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Check-in 12-26-22 Secret Shame/Judgments/Call blocking apps for protection, water buffalo plodding.

Hey it's just another night back in frigid, rigid, New Yawk City. I just finished working on a client who looked like Santa Claus. There was life in the old boy yet. "Thank you Steve for the resur-ERECTION!""Your welcome R. and thanks for the fiver tip!" 75 years old, almost tripped climbing up the one flight of stairs. He'd been reading my blog and before the session while I was setting up, he remarked “So you didn’t have a good time in Costa Rica?”

Humph! I beg your pardon. Let me clarify something here. I did have a relatively great time in Costa Rica and alternatively, yes sometimes I did feel acutely alienated and lonely. I’ve stated before I believe this was because I didn’t have all my NYC distractions to keep my mind and energy occupied! And whenever I’ve vacationed in the past MEN have a been a huge part of my activities, and fun; cruising, hooking up, sexy beaches, etc. But as one gets older—yada yada. Well, darling, to put it simply "Aging creates space" in some of our lives. While others may gain more and more social networks, those feral "black sheep" such as myself, not so much. Surprisingly (yes I’m still processing this aspect) it was an “asexual trip.” My driver told me the last night "there's not even a word for "asexual" in Spanish!" Anyway, my condition in Costa Rica, I believe again was due in part to my age and part to my NYC armor. I don't want to sound like a "New Yawk neurotic" kvetching, but I haven’t traveled on a plane since 2010-so for me to do this trip (17 days in a tropical paradise, alone after the first five days when my somewhat chronically unhappy travel companion left), well I think that’s pretty damn ballsy and brave. So there. Again.


Also enough with the online age-real age bullshit. I’m 68. So there again.


Reflecting in a non-guilty way, maybe I should have gone to a church service on Christmas Eve to explore making new friends. I’m still processing the fact that for me to attend a church—in this case a church that appears on the outside to be very welcoming to all types of people (and yes, it is), well, hey it’s still a church with pews where people sit and ask God's forgiveness. Doesn't really resonate with me. Also the one service I went to (at this same church), it was had a kind of puritanical vibe; or strict (?) and I just felt somewhat constrained. Didn't help that they kept mentioning all the NYU students they wanted to welcome after the service for coffee. Ugh, Barf. (Grace church downtown). The draw of that church has been primarily the music (free Bach recitals at various times weekdays). The organist, a rotund queen didn't recognize me when I attended the 6:00 service even though I'd heard him play a few days before and made an effort to thank him, compliment him and share that organ was my first instrument. Obviously he could care less. In the past I relished my Buddhist period where there seemed to be more contemplation, more dialogue, less of the dichotomy of good and bad. That’s why Buddhism or what I call my own brand of “California Buddhism” worked better for me than sitting in a church with pews listening to sermons. I should get back to the Buddhist thing. Problem is all the workshops (for attaining higher and higher levels of enlightenment in the "Shambhala sect") get really expensive-no financial aid for seniors. So I stopped. Again, another example of my self-isolation. Boo who.


Also, I guess there’s also a bit of “Secret Shame” that I carry around when it comes to being inside a church, and being around church folks and knowing full well that the “giving release thing” in my chosen part-time avocation of M4M massage wouldn’t fly too well with the majority of them. In reality (not just in my mind) I believe that most church folk, would label me a whore or a “Daddy Jezebel.” Funny that in 2022 these thoughts still make up a part of reality that I experience day-to-day. I have a hard time with the lable "sex worker" too. I am a masseur (period). Even in “big ole, sophisticated NYC." Clearly in N.Y.C. people in general are probably less judgmental than in any other city or are there just too many people here and do we like to tell ourselves that to compensate for the shitty quality of life if you are old and poor?. Queer folk have made great strides in this society. Still how much can you push the envelope without getting your ass bit?! Judgments abound. Hell, some queens were laughing at me 'cause of the way I danced the last time I went to The Eagle. Funny how when the queens attack, you almost come to expect it. Just sharing my "Secret Shame" herein about the church is a huge step for me. This is probably something best written in a top secret diary, not an online blog for all the world to see. That being said...(she goes on...LOL.)


I recall my most recent spate of obscenely homophobic, hateful callers I had more than a month ago. "Do you give faggot massage? HA HA HA." Thank you Donald Trump for making hate and ignorance an "OK" thing. Thank God for a call blocking app that really does block calls!


I'm still working on trying to forgive Fat Anthony from the Bronx for stealing $100 bucks from me. That's a tough one. Just as tough as forgiving the water buffalo couple upstairs for their constant walking (he plods around while he fucks her in a sling--or WTF are they doing up there???!!! Ghastly--I have no idea (and could care less). I don't hate them, I just hate listening to their constant movement! Tonight after Santa Claus I had to resort to noise cancelling headphones. FORGIVE HARDER LOL. Challenging when you live in a vast urban jungle like NYC. Even rats and gerbils turn into cannibals when living in severely overcrowded cages. Kvetch kvetch...


I can bare my soul in my writing, because I’m secure in the knowledge that I’m unknown. A big, unknown, older white guy. An senior queen. A hot, older mess with my fair share of baggage. Hooray! And this is a very long read. People don’t like to read long blog entries. Especially strangers reading other strangers shit. Hell, I would hate for any of my friends to read this shit! Also, being Bi-Gay I’ve always felt like a bit of a bad boy. I never knew how to be “New York Gay-the-Right-Way." And hardly anyone (6 reads on a recent blog) in the world will even ever read this. The water buffalo couple upstairs sure don't care--they're too busy eating, (I just KNOW they are foodies, they must be with all that time they spend in their kitchen for God's sake, then walking and fucking quietly (quiet except for the constant plodding back and forth, back and forth). Bless them, for they are in love. Just wish they would break up. Guess that's not gonna happen any time soon. But I digress; no one will ever read this. I guess, because online, I’m no one, don’t claim to be anyone special and I blog for me. Not for you. I blog to "Soul mine" into the great mystery that's me. So there. And there (again).

Goodnight. "God, help me to believe the truth about myself, no matter how beautiful it is" LET ME OWN IT. Not just rent..then the serenity prayer...

LOL


#nycmasseur.com #saintorr #steveorwhat


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Dear Gents; I do not send out x-rated photos in order to convince or persuade anyone to book a massage session with me. This is way beyond my pay grade. My reputation, experience, health and vitality

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