The Belly

Noticing that people look down on and pick apart most if not all subjects that address a man getting satisfaction, happiness, contentment, or physical release. I think it’s because a man who is horny and distracted makes for the best customer. It’s bad for any business if a man is clear headed with a shut wallet. I’ve seen boobs, makeup and ass used to market cars, houses, burgers. And 86 cents of every consumer dollar is spent by women. So on the money side, it makes sense to keep me starved for emotional connection and sexual release. That’s what is best for social businesses. 

Just facts: I’m a high value man. 6 figures. Veteran. Single father. Clean background. Upon showing up, make eye contact, pay for the date and speak my mind. I want to have more positive experiences. 

lo and behold, I talk to 7 women through regular means. None are emotionally available or sexually up front. Open my phone and there are thousands of escorts, hookers, onlyfans girls, strippers etc etc.

I can’t help but think that with 50 billion a year spent on makeup, cosmetics and surgeries to enhance sexual Appeal, could be more of a reason for the objectification of women. Instead of just men egging things on. 

tracking expenses: 

Regular dating and apps in a 6 month period: 

cost $3200

Result: mental health at risk, messy house, trust issues, lack of sleep, ladies show up late and time water. 

Escorts and porn stars in a 6 month period

cost $2500

Result. Even sleep schedule. On time companionship. With physical needs met, my brain calmed down. Twice a week, a half naked woman cleaned my house, cooked a nice meal, and deepthroated me to sleep before leaving. 
In addition the talk up was easier. I was asked for a std and background check. We talked politics and fun events. Went to some concerts with a hot date. It felt good to feel good. 

With a looming 60 percent divorce rate. I don’t think I’ll ever again try to date or take a sub if it’s on me to provide and entertain. 

I don’t have any “advice” or theories about everyone, just my personal experience. I’m feeling used, ignored, at risk, and degraded every time I try to date an American woman. Every time I have shared this, women point out what I could have done wrong. I think…..I think choosing to pursue American women is the root of the problem. Current divorce statistics support this, as does the fact that more and more men are outright leaving the country forever. 

I no longer want to be happy with someone. I just want to be at peace. Or talking business. I want my moneys worth. 

Short Answer: I’m not into it.

Long story: A previous sub was way too pushy about a scene that I just don’t have any interest in. The debate started out an oven baked dinner and turned into a bonfire. I noticed she was stepping out of the submissive role to be vindictive and engage me in my insecurities rather than just let things go. I just wanted to relax, maybe a little kink. But fair warning, brats probably should steer clear of veterans and southern gentlemen. I’m just not built for that bullshit. 

It has been jarring to be around so many civilians who are interpersonal disconnected but will choose personal slights as a medium to convey happenstance interest. 

Instead of continuing down the road of scenes vs opinions. I just spilled it. 

I don’t like food play because on my 1st deployment to Iraq, while on guard duty, our breakfast meetup was ambushed. On gate guard duty. There is a road that leads from Basra (main city in south Iraq) into the main Basra Airbase.

***Her: Can’t we just try it a few times and see it you like it specifically with me? 

Me: Yeah…negative on that ghost rider. 

And so…I told her the truth. the deep dark truth about my fear of pancakes.

………To the left of the main entrance was our guard shack and entry point. Our first shipment of organic coffee, pancakes and REAL eggs just came in. Way better than the yellow powder crack cocaine that they mix with water and fry with canola oil. 

For 2 months, we have been eating MREs and bagged meat with labels that said “For Army and Prison Use Only.”

0700 am, since rotation was earlier today. We usually skip breakfast and have it brought to us. Today they just brought down a pallet of all the goodies 

0715. packs are dropped coffee is laid out. In this order from the road, adjacent to the gate, between me and the outside world, there is a brick wall, a few Jersey barriers, a Kevlar window plate wall, then the concrete south facing wall, then stacks and rows of breakfast inventory for us to ration and cook with for the weekend rotation. 

0730. Five armed assailants fire armor piercing rounds about 100 feet from the gate. While seated cleaning my weapon, everything around me suddenly bursts with the shining colors of eggs, coffee and pancakes.

Whipped honey syrup fills my boots as it oozes along the floor. All my power cords (very hard to get), socks, and laptop are done for. I feel hot coffee be cooled by the syrup as it soaks into my combat boots and squishes between my toes. 

In less than 10 seconds, a quarter of the southeast building corner has been sheared away. The whole shed is flooded. And these guys are still shooting.

I hear the teams outside engaging. 
2 more enemy trucks arrive. Once they started shooting. The southwest corner was hit. this is where all the juice and fruit was. It went exactly as you fear.

bullets ripped through the juice boxes and tipped over the cleaning closet in front of the weapons rack. 
thompsons m4 has a cracked scope and twisted trigger guard, plus it’s soaked in grapefruit juice and syrup. The smell of pinesol fills the room as two full containers are ripped apart and spew pine scented radioactive waste all over me, my bunk and two guys behind me. damn near blinds me. I toss Thompson my rifle as I puke into my duffle bag. I take out two Capri subs from my bag and blindly squeeze to wash my eyes out.

Eyes cleared. Teeth grit. Im stressed, I'm hungry and if I'm going to be 100 percent real here, these boots were brand fucking new. Like fresh out the box, steel toe, Blackhawk boots. Size 10.5 in summer, 11 in winter with the double up sock combo.

These things were so fresh, I was getting phone numbers in church. PREACH. 
Anyway, the feeling of bacon grease, eggs, oil, coffee, and syrup just weirded me out of being shocked or scared by the bullets. 
Grossed out + adrenaline + Army training = I am peeved. Borderline unreasonable. 

Brandon (that’s his real last name) takes one in the shoulder. My boss is running to the back to the radio station. The assailants outside are not moving up. They are just continuing to shoot.
I just let myself cry. 

0736. I half stumble, half bear crawl to Thompson’s rack. He has a gallon of water. I wash my eyes and face with it. Mother fucker has pre workout powder in it. 
Jackd pre work out is some serious stuff. Im amped, crying and brushing my teeth with my left, I grab a 9 mil off the rack, load it and fire back through the open wall. Once empty. I fall down into Thompson’s bag rack and look for pants, shirt and socks. I put on his boots too. We break for the east facing window and grab our helmets and vests. 

For a reference point. This shed is filled with 15 young American men. All orphaned warriors, horny, 10 thousand miles from family, haven’t eaten breakfast, are all armed to the teeth, and have just been blinded with pinesol and Jackd preworkout. I was not the only one who needed to washout with the preworkout.

Once outside. We were not…interested in peaceful solutions.

Anyway, this is why I don’t like food play, feet play, alcohol, poppers, and as of today I have no guns in my house anymore. 
……..

Back to the future, Bratty sub 27 has her mouth open and just lays with me on the couch while we watch Love Death Robots. We saw each other 2 more times then she ghosted. 
it’s cold. I’m going to trade some stocks and play some xbox. 

Culture Shock - Iraq, Germany, Canada, NY, CO, FL, MI, PA, WA, AZ

Living a successful life is the best revenge. 

Note that I said successful, not wealthy, high, enriched, safe, adventurous, or exciting. 

I'm 34, at the end of a rough 18-month military-to-civilian transition. Having recently returned to American life and the culture shock is still throwing me off. The case has been publically released so I can talk about how my company knowingly left us out to dry while our base was being bombed. 

Putting the pieces together about the attack has not only been traumatic, but it is also affecting how I invest energy into relationships and dynamics. 

However, these recent times have exposed those who would only use me or are not suited for someone as intense or aware as myself and my family. 

When my mother gave birth to me, she was 20 in the United States Marine Corps. In the middle of her first tour at MCRD in San Diego. So, as you may have guessed, my childhood was full of humor, free time, and carefree days.

After years apart, mainly to military service, I felt a shiver over the echoing seas. In that ensuing fever, I called my mother and asked her to live with me as I healed and tried to reintegrate back into society. I am noticing whole generations of people trained to lie and mislead one another into situations and circumstances. Rather than just express themselves, their core needs, and their ability to satisfy the same in others. 

They seem to be obsessed with being a hero or main character in a story where they are connected to the universe, and that energy can refill their inner peace. So long as they drive like Vin Diesel, don't save, binge watch, and let go of the basic standards in self-care, diet, and exercise. 

When my depression was at its worst in Iraq, I force-fed myself, dragged myself to the gym, attacked and fought my friends (they returned the favor during their swings. Death, violence, and heat made a potent mix that forced us to see the value in simple barter trades, honor, respect, basic hygiene, timeliness, team management, time management, and self-care. It is jarring and disorienting to digest, process, and uses everything that has come out to light in America since I've been gone.

When I left America, Chadwick Boseman was alive, Bill Cosby was an innocent man, Elmo was safe to show kids, Onlyfans didn't exist, Black Lives Matter was a myth...not an organization or movement that people can't agree on...a myth. There were no documentaries or mass-released statistics databases on ADOS, the industrial prison system, or the war on drugs. There were bits and pieces but never to this extent. 

Everything is brand new to me. Apps, food, dating practices, COVID procedures, vaccines, mass hysteria, social media obsessions, "goals", and how people (kids to parents, men to women, women to men, political parties, sports teams) address each other. Not to sound like an old man, but sports shows (I timed it).....in a one-hour ESPN special. A total of 8 minutes of highlights. 38 minutes of "professional" opinions (most around sports politics and celebrity athlete personalities). 5 minutes of personal opinions on performance and stats.......and the rest were commercials and jokes. 

I almost threw up. For most, it's always been like this, or it's the norm. I watch the seeping lethargy and tendency to procrastinate infect and divert the attention of almost every submissive and slave I have met in the last year. 

I'm not breaking down or looking down upon what people want. Just reviewing the logistics of what people put in vs what they put out. 

We should all actively try to be the best version of ourselves mentally, physically, and emotionally. Not for a cause, challenge, fad, crush, or fleeting confidence in which season is best to show skin. Rather, we should do it for ourselves. The only human civilization in the known galaxy. For our planet, future, air/water/food quality, and our civilization.

I think I'll just play some Xbox. I met a very nice submissive group from a yoga meet. One has a dom who isn't...up to par. Another plays zombies on Xbox. We have an understanding from the third lady being our referee since she just coming back into the professional world and me just exiting it. 

We go to rope sessions, babysit each other kids, drive each other's mothers to appointments, and lend money or a place to stay when needed. We are actually in each other's lives with boundaries and a sense of community. I think I'll stay under this wilting apple tree for a spell. 

My friend 5-year-old just got busted for doing makeup challenges on TikTok. Going through those videos of hundreds of thousands of concerned parents and family members reaching out to their "independent" sons and daughters was a heart pull but to each their own. My mother notes that there are women all over Phoenix with makeup literally melting off their faces. I don't know if I should applaud the effort or tell them 90 percent of the men I know don't like makeup. How it smells, looks or tastes. Just a good skincare routine and some moisturizers are what you need to survive the desert. 

I'm going to surf around, striking up convo and interest in those I'm compatible with. Really liking these astrology apps backed with algorithms and census data. 

It's officially been 18 months since my transition to civilian life. Jan 2020 was the attack. I moved to Colorado in May 2020. 

I have made mistakes, burned some bridges, and formed a tight circle that's honestly keeping a lot of bullshit out of my life. 

Currently, I live with my mother and am the babysitting uncle for some hotel owners. 

A year ago, I had a high-rise apartment in Toronto, a brand new black Mercedes, and 200 grand in my bank account. That life required that I deploy to the Middle East 8 months out of the year. I remember after Vince and Zach died, I just wanted to keep deploying.

With different eyes now, I remember Maria, the previous sub, begging me not to go back. She pulled out all the stops...called a friend or two of hers to the apartment. Had my car detailed then she paid for an extension on my rental car. Stocked the fridge with snacks and wrote me a letter. 

It's just that Iran had hit my base with missiles. The worst attack in history for a US base stationed in Iraq. It was a calling. The challenge of my life was there. My family's future and my own legacy. Could I have stopped? Just for happiness? While sacrificing standing alongside the few and proud to give their lives and energy toward this nation and its people, not its politics. Sorry, not sorry.

Finding submissives, when I was rich, was an easy enough task. With everything going on, I experienced the ocean of misconceptions and greedy tendencies that come with those born in the age of consumerism and social media. This experience allowed me to see that most women didn't care about trapping me in a monogamous relationship.

I was a contractor on orders to deploy. I have a vasectomy. Not exactly the smoothest of talkers. BUT...I was paying bills, babysitting my sub's kids + her neighbor's kids, putting their little brother through college, going to their anger management and life coach classes when the "boyfriend" canceled last minute, paid for a stepfather's hip replacement (that was a good weekend). It is this network of subs and friends who came back to me during COVID after I got blown up. Even when I was distracted and in the wind. Even when I had my fevers. 

____________________________

When you read this, thank you for...

Sticking by me. Traveling to see me. Making food when I had shrapnel in my knee and back. Driving me to my appointments. Thank you for patiently waiting out my flings and relationship mishaps. Buying my weed when I didn't have time to get currency exchanged. Taking my mother to get her nails done. Giving me deep tissue massages. Explaining the new versions of emotional intelligence. For the birthday presents. For inviting me to Costa Rica with your family. For riding my dick in the back of the Benz right after I lost my job. For getting my motorcycle towed. For the strippers and carriage rides on Christmas morning. For the cigars stuffed with weed and live resin...needed those after the surgery. 

----

I had a dream where the government bought a whole city and placed only my friends and our exes in it. Then built a dome around it, dropped in weapons, and laced the air with truth serum mist. Most of my friends died. But the few of us who remained went on to live on like regular people. We shopped, ate, and fucked with who we liked and truly enjoyed. Then the red alert came. Uncle Sam wants us to be a self-contained mixed unit that self-sustains ourselves through our individual identities, mental and physical needs. Then I woke up. Now I'm having coffee. at 1615 in the afternoon. 

HSV2+ as of last month. No symptoms and on treatment.

The same guy, just with a daily blue pill...that isn't Viagra. 

First started in kink during my Army tour in Germany. Now, I've officially been a civilian for a year. Got the house (no roommates or pets), car, business, and Harley. I guess a part of me thought a submissive would appear from the depths of my accomplishments. Wishful thinking, but you never know. 

I went back over the advice of all my mentors about "getting/being ready," preparing for the future, staying open to new possibilities, while solidifying my foundation to support and guide. They were talking about marriage, I was talking about my romantic life in general.

I completed all my milestones and am now focusing my time on BDSM. Weird time, I know. I set this plan in motion when I realized that time was the only thing people wasted, complained about not having, then stole from others without any consideration. So instead of a backhanded dive into distractions, I decided to sit down with this. Reached out to friends, went online, had Tinder, browsed the Cage. Had some fun and a couple of good runs, and I'm choosing not to go down the negative thought route. I am looking for who is going to be mine. 

I have my shit together...is what I tell myself to just get through. I focus on the basics and proper breathing. I worked my way up from nothing and I want a woman who likes, appreciates, and supports that part of me, in and out of the bedroom. I will do the same in kind. 

Not for a night before you run back to your ex. Not for a week before your schedule gets "crazy." If your life is in shambles, stay away from me. I have learned that if someone's life circumstances are inconsistent, most likely, so are they. 

_____

If you're reading this, and you're a submissive with her shit together, good posture, and takes care of herself...I'm waiting for you. I have prepared, waited patiently, given freely, learned from my past experiences, and have the time + space to train and guide the perfect sub for me. 

I will not judge you for your past or flaws. I will call you on your shit. I will not be a scapegoat, extra wallet, or emotional whipping post. 

I will care for you during and after scenes. I will not accept inconsistency or illegal activity. 

I am aiming for a dynamic where we both have our goals/careers/travel plans aligned. This will eventually lead to a 24/7 dynamic. 

____

While some may say the wait is unbearable. Just accept some of you may die alone. Especially if you're being lazy about your search and self-care. 

I'm enjoying the quiet, but not the isolation. I'm over my phases of being on the hunt. I am actively searching for her. Hell, you may even know someone.

I want some coffee and then I'll hit the gym. 

Have a good day.  

A sweet girl from a farm family.

Blonde, brown-eyed, thick thighs

German men hated every inch of her

Bella. Her smile is sunshine personified. Her skin is young, clean, and vibrant.

Never touched by the staining darkness I was raised in

I remember her hips were moving semi-awkwardly to a song that I wrote

She kept two wilted flowers for me when I came back from the war

I remember she never kissed me

I remember that one night we passed and in a moment we thought about having a future

Her family would never accept, and I would never leave the Army...alive

My drink is smoking as the cold liquid bites at the lip of the glass

My aunt taught me this recipe

She said the madness is a fever.

And if I gave in. She would kill herself to save whatever was left of me. 

She held me close the first time I drank this. 

My body convulsing. Face feverish. Muscles strained till they almost snapped. 

So young, so vulnerable in her arms, so naive in broad daylight

I puked up cheap food

Sweated out most of the drugs before the hangover took me

My voice held a silent rebellion built from the rage of ghosts 

"I could die from this"

Her voice bled iron over some of my deeper scars

"Better than losing you to white police."

Putting the drink down, I know she's proud of the man I have become

Why was I thinking of Bella? Do I regret leaving her for the Army?

She never knew the streets, but she loved it when it was dark

Fuck.....They changed her while I was gone

They took half of her reason and almost all of her youth 

Even though she sold out before I could make her those empty promises

No empathy echoes in my heart as I watch Bella roll and scream in madness

I take her out of the tub as she screams she hates me

Surely another couple of tattoos and some wine should fix this

My eyes harden before fucking her to sleep

She has a son now. It's only now she wishes he was mine. 

My gold fangs shine in the streetlight

It was never worth all that effort

She tried dancing with demons not knowing they dance out of appetite...instead of the logic to survive

Solace is found in that starting difference. Both fading from thought on the drive home. 

Stripping naked and slipping into the shower

The dinner bell rings

I dry off and turn out the lights. Tonight will be ugly and necessary

I swallow my pride and make love to my own demons

I stroke their egos and tell them how they're above me

I cook pieces of my heart and boiled a piece of my soul for them

Made bare the parts of my self they swore I would fight tooth and nail before surrendering

When it was done, I cleaned the dishes, puffed the pillows, and kissed foreheads.

I hummed a lullaby from my younger years. My voice echoing across the soft silence 

The lullaby is the cadence I used to slit their throats and cut their lovers' hearts out

It's all mine anyway

My best friend and spiritual advisor are trying poly with a man (John) she has known most of her life. They were both under the mistaken impression that they could do this because they both had the basics, had years of connectivity, and both wanted to try something new. Upon introducing new partners, the man found women who wanted something long term, while my friend kept finding men who just wanted sex. They chose to handle this by attacking what they perceived to be a threat. Instead of conceding ground and supporting their partner while being transparent about fears, partners, goals, and just how much they don't know. 

The story continues. John's two partners are 1. an older kinkster who is in an open marriage 2. a younger porn star and socialite. 

While Spirit Lady had 25 messages an hour coming in from the Cage, Tinder, and Bumble. 

Being the voice for poly in this conversation. I knew this wasn't an equation for happiness.

A stubborn monogamy minded woman + John who just wants people to be happy + a lack of awareness + whoever they might be dating at the time DOES NOT equal a stable poly relationship. That's just a mixed bag of bad vibes and confusion. After the breakup talks, John is visibly shaken and asks "what did I gain from that?" My friend attacked this. Only to realize John asked that question BEFORE they were officially dating. So...now...she's mad, he's emotionally isolated, and the competition is trying their best to get him back. 

Better make it a two on two decision, instead of a three on one, women vs men decision. 

End result. At my friend's behest, John chose her. BUT upon having a stressful breakup convo with two women, my friend chose to give John an ultimatum. Break up with those two or I'm leaving. 

Rewind. If you want a man to do something, then they do it. Is it in your better interests to threaten them with loneliness and isolation if ....what....they don't do what you already asked?

I advised my friend to support her goals. Life is about transactions, what you get, and what you give. She wants this one guy in a relationship where they both try kink. That one guy is doing what she asks and is trying to be in a relationship with just her. Now....the perfect thing to add to this is threats. Clearly.

I further advised: The next time he has doubts, sit in his lap and give him a beer. Look him in the eye and have a positive moment. It could be sex, a walk, reading together. Cement the FACT that you are the better option, instead of angrily preaching the theory of it.

In Leadership Training, my career mentor advised me (when managing people) "Don't be just another source for stress and confusion. People naturally run from stress and confusion." Just paying it forward. 

My friend laughs. She hates this. She didn't think she would have to fight this hard if at all, to get what she wanted in a situation where her thoughts of personal worth, connection, and intimacy would be at risk of being fractured, stressed, and/or expanded. We hugged, I told her about my recent bout with monogamy. I told her to OWN her process. The selfish and broken parts of her included. If you're going all in, go all in.

"Keep playing games in these streets, and you will end up under them." ---Uncle David. RIP 2004

She's trying poly and going for monogamy. I'm in a monogamous relationship, going back to my roots in poly.

____

I was in a monogamous relationship that ended recently. We met online. She was curious about BDSM but hadn't really practiced it. She had a corporate job, her own car, place, dog, and family backing. Covered everything my mother could drill and burn to the ground (she loves me).

In the beginning, I was a poly dom, working in adult film and casually dating who I wanted. Well...that came to a stop. 

As my relationship grew, other things were slowly eliminated. Then a few months later, I was miserable, hadn't had sex in weeks, quit making $$$ in AF, barefoot in my kitchen, texting (while cooking) when she would make it home for dinner. COVID cost me my security clearance, so I'm in limbo until the Fed hires me back. 

Her job became more stressful, I got COVID on Thanksgiving, and then hoes started hitting me up to cuff up for the holidays. 

I found myself in a mindstate where I was lonely in my house, staring at the floor, telling myself "just don't talk to other women and it will work out."

Which was similar to the mindstate I had on deployment "Just keep my head down and it should work out."

At the time, she had helped me pay rent, got me through the VA case management process, drove me to my rehabilitation appointments, and more. I was watching her dog every day, cooking healthy meals all day, and cleaning/doing laundry. Obviously, life put us here, I didn't aspire to this situation. We had tangible benefits and for a time, had personal and logical reasons to be together. 

We were not doing anything substantial to support the inside aspects of each other or our relationship. We were so busy handling the rest of our lives. Which I will note, could be a motivating factor for why people on here are trying to stuff as much of their lives into BDSM. See previous posts. 

The breakup wasn't even that. Since the intimacy had died slowly over weeks, this was more of a formality. Which made it easier for us to be friends. I admitted that she taught me some valuable life lessons, helped me through depression, and apologized for overloading her with everything from my job, family, and contractor life at war. She told me to call her. We have plans. 

She revealed some things I didn't know before. 1. she never had been in a successful poly relationship, only bad monogamous ones. 2. She didn't like or respect other women much. 3. Between work, her dog, and family, she wants her love life to be easily managed and engaged with. And just doesn't have it in her, at this point in life, to learn new ways to connect/expand, while taking the good and bad of new partners. 

Then we both saw I was becoming more miserable, she was becoming more unhappy, and her dog was mad that the river of snacks had dwindled. 

I conceded. We made plans to grab beers later. We still talk

I am now reflecting back on all my monogamous relationships. Speaking specifically on the classic Christian monogamy practiced in America. You know the one, with the diamond ring and a legal contract with the state...not God. Always had an issue with mainstream religion. It seems that a bunch of perverts who like to play with kids made laws on who gets what when people sign contracts. Land, slaves, women, money, crops.

The sunrise wakes me up. It throws bolts of sunlight through my blinds and my man cave of blankets, cannabis, and snacks. 

Last night, I took the chamomile tea with WIllie's Reserve Indica. Out like a light. 

Good thing I laid out a tray of fruit and bread last night. I am so good to me. Thank you to myself as well, that man be putting in work. 

I stroll into my kitchen. My shoulders are wrapped in a microfiber blanket, thick lumberjack socks adorn my feet, and I finally found my old baggie beanie to wear. I hear bells. There's a family in a horse-drawn carriage passing by outside my window. All I can think of are all of the people who would hate to be up at 6 am, in winter, to ride in an open carriage. Sadri would snarl, her family is from the islands, she does not play that BS.

I keep my phone off and open my laptop. I'm dedicated to keeping the noise out of today. To reconnect with people after the holiday fever has died out. 

Social media and news don't interest me much, fuck around and find out Obama got kidnapped. I can't handle that emotional stress right now. 

I see messages pop up on the cage. Mostly stall for time texts and questions about poly. I'll find someone more interested in feeding me than their own demons. That will take some time. I've had a few women who were healthily obsessed with me. For one, I will compliment them for keeping the beast in check. It felt good to have someone want and need me but didn't make me feel used. They wanted to capture and add to my life, not take away pieces of me in order to control and take away from my life. The difference is like night and day once emotional awareness sets in. I chuckle over my tea about times when I couldn't make this distinction. Blindly grabbing at every text and notion of opportunity. "Maybe," "I just don't feel like.." "If only I could feel better about.." "You have met my standards, I'm just really picky"

They all translate to: It's not going to work. 

The carriage comes back around. I take notice that there are two fewer people in it. God, I'm good. 

Throwing the skillet onto the stove, I feel like cinnamon french toast and a scramble would be a good start to the day. Coffee is already brewing. 

Two exes and a former playmate send me friend requests on Facebook. I delete both. 

A notification pops up. A new message in my college email. I click it open. It's Donna. She's going to be taking some finance cert class. 

Which means, she moved here? Oh....well this changes things. 

I hear the Streetfighter announcer: "A New Challenger..."

I was just contemplating saving up for the next year and moving to Thailand or South America in July. Should I start working on finding a sub who would like to travel with me? Meh...on the road is not the place to find out glitches in the dynamic. We should be settled for at least 6 months before going. I have some friends in Thailand. I'll be there for a year or two then I'll move to Vietnam then the Philippines. Whichever one is best is where I'll hang the hat at. Rented a 3 bedroom house in the countryside for 200 bucks a month. I'll build a canoe to paddle upriver to the local market. 

Honestly, if Donna could work things out with me, it would be awesome. She has the home-field advantage over other females. Tan is already in Thailand. Those two would get along. It's just Tan's schedule is crazy now that...well that's for another blog. 

For those who haven't tried remote life, it isn't as barbaric as you might think. We have wifi, running water, heating, and A/C. The local market meets most of our food needs. If you want the fancy snacks, head up to the gas station. The food is raw and heavy. I miss old Mama-san, she should be 72 by now. And she makes the best chocolate covered mango pancakes on this planet. A faint thought of nagging paranoia hits me. What if she dies before I go back. Then I realized........I've never heard of a Thai woman dying from old age. They are immortal beings. 

The last time I was in Thailand, I met a submissive at the beach, she was Thai and Swedish, she was on vacation with the family. It was a lucky night to find someone like her. We chose to drop pretenses, you could have sworn we had been together for years. You know the connection is solid when you can show someone your inner child and your inner grand parent. 

Merry Christmas to all. I think I'll stay in for New Years' also.

The house is empty. The neighbors have put their kids to bed. It's Christmas Eve with clear blue skies and the sun is shining well past 4 pm.

It's late winter, but I am going to count my blessings while I have them. 

Everyone is out flying around the country, deployed for jobs, or visiting family. I have no plans and no company. 

Just enjoying the still quiet that is only interrupted by the oven and the dryer.  

I decided to skip buying Christmas gifts. As the weeks to Christmas ticked down, I watched people devolve into greed, stress, debt, and conflict. 

An astounding amount of people hit me up in November. 

Cousins.....who I have never met. 

Exes.....freshly single and feeling nostalgic. 

Friends....eager to drown sorrows and memories in alcohol. 

New Interests....sending one-word texts with a pre-formed response that they were waiting for you to hit them up. 

___________

There is a difference between emotional depth and emotional capacity. 

If emotions were physical strength. I'm talking about the difference between a tai chi master and a bodybuilder. 

**I light my pipe. Dani brought me some tobacco leaf from the Amazon. I mix it with cannabis and enjoy the feverish kick that hits my face and lungs. 

Two texts have my phone light up my face in the afternoon shadow of my living room. It's Teresa. She apologizes for ghosting me. I delete the text before reading the rest. The second text is from an old Army friend. We talk for a bit. The Rough Rider Group after 5 years. Two dead, one is an addict, the strongman is deployed in Iraq, I'm injured, and old Moon Dog is still in the Army about to be a Drill Sgt. I tell him I'm proud of him. He was always the best of all of us. Not in a superior/inferior standard of meaning, but in that he just learned from our life lessons and continued to be friends after his success. 

___

Letting this entire battleship of festive holiday experiences pass me by on the waters of time and creation.......has let me fall in love with the idea of peaceful days. The oven beeps, I'm baking sweet potatoes in maple sugar and cayenne pepper. Looking out the window, couples are running left and right into the nearby park. A young couple splinters into a quiet argument. I can't help but notice the woman has a very nice ass. To which the guy points and shouts something. She walks off. 

I open up my Macbook over the kitchen counter and let a couple of motivational videos play. I like to boost the vibe while I cook.

It's usually trap hip hop, a speech music video, or jazz. 

I fire up... the electric face stove, prep, and oil the skillet, then threw in kale, eggs, butternut squash, cabbage, rice, and Brussel sprouts. On my life, I never thought I would willingly buy, cook, and eat Brussel sprouts. But I have eaten my body weight in sugar the past couple of weeks so blood sugar control is on the mend. Apple cider vinegar will be next up.....AFTER desert. It's Christmas Eve, best believe I'm going HAM on this apple pie.

I want coffee. I decide to have a smoothie. Orange, banana, and strawberries. Seems like plants would be more compatible with plants. 

.....I stop. The Devil on my shoulder sits down, and says "Bruh...coffee is a plant."

Mind....BLOWN. I nod in humbled silence. 

The angel on my shoulder replies "So is this." Then lights a blunt (Willies Reserve Green Caffeine) and hands it to me.

A balm and solace against the burn from earlier. 

I hear the neighbors screaming at their kids from the car that they are going to be late. Traffic is BOOMING. You would swear one of the most impactful diseases known in American history....wasn't lurking around every corner. 

I had COVID on Thanksgiving, recently tested negative again. Even though there are rare cases of reinfection, I can feel a weight lifted off my shoulders. More than a few contractors had to admit that they are at high risk. Which in turn lost them their job opportunities. Case and point, usually you can't deploy as high risk or immunocompromised. If you test positive, it's 60 to 90 days for the test results to reach the recruiter, corporate, on-ground management, flight team management, and more. So to recap, I lost my job, clearance, spent most of my savings, helped out a few people along the way, and now I'm pending cases and applications. 

Ok...good pep talk. Enough about work. The holidays just have me reminiscing and getting the itch to go out and make some money. I'm still waiting on my workman comp claim. Now reading articles that say it took a minimum of two years....before COVID. So.....fuck. Going to have to go back to college, but I have a math placement test tomorrow. 

You know what? I'll turn this into a self-development day. ALL DAY tomorrow, I'm gonna study math. Then take that stupid test. Probably bomb it and then get whatever degree I can. Damn, that's nerdy. I take a hit of Green Caffeine and toss a CBD treat in the air. Took 3 weeks but I mastered Jackie Chan's gumdrop wall toss. 

__

My spiritual advisor is 5'4, long black hair, compassionate alpha type, raised in a temple before immigrating to the states. All she does is eat right, meditate, and work out. She fine AF. If there was an opportunity to date this woman, it would be scary at first, but I would take it. Even knowing it was doomed to fail after 8 months. My thoughts go back to BDSM. My spiritual advisor calls to ask about canceled plans. She advised against me downloading the Co-star astrology app. In the middle of it, I cracked a joke about how she broke my heart a few days earlier. We went soaking in the hot tub downtown, she invited a female friend.

In the half-hour we were alone (before a said friend arrived), I decided to tell her straight to her face. The truth. If those cheeks can get clapped, let me give my standing ovation. She tells me what I already know. I boldly replied: "Give me the top 3 reasons you think it won't work (for 8 months), I'll see what I can do."

She sits back into the hot tub wall. Her pose is confident and compassionate. She looks like she's about to tell me that even though she knows I have kids and a sick mother, she has to lay me off from the company. 

Number 1: You're a man. 

The bedrock of logical thinking in my heart takes a heavy impact. Fractures are evident. Internal damage most likely. 

Number 2: We are not fully compatible. She's a rebel vegan spiritualist. I'm a former US government contractor. 

Internal temperature is critical. We are losing this fight. Mayday. Mayday. 

Number 3: ......

Ego defenses activated. Trauma blocked. 

_____

Thinking back to BDSM. I watch the cannabis smoke sneak out of my room into the hallway. I got a Molekule air purifier. So it won't make it far. 

For all the messages, blogs, comments, and chats that I typed and read, I feel like I missed out on something. Something complimentary in value, but vital in the market of dating today. I skim through another set of blogs and forums that are filled with frustration and disappointment. There are a couple of gems to smile at, I send a message or two. I think back to the spider battle. Anna, my sub at the time, would probably just grill me and then let her imagination free roam on the strings of delicate and deeply personal questions. 

I make some tea and tuck myself into bed. The kitchen is clean. This is so fucking nice.