Me who hesitates is lost

‼️Caution: this post contains strong language and themes of sex and sexuality. If you’re offended by such things please just go away.‼️

In my Holiday Recovery post I didn’t bother to mention what ELSE occurred last weekend, because now it just feels too damn depressing to talk about.

At the conclusion of our trip I was left alone with the host of our landing site for about an hour while the more sober kayakers were retrieving the cars from the launch site.

We were both kinda hammered and she confessed she knew about my asexual wife from our mutual friend and commiserated with me.

She offered possible explanations and potential fixes, all of which i’ve long since exhausted.

I assured her “it is what it is”. My wife is an asexual. There is no fix. It’s just how she was born.

Then she turned the conversation to her own sexuality, and how she feels like she’a peaking right now in her forties because she masturbates so frequently, and how her vibrator is her “best friend”. Also, she totally finds “50 Shades Of Gray” a turn on.


Now, my mind, of course, went THERE immediately, but my body didn’t really follow along. I had means, motive and opportunity to make a move on her or at least escalate the conversation even further to be sure she’d reciprocate – but I didn’t.

I just took it as “girl talk”; she’s comfortable talking about anything to me. That’s good, right? Or maybe she has lousy boundaries. Or maybe it’s because she’s a bit drunk. But I didn’t take it as an invitation to ravage her at the time – which it might very well have been. I can be quite dense about such things.

I’m not sure why I didn’t react physically; she’s quite attractive, single, and i’m fucking starved for sex. I mean, sure, we’re all taught not to take advantage of drunken women. These days that can lead to serious fucking trouble. Not to mention i’m married. Still, I wonder why I didn’t react more predictably.

In any case, nothing happened. Our party arrived with the vehicles, we loaded the kayaks, exchanged pleasantries, and left.

To be honest. I felt some regret; like i’d missed an opportunity to get what I think I wanted and I didn’t feel any guilt for wanting it. But did I really want it? I do, right? What the hell is happening to me?

I reached out to our host the next day on social media to thank her for bringing lunch for everybody and giving us a place to land. And honestly, I wanted to see if there were any smoldering embers that might clue me in as to her intent in regards to me.

There weren’t. Embers, that is. Or clues.

The private message was polite and succinct. She’s moving to Florida in a couple weeks, btw. Yay.

So….if there were any actual opportunity for sex, it’s certainly lost now. Or maybe I was right to just take it as “just girl talk” and anything else was purely my imagination run wild…again. I do that sometimes.

Whatever the case, I feel deflated. Confused. Depressed. Had it actually happened I might feel exactly the same way. So i’ve got that going for me, I guess.

Holiday Recovery

It was a busy, long weekend. I had Thursday-Sunday off to do as I pleased.

My brother came over Thursday afternoon to watch Game Of Thrones for the first time in a long while because of Covid. He loves it. I’ve already seen it all but the last season. We used to do this every week. Hopefully we can continue. Good brother time.

Friday, my wife, her friend Vicki, and I went kayaking out on Proud Lake. We stayed away from the river proper to avoid the crowds. We also stopped at the beach briefly to take a swim, but it was so hot out it wasn’t refreshing until the breeze on the lake evaporated the water from our skin when we got back in the kayaks.

My wife did a test dump-over in shallow water to see just how hard it is to recover. Let’s just say she’ll be actively avoiding that fate.

We went kayaking again on Saturday. Our longest trip yet (about 10miles) on a stretch of the Huron River most people avoid because of the many obstacles and nowhere to get out without sinking into black muck.

Unfortunately, a large limbo-log in my path got the better of me and I went down. Lost a water shoe in the muck. Lost my glasses. It was a cluster-f*ck. Kinda ruined my mood for the rest of the trip. Everything was covered in black muck!

It’s also kinda funny, in retrospect. I may be investing in a sit-on kayak and sell my sit-in kayak after that experience. Ugh. 😁

Took about 8hrs for us to get to our destination, which unfortunately had no sand, no dock, and plenty of large rocks. Also, I had to trudge all our kayaks up a large hill and around several obstacles and a fence.

Doesn’t sound all THAT bad, right? Now do it with bare feet over broken walnut shells! Seriously!?! Walnut tree-lined yard! I have cuts on the bottom of both my feet! And yet, still, somehow, I managed to have fun.

Sunday we recovered. We were exhausted (especially me). The only thing we did was wash the black muck off the kayaks.

Today I relaxed and serviced air-conditioners in 95° heat for eight hours! Ugh. Gonna be a long week! 😂

We Hold These Truths…

‼️ CAUTION: a political P.O.V expressed. May upset fans of the president.‼️

Happy “Independence Day“ for my fellow USers, though there’s not much to be happy about these days if you watch the news. I try to avoid it.

Instead, I’ll continue to the explore poetic forms I’ve discovered following the “Whittled Words” series by CommonSensiblySpeaking.

Today’s poetic form is the Triolet (tree-o-lay) which originated in medieval France. You’ll find the rhyme scheme below.

A (first line)
B (second line)
a (rhymes with first line)
A (repeat first line)
a (rhymes with first line)
b (rhymes with second line)
A (repeat first line)
B (repeat second line)

“We Hold These Truths…”

We hold these truths to be self evident;

that all men are created equal.

Even as we suffer a narcissistic president,

we hold these truths to be self-evident.

Even if he never understood what that really meant,

and considers himself above all the people,

we hold these truth to be self-evident;

that all men are created equal

Mirror, I’m Reminded

This is a “Luc Bat” poem I wrote in response to the “Whittled Words” series from CommonSensiblySpeaking

Here’s the syllable/rhyme scheme:


(Btw, if anybody can explain to me how to include hypertext via the mobile app, let me know. 🤨)

Mirror, I’m Reminded

Beneath my eyes, skin sags

suchlike grocery bags, sacks of

sorrow. Pores like foxglove,

hair recedes from above, below

it springs like a meadow

dusted with dirty snow. Mirrors

make everything clearer,

remind me i’m nearer, to you

Fools Rush In…

I have this really annoying habit of offering people unsolicited advice. Sometimes i’m subtle about it. Sometimes i’m as blunt as a ball-peen hammer.

I’m really just trying to help. Honestly. I have no ulterior motives for offering my help – the help that NOBODY asked for.

I really am a fool in this regard and I never seem to learn my lesson. “No good deed goes unpunished,” the idiom teaches.

Two recent examples:

Example #1:

The other day a friend and I were discussing music. I don’t even remember how we got on the subject, which was not the original intent of the text message. She mentioned that she’d recently recorded some vocals for a friend and that she was excited about music again. Then she offered to send it to me. I responded, “Yes! Please do.”

Problem was, it was bad. Really bad. Like moral quandary bad.

Now, I have this well-intended theory that goes something like this: telling someone what they want to hear does them absolutely no good when they’re pursuing whatever endeavor. Telling them the truth will make them want to improve and try again. Great theory, but not really applicable in a non-academic setting. I really should have been a teacher – for moral defense purposes if nothing else.

I made the same mistake back when I wrote music reviews (well, critiques really – I should have known the difference). Sometimes my critiques were taken really well, other times they threatened my health and safety. I was really the only one out there in my geographic area who was willing to risk writing a bad review of an otherwise good band. Others just ignored what they didn’t like and reviewed what they did, all in a few paragraphs. Not me; I sweated the details and defended my position over much lengthier, well-balanced articles because I thought they deserved an explanation. But I digress…

I told it to her straight, it was bad, and immediately began to qualify my statement, telling her that I didn’t mean that she couldn’t be good with some practice, or in a better song, or on a better recording, etc…blah blah blah.

As soon as I hit “send message” I knew I was doomed.

She thanked me for my honesty and asked for details. I provided them. In fact, (and this is where I really excel at unsolicited advice) I offered to learn the song, chart chords from the melody, and re-record it for free.

“I’ve already charted the chords for you!” I exclaimed.


She eventually responded with something about wanting to learn the guitar. I told her I could help her do that. Your place or mine? Really put myself out there. Maybe I felt guilty.

More crickets.

Not a word in a week.

I really should know better. I’m aware of The Three Gates and all that: Is it true? Is it necessary? Is it kind? I overthink everything, so I say, “It depends.” I’m probably wrong.

Example #2:

Having suffered through a recent blog post in tortured “English-As-A-Second-Language”, I took it upon myself to edit the entire post and offer it to the author as a learning aid. Again, not an academic setting and nobody asked for my damn help. Also, I did it in the comments. Not my finest hour.

The author promptly deleted my query, as well she should have. For all I know it was an automatic translation that murdered the language and not her.

I just go running in…like a fool.

I’m done. Really. This time it will stick. 😏

Beat-Up Jalopy

A beat-up jalopy rests on the grass.

Once an icon of progress, its heyday’s long past.

Its windows are broken, its top torn away,

headlamps are askew; one up and one straight.

Its tires have rotted right off of their rims.

Its spoked wheels are seized and the axles won’t spin.

Its door panels rusted right through to inside

where critters are nesting in seats where they hide.

Though its floorboards are gone and its fenders are dented,

I can’t help but think that it still looks contented.

“My work here is done, lest you fancy a ride

with the ghosts of my passengers who have long since died”

~this is just a goofy little verse I’m working on for the birthday of the photographer who took the featured image above. She’s a member of our little arts group that used to meet once a week pre-covid. We’re going to surprise her later this week with some words for some of her photos.

Just some recent history about WordPress

I just received a comment from a follower who had to use a separate email account to actually leave a comment on one of my posts.

This made me wonder why WordPress is so buggy and disjointed. But after reading the following article I got a small clue – this entire thing is open-source 😳. I may have learned that way back when I signed up (and then abandoned it) but this reminder explains a few things.

I’m still getting hip to how things work (or don’t work) around here, so don’t take it as gospel. I could very well have misunderstood some esoteric page setting I haven’t noticed yet. But that goes to the point about how user-unfriendly this site can be – particularly when it comes to the difference between desktop and mobile experiences.

The Ungrateful

I just refused to be “serviced” again. It’s becoming a Sunday ritual, though I suspect at some point soon I will not even receive that offer. I was kind of a childish jerk about it.

“I’ll let you know when it becomes an emergency,” I told my wife. “Until then….”

After all, I should be so lucky to get any sexual attention from anybody these days, right? Whether it’s inspired or not, it’s still an act of love; to provide for the needs of your partner whether you feel like it or not. That IS love at this point in our relationship.

But here’s the rub; as an asexual, I now know she NEVER feels like it. And what’s more, she never did, and that makes me think, “How could I have been so stupid, blind and insensitive for all these years?”

That rumination takes place in a split second and before I know it, i’m feeling sorry for myself or resenting her – and I f’n hate myself for that.

I never, in my wildest imagination, thought it would be me who “had a headache”, so to speak. I never thought I’d be the one to say, “It’s not you, it’s me.” It IS me. I’ve changed with this realization, not her.

But i’d better get over myself or i’ll be sentenced to a life of onanism. I don’t like myself enough to sustain that.

Cap’n Copper On Lookout

We took the dogs on their maiden voyage today. I took Copper (fox terrier/Shitzu mix) on my kayak and the wife too Romeo (chihuahua) on her kayak. We stuck to the local part of the river, embarking and disembarking at Central Park.

It went more smoothly than I expected. Copper was giving me a bit of anxious whining, but after he went overboard a few times from slipping off the bow he settled down. I had him tethered the whole time and he had his life vest on as well, so there was no danger.

Thankfully the weather cooperated; they were calling for rain but we didn’t think it was going to come. The positive result was the river was relatively uninhabited with kayaks and canoes, allowing us to wallow in the lovely scenery and pay attention to the dogs.

We stopped at a local beach a couple miles up river, ate some snacks and let the dogs do their thing. Cooper was envious of the bigger dogs who were allowed to roam the beach untethered. I gave him a little swim time after we ate then headed back.

Tomorrow we may go back to the more challenging part of the river and do some more exploring – without the pooches this time.

Here are some more images I took on the river:

Some Home Page Maintenance

Spent some time categorizing my posts so far and doing a little menu maintenance. Does anyone really visit the home pages? I assume desktop folks more than mobile folks, eh?

Anyway, if they do bother to visit, I got rid of the stock page banner image and uploaded a detail from a painting I bought called “Windows 1” by Richard Sperry. He’s not famous or anything; I just dig it so much I had to have it. It happens occasionally. If I were rich I would probably go crazy buying art, but I digress….

I also created a host of categories based on the things I tend to write about and created a “Read About Me” page in case anybody cares to read some basic biographical information. I can’t image why, but there it is.

Any other tips for tidying up my space here on WordPress?

Come visit and let me know.