "Rejection" thing because we are seeking the opposite thing anyway; I would never have a reason to approach them for a "Hey lets hook up" thing in the first place. I know sometimes disagreements erupt on the forums but I strive to avoid taking part in these kind of contentious topics- and certainly never got into it with this person.

So.... what did I do??  

I obviously must have struck a nerve but clearly didn't mean to. Whatever it was, if that person is reading this, then I am sorry if I somehow offended you, or said or did the wrong thing.  

I know there are some people who say "Well, it isn't your buisness what other people think of you" but I never agreed with that.  What other people think of you is a reflection of how you treat them, or how what you do and say affects them.  Unless you want to go through life saying "F$%^K it, I don't care if everyone thinks I'm a douche nozzle." In which case, you will probably end up being one. And I strive to be a better person than that.

And again, to the person who blocked me, I apologize for whatever it was that I did or said that got me blocked.  I hope it is okay if I still read your blog, because you are a great writer and you say some inspiring things.

So, I'll end this with a MUSIC CORNER:

The best way to honor a fallen comrade would be to share his music with all you people.  

Caustic Resin was a band that combined shoegaze pop with hard rock and a heavy, fuzzed out noise that washes over you with heavy psychadelic sounds.  So here, let this wash over you and take you away.  Bassist Tommy "Dirtweed" Romich passed away a couple weeks ago (upper left in band photo) so hopefully his music will live on.

In the last couple years or so, I have lost a number of close friends and family and it's been brutal.  The memories of spending time with these people,and the good times we had, just leaves an emptiness in me when I realize they're gone.  All I hope is that they are happy in the next dimension where we can be reunited.  I lost another friend, who was slightly older than I was, who played in local bands, was the life of the party but who would give you the shirt off his back and didn't have a mean bone in his body.  Other than, he was an alcoholic who occasionally over did it and did sometimes become a bit obnoxious.  And like so many others, it caught up to him.  I made a promise that this column wouldn't be always about sadness and loss. I loved this guy- miss him, but I don't want to constantly dwell on loss and sadness. I promised to try not to. 

So with that said, this isn't about that.

This is, instead, about... the mid/late 1990s.

It was a good time for me. Just out of college and everything was about partying and fun, being free-spirited, not being tied down with a serious job, a house or baggage. I'd get anxious sometimes thinking about the future but in the end it did all work out. It was about this time that I got my first real white collar office job, even though I was still a low paid "Grunt" office worker.  Much like the "Office Space" guy (which came out right before the end of the '90s.)

So... some other mid/late 90's memories:

"I Just Wanna Fly.  Put your arms around me baby, put your arms around me baby..."

"Livin' La Vida Loca." For a brief time, this song embodied everything about the summer of 1998.

"Beavis and Butthead."  huh huh.  Classic X-files. That silly Power Rangers kid show.  MTV still playing music, even if most of it was stuff I found boring like Boys II Men and TLC.

There was no social media, no cell phones.  You could connect with strangers on a face to face level, and more of your connections seemed deeper and less superficial. You could smile at people on the street and they'd smile back.  People plugged into the moment, into the world around them, rather than what was on some hand-held screen.

There was less hate, and less push-back against tolerance, respect and love.  While this darkness was always there, it was more deeply underground and more universally shunned rather than embraced.

The Denver Broncos were the NFL team to beat.  Along with Brett Favre and the Packers, and Troy Aikman and Emmett Smith and the Cowboys.  The Commanders weren't called that yet, and I don't think the Texans, Jaguars, Panthers, or Titans even existed yet (or not until the late 1990s at least.)

Seattle still had an NBA team.

Windows 95, Dial up modems, Shiny AOL promotional CD-Roms arriving in the mail at the frequency of maybe 2 per week. Some people even collected those.  "You've Got Mail!" Ha ha.

"Heeeeeyyyyy Macarena!"

Jim Carrey.

Blockbuster video.  "American Pie."  "Forrest Gump."  "The Phantom Menace" dissappointing long-time Sci-fi Fans.  "The Matrix" satisfying long time sci-fi fans.

Lollapallooza, and later, the Vans Warped Tour.

So that's all I got, for now.  I could go on but... hopefully some of you have memories of that era as well. I know it was a cliche to think it was a simpler time, but it was one of the happiest times in my life, and it's fun to look back on the good times.

Over the years, I've listened to tons of bands, and had many favorites over the years. Though, after much thought, I'd probably have to admit, sometimes grudgingly, that my favorite band of all time would have to be Metallica.  

Any band with as long a career, and as extensive a discography as Metallica will naturally create a wide variety of music over the years.  So with that said, some of it clicks with me more than others.  I've rated all eleven of their studio albums here, from my favorite to least favorite.  The point of all of this is to inspire discussion.  Most people know this band, some of you hate everything they've ever done, some love the albums I dislike, and vice versa. Let me know your thoughts! I've limited it to strictly full length studio albums though, not EP's or live albums.  With that said:

1) "Master of Puppets."  Their best in my opinion.  Every song on this just kills, and the production is the right level of "Grit" to capture the aggression, passion and intensity while showing off their playing skills. This is the band at their peak.

2) "Kill Em All."  I sometimes fluctuate between which of the first three are my top favorite. It's a fine line, because really all three together are close and it depends on my mood.  At the time this was released, the band was the absolute cutting edge, next level stuff, and still underground. There was, as I recall, a cult, underground, dangerous, subversive energy around this album when it came to light- too gnarly to be played on the radio, and faster, heavier and darker than most metal at the time. Though it sounds tame compared to some of the underground metal that came out in the years following it.  I love the youthful energy and passion here.

3) "Ride the Lightning."  Again, cutting edge, re-invention of metal, a genre-defining and landmark record in every way.  There were bands that played faster, bands that were more abrasive, and bands that might have had more musical chops, but at the time, nobody combined all three of these elements in the state-of-the-art way that Metallica did here.  It has far more dynamic variation than the debut, with totally gnarly thrash tracks ("Fight Fire with Fire" and "Creeping Death"), dark, brooding heavy tracks ("For Whom the Bell Tolls") and powerful melodic tracks ("....Cthulu", and "Fade to Black.")  The only reason  I rated this lower than the other two is "Escape" is probably the weakest track on the first three albums, yet it is still a great track (go figure.) Interestingly, "Escape" seemed to set the template for a lot of their 90's material, only here, they still had the grit and intensity that similar tracks on, say, the "Load" sessions, do not have.

4) "Death Magnetic."  This album is really varied, combining the thrashy, gnarly dynamics of their first three albums with the more mainstream sensibilities of the 90's stuff, and the labyrinthine riff-fests of "And Justice for All."  Which is why I like it.  Almost every song on here is a keeper; there are really only one or two weaker tracks.  Had it come out after "Justice" I think it would have been much more well received.  To me this was sort of a "Come back" album that rejuvenated their career in the 2000's; the one that all those fans who thought "Metallica sucked after And Justice For All" were waiting for.

5) "72 Seasons." Yes, the "new" album.  I thought they did a good job with this one, with a lot of great, heavy tracks and plenty of great riffs throughout. "Lux Eternal" almost sounds like a "Kill Em All" track.  However, it's not as consistent as "Death Magnetic" though; and as a result it kind of drags at times.

6) "And Justice for All."  I was a bit disappointed with this one after "Master of Puppets," but it's not a bad album at all.   Two main complaints here:  It suffered drastically in the final mix- a result of Lars Ulrich being not entirely comfortable with then-new bass player Jason Newstead's contributions at the time.  Also, too many songs are built on long-winded, mid-paced overly complex riff fests that drag on and get tiresome after a while.  Case in point being the title track.  It's good but... the previous three were better.

7) "Hardwired to Self Destruct."  There are a few great songs on here, but there's also a lot of filler, and I've always thought that if the band had culled some of the filler and compiled the two-discs worth of material into a single disc comprising the better tracks, they would have been better off- and I might have rated this one higher.  As it is, like "Justice" and "72 seasons," it kind of drags at times.

8) "Garage Inc."  I wasn't gonna include this one because it's really just a "Covers" album and not their original music, but they did a good job with some of the tracks on here and it is occasionally a fun listen.  "Turn the Page" however is overplayed.  Its the Sabbath, Discharge, Misfits and Diamond Head covers that really carry this.

9) 1991 self titled, aka the "Black Album."  This, to me, sounded like Metallica cashing in and selling out, compromising their sound.  Granted, they deserved that brass ring so I don't begrudge them for making this.  It always just sounded too polished and tame to me.  It's a good hard rock/metal album though with plenty of iconic songs, and I can't really say it's a "Bad" album, just- it's not my favorite by them, by a long shot. 90's era Metallica was, in general, very conservative, musically speaking.

10) "Re-Load." Recorded the same time as "Load" but released a year later, this one has a slightly better collection of songs overall, in my opinion, with "Fuel" and "Memory Remains" being my personal favorites here. It's a good heavy rock album, fitting for the 90's when metal was pretty much passe anyway, but this was never really their strength.

11) "Load."  Similar to "Re-Load," it's a basic rock n' roll record, decent for what it is, but very, very "vanilla."  And, as you would guess based on my participation in a BDSM-themed blog, "Vanilla" is too bland for my tastes.  So is this album.

12) "Saint Anger."  I appreciate what they were going for here, but the results don't really add up.  This sounds like it was just thrown together slap-dash and everything about it sounds half-assed:  The songwriting, structuring, lyrics, lack of memorable solos, and the horribly botched production values.  I like the idea of going back to their aggressive roots and letting this album basically be their version of venting out their frustration.  But the songs just sounded under-developed, the lyrics made up on the spot, and the production- there is a difference between raw, unpolished production and horribly botched production- and this was just plain botched.  In short, "Saint Anger" sounds like it was simply rushed- it needed more work.

13) "LuLu." I almost didn't include this one because it's really more of a Lou Reed album FEATURING Metallica, than a proper Metallica album.  To summarize:  I liked Lou Reed better with the Velvet Underground, and I like Metallica better without Lou Reed.  This just sounds like a half-crazed and somewhat creepy old man rambling on about nonsense, backed by some of the most uninspired and bland Metallica riffing of their entire career.  Overall it just didn't work for me. 

I almost included "S&M" and the follow-up "S&M2" because, nothing would be more appropriate for this blog than S&M, right?  Well, I didn't because, these are basically live albums and this post is already getting to the toolong/didnt read length as it is.  Basically I thought it was an interesting concept but the results sounded a bit too slick and rather pretentious to me.

So there you have it!  Comments welcome below, and if you hate everything related to Metallica, then that's fine too! 

I am starting to see them more and more.  The first time I saw one of these mobile neo-cubist abstract sculptures, I didn't know if it was a randomly folded pile of sheet metal, a rolling dumpster, or some joke put together by some sixth grader who took his little brother's cartoon drawing of a car, and decided to build the thing out of scrap metal lying around.  "What the heck is that folded rolling pile of crap?" I exclaimed after seeing one, for the first time, on the street last summer.

"Oh, it's the new Tesla Cybertruck." my buddy replied.

"Wait.... wait you mean it's actually SUPPOSED to look like that?  They are actually mass producing copies of that ridiculous thing?" I asked.

"Well, look at it this way... maybe they built it so that Pontiak Aztek, Nissan Frog,(Juke) and BMW I3 owners wouldn't feel so self conscious," he replied.

So now I'm seeing more and more of these wretched looking eyesores.  A rolling joke, that makes you want to just throw rocks at it. I admit, with more and more cars looking alike, these things do look distinctive.  Obviously not in a good way.

When I visited family over the holidays, I saw a crap ton of these things on the road. Luckily I did not throw rocks at them.  But I did cringe inwardly when I saw one.  And I only saw two Mercedes "Cats" the entire time.  That made me sad.  Mercedes "Cats" make me smile, and feel warm and fuzzy, because the cars look like warm, fuzzy critters.  But lets face it, there just aren't that many of them still running after all these years. Instead, we get rolling dumpsters that look like big piles of randomly folded sheet metal.

Now, to all those Cybertruck owners out there, I apologize- I can understand there are valid reasons for owning one. Yes, they are very safe. You don't have to buy gas, better for your wallet and for the planet.  They have all the latest high-tech googads and gismets.  And unless your neighbor has one, you will have the distinction of owning a vehicle that looks nothing like anyone else's on the block.  But to each their own.  I obviously would never buy one.  If anyone out there has an old 1976-1985 Mercedes "Cat" in their garage, let me know.

Ahhh, December. 

The joys and lights of the holidays.

Seeing family and friends.

Busting my tail to get things done that I need to before Christmas.

(Maybe a kinky fantasy or two.  Both naughty and nice.)

And... Death Fog.

It creeps in overnight. You wake up one morning and it's here: This greyish white shroud that covers everything, blocking out the sun, reducing visibility to as little as half a block.  Dreary, depressing days made even drearier and more depressing by the endless, socked-in feeling.  

Go to work in the dark. Come home in the dark.  Sometimes the only time you see the sun is when you go for a walk at lunch to get food.  But once the Death Fog rolls in, you don't even get that.

Sometimes it stinks, literally.  The sugar beet factory is about 16 miles in a straight line from here but yet, occasionally during a death fog spell, you can smell it all the way over here. It smells like burning sugar beets.  There is no other way to describe it other than a rank, somewhat sweet, organic smell.

The weather nurdz will say "When a high pressure system creates an inversion layer, trapping cold, moist air in the valley, the fog and cold will linger." Blah blah blah; but they are right about one thing; often it will be sunny (And warmer) when you get up high into the mountains.  And you look down at the death fog covered valley, it's like looking out over the ocean.  Somewhere underneath that grey ocean is the city.  

But right now I'm stuck in it, while I finish all my Christmas errands. Maybe if I get everything done  tomorrow I'll head up and out of the death fog, if only for a short while.

Maybe that's why the holiday season is in December, because otherwise it would be pretty grim.

So this blog is about... BURP!

Allright, so with that out of the way... On to all seriousness. 

(Hey man don't blame me, sometimes that works for people.)

I know all too well the disadvantages of being a submissive male.  I won't waste time with that or dwell on it here.  But I hope I can convey the positives. This won't be about kink by the way- yes I do enjoy kink but that's not the point of this post.

Being submissive means being, not only attentive to your partner's needs, but when your partner directs you, and commands you, it helps you to better know how to please them- and thus, the happier and more satisfied they will be.  Teach me, tell me what to do Mistress- and I will obey.  Were I dominant, I might make wrong assumptions and do everything wrong, leaving you unsatisfied, at best.

It means, taking an extra time to be thoughtful.

It means, being open to learning things (all kinds of things- insights, health tips, ways to solve math problems, new musical scales, philosophy and history) from my partner.

It means I can openly adore and worship my partner, even kneel at her feet and clean her boots, without her considering it cringy.  Because it is an expression of love.

Even when receiving corporal punishment for a thoughtless mistake, it is still an expression of love.

Maybe I was always a bit shy around girls. Never know what to say, or the best way to approach them.  Let her make the first move, and there can be no misunderstanding.  Maybe I saw too many guys screw up by being too aggressive, or simply not communicate with their partner properly to meet her needs.  Maybe that's why I prefer she communicate to me exactly what to do.  

And maybe, it is because I believe it is better to give than to receive, and therefore take more satisfaction in my partner's pleasure than in my own.

And maybe I'm wrong about all of it, and just a confused guy trying to submit to life's experiences for better or worse.

So there is this guy, Nomba Tu, who I've been watching on TV a lot on weekends.  Okay maybe that's not really his name, but when you see him run into a pile of bodies wearing a shirt with a big "2" on it, that sort of becomes his identity.  So this isn't a post about "Taking a number two-"  this post is, if you haven't guessed, about.... College football.  

Because a lot of people watch it, but you don't read many posts about it.  Okay, I take it back; actually you do, so I'll be fair and keep this one brief, because probably a lot of people don't want to read about college football on a Cage blog.  I realize there are too many boring columns about that stuff already, but I promise I'll try and make this more unique than all the rest of them.

So anyway, Nomba Tu plays for our local college football team.  In the first few games this season, Nomba Tu was nearly unstoppable.  They'd give him the ball, and he'd be halfway across the field before the other team even realized what was happening, and would be at least three quarters of the way to the end zone by the time they dragged him to the ground- and he'd go down dragging at least three or four defenders with him.  It was, to say the least, fun to watch; the dude was putting up video game like numbers- six touchdowns the first game (breaking a school record) and at least four per game over the next few weeks.  It was like watching some guy play "Madden NFL" with full cheat codes enabled while playing against the "Easy" setting.

But then, as the season wore on, teams started figuring out that if you put all 11 defenders at the front of the line, and have them all charge at Nomba Tu at once, suddenly those plays didn't work so well.  Instead of like 30 yards per carry, Nomba Tu would only gain maybe one or two (though once in a long while, he'd still break one for like twenty or thirty.)  And the coaches kept getting more and more stubborn, calling the most clever play imaginable:  Give the ball to Tu, have him run straight into a wall of bodies, ("Let the bodies hit the floor!") and gain a whopping one yard.  "Even I coulda done that!"  We'd say to each other, exasperated, while watching the game.  You'd think the coaches would get creative and have Tu run to the outside on some kind of jet sweep, or have our quarterback, Numbeur Phorr, just throw passes instead, but nope; for one, Phorr really isn't a very accurate passer, and the receivers just aren't that good at catching his off-target passes.  And also, well, the coaches don't seem to like running plays that go anywhere but straight into the pile of bodies.

So naturally, by now, poor Nomba Tu is pretty banged up.  YOU try running into a pile of bodies over and over again and see how you feel after ten weeks of it.  They say this dude might get the Heisman trophy, possibly beating out some guy from Colorado, Bydan S. Hunter or whatever that guys name is (Can't remember for sure.)  And I admire Nomba Tu's willingness to sacrifice himself for it, but the problem I have is- I see him merely as a pawn being moved around the board by a less than skilled player.  Or (since this is a Cage.co blog) a hapless submissive being manipulated by a careless and clueless dominant.  Great coaches know how to get the best from their players, to build teams who are altogether greater than the sum of their parts- just like great chess players don't just rely on the Queen but know how to use every piece in their arsenal.  Numba Tu is basically THE team right now- and as banged up as he is, without a supporting cast and a coach who knows how to use them, I fear he is doomed ultimately to disappoint his fans by running into one too many piles of bodies.  So that's all I got for now.  

Happy Thanksgiving, and may your favorite teams win!  By the way I never understood why the Cowboys and Lions are always the designated "Thanksgiving Teams" but some football traditions defy explanation and that's how it is.