I was talking to a construction worker I'd hired the other day and he was sharing how his son is online for six hours; then when he gets off he's in a bad mood, not unlike being hungover!
I myself hate being online for more than 30 minutes at a time. Even when playing music I switch between actually playing a full-sized keyboard back to the screen application (Cubase 11 in this case) to manipulate the music. I know from my word processing days of yore that staring into a screen--for me--for any extended length of time changes my mood drastically.
This also could have to do with the aging process. My filtration system is degrading as I get older. The sounds of NYU eunuchs screaming next to me at a restaurant are cause for me to leave. Also, this new syndrome of tough--assholish white boys--acting like jerk-offs especially when drunk on the weekend nights is plenty of cause for alarm. Here we are again it seems in the 80's. Or the roaring 20's revisited.
I must exercise impulse control. These young men are potential train wrecks, having as much bottled-up violent energy as hardened criminal types. My new Mace did come in in the mail today, along with my new computer. I hope I have many years of successful use of the latter. Of the former, I hope I don't ever have to use it, but knowing I have it in hand makes me feel safer.
Two massages inquires in the last 24 hours. Disconcerting to say the least when the man says "I apologize for the late notice but are you available this afternoon? Do you have a shower?" Then "I'll get back to you." Jerk off. I should have blocked him. And some piss ass last night (Sammy Bee from Rentmasseur) emailing me at 1 AM. "How late do you take appointments?" Too late to answer your inane questions...
These types of experiences make me LONG to leave New York! The sheer mindlessness of men with cock on their minds, enough to make you swear off men.
Then before I go to bed, I see my latest copy of HADASSAH and I think, damn, it's fabulous to be in one of the most cultured, savvy, cosmopolitan centers in the world, yay though it does seem like a sexless, castrated city.
I have no luck with younger straight-acting men. The DL's. These are the types I'm attracted to and their closetedness are very toxic for me to interact with. Their propensity for violence is as overt as a hard-one (John Sedillo, former sublet here in my building last year, case in point. Charming as all get out one moment, the next, a bloody, potential Gay-bashing goon; then biking around half-naked on his Surry bike wearing only a G-string and "ballet shoes" complete with the former girlfriend who looked like a boy. PA-LEASE). At the same token I'm seldom attracted to the twink queen types.
Yesterday, however, on 14th Street in front of Trader Joe's I saw the most beautiful man I think I've ever seen. Sheer Adonis. A student no doubt. I remained indifferent, simply staring. If this were the 80's I would have plunged in with "Hi" putting on a big, sexy grin and unabashedly reaching out. I do wish that part of me still lived. But I am so damaged by all my years here and by all the years of M4M massage. Not sitting on a pity pot. Just stating a fact. Oh, I'm sorry! By damage, I mean to say "wise." I pray I never fall into the trap of being blind in love again. Not worth it. I'm all for meeting someone and sharing the journey but I could and would never allow myself to act as the romantic slave to any man. That's the quickest way to suicide. It's hard enough to listen to my soul and find my own direction without that! LOL.
Only had one beer last night. And now back to a sober night, but I may get a tiny bottle of Chartreuse...I makes me feel like I'm drinking Wormwood on the Left Bank while conversing with Hemmingway and Gertrude Stein he he. Maybe Tequilla. I take micro sips. A tiny bottle can last for a few days. Why not?