A Change (Would Do You Good)

This is one of my favorite songs by Sheryl Crow, though this blog has nothing to do with the song itself, except that the title is very true.  

As I’ve stated before, I am an extreme creature of habit. I enjoy routines, and could probably tell you what I am going to be doing at any given time at a future date.  There are things I do at the same time every day every week, every month, etc. 

In my youth, I was very spontaneous. I rarely knew what I’d be doing in five minutes, let alone making long term plans for the future. Sometimes people would mention someplace and I’d drop what I was doing and go.  But I was also a lot younger, and a drug addict.  It was after being sober that I started to get into routines.  It really was an important tool for my sobriety actually.  Focus on what’s next and after that, and after that rather than thinking about wanting my next fix.  It really helped.  

However, it is now 18 years later.  I’ve been sober for 18 long years (as of November 6th, I sobered up on my 22nd birthday) and the routines of my daily life have changed very little. I still get up two hours before having to be somewhere to allow coffee time, I still have the same morning routine in the bathroom every morning, I still have to have my things set just so around me when I sit down to dinner.  Part of this is definitely behavior indicitive of obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) though I’ve downplayed that throughout the years, I will admit it is true. The symptoms of OCD which I display are not crippling as they are for some people. I do have to physically touch the locks on my doors to ensure they are locked before laying down to sleep. I have to always have to have my glass and silverware on the left side of my plate at dinner, even in a restaurant (I’m left handed). When I sit down to read or write, everything I could possibly need has to be within reach of me and I don’t do well with interruptions.  

I’ve recently, in the last year and a half or so, realized that my dependence on routines has gotten a bit out of hand. It started when Tim and I separated. I fell into a daily routine living alone very quickly just to keep my sanity from not having such an important part of my life not be there anymore.  But within a month of living alone, I made the conscious decision to stop that madness.  It was kind of nice NOT knowing what the day was going to hold. Since then, I have switched up little things here and there.  Ive found that it has been good for my fitness also by not spending certain hours doing certain things or to be be utterly prepared to not get up for hours at a time as I used to be. 

I’ve took some chances lately that I probably wouldn’t have taken before. I took a promotion at work in July, switching my schedule to four 10 hour days instead of five 8 hour days. I’ve switched up my routine of cleaning and laundry on Sundays to whenever I get to it on my days off now. Little things along those lines, but I think they’ve been good for me.  I also took a chance to start dating again. This was a major step for me.  I’m learning about a whole new person and their life. I’m having to switch things up drastically to accomodate the schedule of not only myself, but another person. Also, the dynamic of the relationship is one that definitely isn’t something I was used to (but that is a whole other blog topic). 

Change is unavoidable in life.  We can fight it or accept it.  Some things are easier to change, others require an effort. Sometimes it is sudden, other times a gradual thing.  But one thing is for sure. Sometimes, A Change Would Do You Good. 


New Blogs

On Monday, November 6th, I turned 40 years old. While some of you think “DAMN he’s old”, and some of you are thinking “aww, what a young guy”, and even a few that say “age is just a number”.  But regardless, it was a milestone birthday for me, as it is for most people.  

I made a promise to myself on Monday that I would get back to my writing.  I worked ten hours on Monday however, and didn’t get around to it that day.  Yesterday, on Tuesday, I sat down here on my couch after having a major panic attack that morning.  I had my keyboard in front of me, I turned on soothing music (as I often do while I write), I had my tea, and a short list of topics I had been compiling.  

However as I sat here, I couldn’t even type a coherent sentence. It was the worst feeling after the panic attack earlier in the morning.  I thought and struggled hard to say something….anything…..but came up short.  I decided to give it a break and put away the keyboard.  

This morning, however, I awoke to a million ideas swarming through my brain. I am going to do a series of blogs titled by song titles that mean something to me, they may or may not have to do with the actual song, though I suspect most might.  I would like to do another “best of” blog as I did with the Beatles, though after some feedback, I’ll keep it shorter and contained to one blog post. I also have some relationship advice that I’d like to share, some insight I realized too late after my husband was dead, but knowleedge that will help others and myself in the future. 

I’ll also be (finally) posting a few stories on my creative writing page. I am excited about that, and I warn you now that some of them will be NSFW, though I’ll say so if they fall into that category. 

But for now, happy reading! 

Things That Start With ‘S’

I thought long and hard of of how to tie things I wanted to discuss into one blog, as none of them felt like they were enough to stand on their own. Then it hit me, they all start with the letter S! (Or I’m going to make them). 


It’s Scorpio season, kids. Halloween, November, fall has hit us, and most importantly, my birthday is coming up. Scorpios kind of have the reputation of being the bad boys of the astrological signs. We are opinionated (hence the title of my blog), sometimes harsh with our truths, we aren’t known to sugar coat things, and we are (according to popular opinion) freakishly fun in bed.  But it’s not just the sign itself that excites me, it this time of year in general. Not just because of my birthday, though that is a plus, but this is a wonderful time of year. Halloween is the best holiday in my opinion, I love the fall colors in the trees and seeing all the reds, oranges, yellows, and browns warms my soul. 


As I said earlier, Halloween is the best! I love all the scary movies and shows. I like seeing the shows about the great lengths people go to to decorate for the holiday, and the attractions people come up with. Plus I am fascinated by “actual” haunted houses, and this is the best time of year to catch shows about them. I love seeing old houses that have a story. Secret passages, grand staircases, odd things people built into their homes decades or centuries ago…it’s fascinating. But I’m kind of an architecture nut. 


A couple years ago, when I had lost my first significant amount of weight, my husband bought me a pair of black corduroy skinny jeans. I know he meant well, but all they did was accentuate all the work I had left to do. I had to lay flat across the bed to get them buttoned, and they gave me a horrible muffin top look. He told me they looked great, but I know he was only trying to be helpful. But recently, I found them in the closet and tried them on again. Not only do they fit, there is room to spare! They are comfortable, and I can hold the waistband away from me. For a former fatty, that’s a huge deal! My only complaint is the pockets are shallow, I guess skinny people don’t need to carry much around with them. 


Since leaving Tim in May of 2016, I’ve slept on a futon that killed me, then I bought an air mattress that popped a seam making me roll out of bed. Then I slept on my couch for over a year, but as couches inevitably do, it started to get very uncomfortable and caused me a lot of back pain. I finally broke down and bought a bed. I got the mattress first, then the frame came about a week later. But now that it’s in place and I have an actual bed….WOW. I’ve slept great, no back pain when I get up, and quite frankly, I don’t want to get out of it. I’m laying across the bed as I type this. It’s just that great. 


On Tuesday, I started talking with someone. He is wonderful, we have a lot in common, but not so much that it’s annoying. I have not actually met him yet, it’s been all texting, but I see great potential. I may be fooling myself, but this smitten feeling is wonderful. I’m trying hard not to read more into it than may actually be there, but it’s the first time I’ve felt like this in a long time. Maybe I am craving for love again, or maybe I’m just a bit infatuated, but either way I like it. 

These are my thoughts for my week. Maybe in the future I can try to tie other letters together, it was fun! 

You Can’t Always Get What You Want…

…But sometimes you get what you need.  This is more than a catchy Rolling Stones song, it’s become a reality for many folks, like myself, that think their dreams are being shattered on the daily. 

When I was much younger, I wanted a lot of things.  As a small child, I wanted to be “normal” and not the odd child I was.  As a preteen, I wanted to fit in and not be a part of the outcasts I was friends with in middle school…be one of the “cool kids” you know?  As a teenager, I had embraced my “odd-ness” but I wanted to be able to openly be who I was.  As a young adult, I was comfortable in my own skin, was open about myself, but was a drug addict though I wanted to be better than I was.  By my mid-twenties, I was sober, had a job, my own place, but lacked the love I wanted in my life. Constant heartbreak had made me a jaded asshole when it came to relationships.  

I wanted to be with Tim, in fact I talked to him for two years prior to meeting him. I begged him to go out with me for a very long time before he finally relented and we were together for 11 years after that. But though that time I got what I wanted, it didn’t turn out the way I expected.  13 years of my life culminated in the death of someone I both loved unconditionally and had grown to hate a little.  But I’m not here to talk about that.

The progression of how my life has went has been on course.  Meaning I always wanted something, but I always got what I needed instead.  Had I been more popular, or normal, or less odd, I wouldn’t be the person I am today.  Had I got exactly what I wanted as a child, I’d probably be married to some girl from high school with three kids I can’t afford, stuck in a job I hate, and living within a few miles of where I grew up (if not on the actual farm itself).  I’d be miserable.  By getting what I wanted, I learned it wasn’t exactly what I needed. I wanted a love. I got that, but also got some issues I may never get over completely. 

There is a difference between wants and needs.  You need food, water, shelter.  You want expensive things, money, and personal desires. I have never been homeless, I have never gone hungry or thirsty, my needs have been met.  I have wanted numerous things in my life, material things, emotional things, and desires. But not getting what we want is the key to happiness.  We think we need what we want, only to find the things we want aren’t what we need. 

I needed to be a bit of an outcast as a child to prepare me for the discrimination I’d face as an adult. I needed to be a bit odd when I was younger in order to accept the fact that life isn’t always happy as it seems on the outside.  I would even say that I needed to be a drug addict so I could learn that goals are acheivable and they take a lot of work rather than to just be handed to us. I needed to have my heart broken so I could learn to love.   Sometimes we even have to get what we want to see that it isn’t what we need.  

Life teaches us many lessons.  It starts when we are young and never stops until we die.  The best thing you can do is learn from life and let it help you make better choices in the future.  Regret is the worst thing you can do, everything happens for a reason.  And sadly, sometimes things don’t work out i your favor.The moral of the story, kids, is be careful what you wish for.  

Secrets And Lies

I know I promised not to post about Tim, but that was a lie….and I kept that fact a secret.  See what I did with the title there? 

But in all reality, this post is about me (mostly).  After Tim’s passing in February, I’ve had mood swings like it ain’t nobodys business.  But I’ve kept most of them to myself.  There are days of sadness and crying, days where I curse myself for putting up with some of crap I hated about him, and days where I am actually at peace with his passing. The ups and downs are extreme at times. 

There are a lot of secrets I’ve kept hidden away from people. Some of my friends know a few things, a few others know a few other things, but no one knows all my secrets. And as very few of my friends read what I write (though many think it is “super cool” I have a blog) I seriously doubt any of them will read this.Although, that is kind of the meaning of “secret”.

One secret, that itsn’t really so secret is that I miss him. Not all the time, like I am not sitting around pining over the fact he died, but there are times I do miss him terribly. He was not only my partner, but my best friend for over a decade.  A lot of little things I see or hear and I immediately want to tell him, but he’s not there to tell anymore. 

Another secret is that I do have days that I think about him (probably) more than I should. These are the days I sit and listen to sad music that had a significant impact on Tim and I’s life together. I cry, I get sad, I remember good and bad times, and I long to talk to him again.  I’m not sure what I’d say honestly, but the feeling is there. 

There are secrets about me that have little or nothing to do with Tim as well.  Since I separated from him a year and a half ago, I’ve been a bit of a man whore. I’ve tried some things sexually that I would would never have tried with him, just to see if it interested me at all. There are several “fetishes and/or kinks” That I have realized I do enjoy. I’m not going into that now, though, perhaps that is another topic entirely. 

I’m secretly starting to hate anything associated with what should be called “Family”.  When Tim died in February, his family and I got together and they swore I was family to them and they would be there, that was their lie. The day of his memorial, my family abandoned me in my time of need, in which I in turn abandoned them all together. I do not care to speak to any of them, for any reason.  The friends I once considered my family, since we were so close, also have disappeared into the void of other people.  It’s not a secret that I am alone the biggest portion of my day, everyone is well aware that they aren’t there.  

It is a secret that I prefer to be alone. Every time I’ve attempted to be social, it just makes me miss sitting at home alone. I have a few friends I’ve hung out with one on one, and that is fine, but crowds terrify me. It’s gotten so bad that I’ll go to the fitness center in my apartment complex and leave if anyone else shows up….regardless if I am done or not. I just can’t stand being around most people. 

Lies are dishonesties that are usually told to other people. But at times, we lie to ourselves everyday. I am usually a horrible liar. My face flushes, I twitch, I sweat…but there have been some little lies that I’ve told recently that even I’m starting to believe. 

The biggest lie I tell is that I’m fine.  Fine. How could anyone be fine after losing their best friend, their lover, the other half of their soul?  I’m not fine at all. I’m lonely, I’m heartbroken, I’m sad, but I am not “fine”.  I don’t want other people to pity me, nor do I want to see that sad look on other people’s face if I told them how I really feel.  It seems easier to just say “I’m fine” than have to explain things. 

Another lie I tell is that what I do in the evening.  People often ask how my night went after work or how my days off were.  I usually respond with what I think will garner the least amount of questions. “I just watched some tv” or “I went to the gym” or “I just read my book” are some popular answers I say.  When, in all reality, those may not be complete lies, they are never the whole story.  I often do sit and watch tv, but what I really mean by that is I vegged out on my couch and chain smoked while binge watching tv like a fat slob.  I do go to the gym occasionally, but since Tim’s death I could probably count the times I’ve went on my fingers, I just appear to be going a lot because I don’t eat like I should and I continue to lose weight. I do read on occasion, but not like I used to…I tend to find similarities to Tim in things I read and that hurts, so I don’t do it often.  In all honesty, I spend my evenings and days off either binge watching tv, napping (I can’t seem to sleep enough), or listening to music and singing along with my headphones on. 

I lie about sex. I either lie and don’t mention that I’ve had moments of weakenss and actually had sex, or if I do mention it I lie and concoct some story about how they (the other guy) pursued me and it may be something…when the truth is there have been times I haven’t even known their name. There have been a few times that those lies are true, but not always. Even after a sexual encounter I usually feel so digusted with myself that it happened that I don’t tell a soul. It’s like that feeling when you are going through puberty and you start masterbating and it’s another guy that gets you off, but you have that “oh no, I’m gay” guilt feeling. I have not missed that. 

I find myself keeping a lot of secrets and telling a lot of lies.  They are personal secrets that aren’t anyone else’s business anyway, and the lies are little white lies that aren’t really hurting anyone (shy of my mental health), but they are secrets and lies all that same.  I know that it isn’t doing me any favors by keeping to myself, nor lying about it, but it’s how I cope.  I’ve always fancied myself a strong person that can take care of my own problems, but I’m not sure that this is working through my loss.  I also don’t really WANT to open up about it to other people. I think Tim and I’s relationship was private, and there is but one person on this earth that actually knows the story…me. I’m not searching for answers, just ranting. 

Social Experiment: Grindr Late Nights

I have had grindr on my phone since initially leaving Tim last year. I usually only turn it on on my days off of work, but I do pay for their Xtra premium service, so I get offline messages.  One of the great (or not so depending on how you feel) features is that you can set it to keep your phone active, meaning your phone won’t go to sleep.  I tend to turn it on and leave it on while not paying the slightest attention to it about once a month so my phone will die, then I can charge it fully afterwards.  It’s a weird quirk I have, don’t judge me.

Wednesday, I decided to turn it on.  I have a few chat buddies on there, and I’m not going to lie….sometimes the eye candy is great to look at.  After a couple hours of my phone sitting next to me silently, I quit paying attention.  I decided to leave it on so the phone would die while I took a bath, cleaned my bathroom, and did some laundry.  wasn’t paying any attention to my phone at all for hours.  I figure that if I got any messages, the same thirsty bitches would be back tomorrow when I (might) feel like answering them.  

My phone must have been unattended about 6 hours when I finally noticed it had died.  So I plugged it in and began the charge.  As it was charging, I looked to see if I had missed anything.  I did have a few messages… mostly consisting of “Hey”, “what’s up”, “are you a top?”, and my personal favorite “dick pics?”.  

But the astounding part of this little experiment wasn’t that I got the messages, I get those type of messages so often I have learned to ignore them.  But rather the time I got them (the messages have a time stamp).  Apparently I am the guy you hit on once everyone else has turned you down.  I’m like the homely guy in the bar at last call that only gets spoken to because everyone else has hooked up and went home.  A bit upsetting, but as I am not really there to hook up, I’ll live.  It is a bit hurtful though.  

Perhaps I ought to state clearly in my profile that I’m never going to want to fuck at 3am, but that seems like a waste of space since you only have 255 characters to describe yourself. Maybe I should change it to only say “NO”, but that is rather rude to the people (the extremely rare people) that I do have conversations with.  I’m not a complete prude, I won’t say that I haven’t hooked up, but that’s not really my goal with any app, social media, or chat function on my phone. 

But I’ll keep the app, and keep chatting with my friends from there, maybe even meeting for drinks or something occasionally. But I’ll start shutting it off earlier so I don’t feel like the last minute choice…. 

Dating Is Hard

This blog should alternatively be called “Why Does Everyone Want To Cuddle”.  

I am a member of a culture that seems to idolize youth and beauty.  It’s not something to be proud of really, but there it is.  Gay men in general (not all, don’t get your panties in a twist) seem to all want a young, skinny, pretty boy. Or the extreme opposite, they want a big burly manly man.  Though the majority of us are somewhere in the middle, it’s the stereotypes we have to deal with.  

I recently decided to be open to dating.  After separating from my husband, I went out a few times, Then after his untimely death, I went on a hiatus again.  It’s been seven and a half months since he passed, so I recently decided to try again.  However, it is proving more difficult than I had anticipated. 

I’ve met several guys that just want sex, but that would be normal for any demographic. I’ve met some that “just want to be friends”, translating to “I want to get to know you before we have sex”. You usually know this type right off, they don’t really like to make plans ahead of time, and they want to “hang out” rather thango to dinner, a movie, or any other activity.  Granted, I am a different type of date. Taking me to dinner is fine, but I’d rather go hiking, go to a museum, or go to an event where we can talk, but there are things to talk about should there be a lull in the conversation.  I don’t like movies for dates in the beginning of a relationship because you are essentially two people sitting quietly in the dark.  There is no fun in that. 

Another type of guy I am encountering is the over talker.  There are two types of these. One, they want to talk about themselves constantly without an reciprocation in the conversation. It’s like they feel compelled to give you their entire life’s story in a couple hours.  Two, the ones that asks so many questions about me and my life that I go away from the date not kowing anything about them.  Conversation is a two way street.  It’s fine to ask questions, but you must be prepared to answer them.  As a general rule in ANY conversation, I try not to ask any question about people that I am not prepared to answer myself.  But a great conversation is a give and take. You need to talk and be open as well as listen to what the other is saying. 

Then there are the cuddlers.  Sometimes the fall into the first group, where they think that is a precursor to sex, but I’m finding several that legit just want to cuddle up on the couch and watch tv or something. I. Hate.This. I have a hard time sitting still. Very rarely can I ever sit and watch a show or movie for more than a half hour, let alone lay there holding onto someone for the length of a movie. I’m not opposed to people that want to cuddle, if it’s your thing, go for it.  What astounds me is the people that get all bent out of shape because I don’t want to. It’s NOT my thing, I don’t like to remain idle that long.  I am an active person,  be respectful of that. 

There are the guys that ask you out, you go, then all the sudden they think you are in a relationship. Hold on there buddy! One date doesn’t constitute a relationship.  I’m not that fast moving.  Take me out several times, THEN we can discuss where things are going.  These type are usually the ones that think “OMG, I found a guy. I must plan my future with them immediately!” I just don’t operate that way.  

My personal favorite is the guy that asks you out, is a great conversationalist, talks and listens…but then asks about why I’m single.  So I tell them an extremely brief synopsis of my past relationship, (I have this down “I was with my ex for 13 years, married for 11, I left him due to his personal issues, then 10 months later he passed away”….short and to the point).  Suddenly after that one sentence, I am either too hung up on my past, I am not over my ex, or I talk about him too much. Even if I do not mention him at all otherwise.  The thing is, I’m not ever going to be “over him”, but I realize that he is gone and I need to move on with my life. I am exremely conscience of what I say about him, so as not to talk too much about him.  But with that being said, he is a large part of my past and he or the experiences I had with him are bound to come up at some point. I do NOT present him as someone I am sitting around pining for anything like that.  

I am not desperate for a date, nor a relationship.  I am perfectly content on my own.  I’m not one of those people that need to be with someone and can’t stand to be alone. You know the type, bouncing from one relationship to the next and not taking any time to learn from them or realize what they want for themselves.  The type that meet a guy and they are “so in love” two days later.  I’m just like that. I don’t understand the ones who are. 

Surely there are guys out there that enjoy the dating aspect.  Taking time, getting to know one another, and respect the fact that everyone has a past and some kind of baggage attached.