Life at home

I wonder if Little k would mind if I asked a sexual question here?

I don't want to open a whole thread about it, and I know the folk here will answer sensibly.


I'll ask it...and stop talking about it if 'k objects.


Ladies and Germs of the thread:


Have you ever slept with someone who turned into a log when it was his/her turn?



I mean someone who was very nice about doing nice things to you, then becomes utterly sient and loglike when you are attempting to return the favour, such that you have no guidance about what might be welcome and what not? When the obvious doesn't give much indication?


Or....just a log generally.


I think it's weird.....but I wondered if it was as weird and totally ardour freezing as I found it.

A log, huh? Not a branch, or a twig?

Heh



That sounds irritating. The obvious thing is to ask, but that's tricky towards the beginning. Could be some sort of concentration thing.

Could be some sort of misguided feminist sort of thing -- like giving head is great but getting it not so much. Certainly the blowjob in porno can be subtly or not-so-subtly an act of violence against a woman.

Or maybe -- and this is one I can attest to to a certain extent -- formative years were spent discovering his sex bits in necessary silence. Very restrictive home environment, close quarters, that sort of thing. I spent my puberty in a trailer with paper-thin walls, and both bedroom and bathroom walls abutted the parents' bedroom. And I've gotta say, it trained a certain amount of silence into me. Not a complete lack of demostrativeness, and it didn't take that long to get over it when other opportunities arose, but who knows? (Gotta say, though, there have been a couple of instances when the ability to get through the deed in silence might have saved my neck. An erect penis and a girl with a daddy issue is a combination that can get you into a tight spot.)





(Ha! A tight spot...)





What's this to do with anything?

Logging is a problem I have come across. (that sentence is soooo full of innuendo).

Nipping is the answer.

Nipping?

No, I don't mind at all, dlowan.

And he is gorilla-like.

And, no I've never done it with a log. Or I've never done it with a log twice and then forgot the first time.

When I was a navigator in the navy, I even used various kinds of logs several times par day ... :wink:

Maybe you've done it with a log twice and forgot both times.

I can't do logs.


I asked.


He just doesn't get the whole feedback loop thing. He likes it in others....but he doesn't get it.


Other stuff too, but it's getting too intimate (his stuff....but none of it made sense of the utter silence..)


The thing that I asked because of, is that he said nobody else had ever commented....and to me it was like one of those weird telephone things that delay the auditory feedback you get from your own voice, and almost nobody can continue.


I couldn't.



I just wondered if there was a whole world of logs out there which I had never come across in my travels....and, indeed, if my non log world was the aberration. I have asked a couple of very close friends.....and they don't know from logs either, but I suppose by definition I inhabit a non log world.



He's s gorilla?


Put the hair in the bin, then.


Although I suppose his hair might suffocate a few sewer rats?

When I nip, they STAY nipped.

Anyway, for all I knew, he was dead, and nipping would have been disrespectful.






Little k...what made you CHOOSE this house mate?


I mean.....gorilla is damn fine ON a gorilla....but nothing gave you pause?

Well, we'd interviewed just a few people. We waited too late, came to crunch time. We thought for sure the Italian would move in and he let us know that he wouldn't be several days later. Dasha had gone to India for 2 months by then. It came down to the Portuguese guy or little miss perky. I thought it might tire me to live with little miss perky. Silly me. Dasha was leaning toward lil miss perky, too. Should have listened to D.

she was little. and perky, too..

but you know what? it's three months countdown from now on. that's so totally doable, three months. and summer has errupted! much more bearable.

I dunno, I'd have instincts against ms. perk as a daily room mate (never did learn to spell that).

i think she would have been alright. i think the interview was making her a little jittery (me+kris+landlord and only one little her)

I hate perky.

anything perky?

Heehee.... she would have been ok. She wasn't THAT perky. But, perky enough.

oy. 12pm. The dingbat knocks on my door and starts discussing the brita pitcher....midnight, mind you. Can we put it in the fridge? We've been through this last summer. I told him again that we both prefer room temperature water, I threw in my chronic middle ear infection and that i don't drink ice cold things if i can avoid it (except for beer but oh well). Then he asks if I can keep a different pitcher out then and we put brita in the fridge. I repeat that we both, Kris and I, prefer to keep it outside (pitcher is ours, filters are ours...), that perhaps he can put a pitcher with filtered water in the fridge for himself. He rolls his eyes and leaves.
F*kin as*hole.

...he contributed $10 towards the filters in the whole year by giving a check to Kris (he refused to actually buy a filter, that's too complicated...he doesn't know what they look like and where to get them...not even after she told him where and showed him it. Besides, they're $10 each and we change them once a month, so his contribution doesn't cut it even closely) He doesn't have a car, he says.... (they're the size of a small glass and weigh nothing). Plus, I don't know whether I'm supposed to filter my water through his $10 check, but as far as I'm concerned he didn't contribute anything to me. So screw his cold water. Arrrrrrrgh.

Lol!!!!


How this brings back memories.



Well, it isn't lol until it's memories.

Man. It makes me want to go back and find all the people at the whoreland house in Santa Cruz and thank them. We thought we had problems, but at least we were all friends through it all. Maybe having 5 to 6 to 7 in the house and having any assortment of friends and drugs around helped.

You always hope to rise above the stuff like Brita filters, but it's the kind of stuff that gets you in the end.


That and the wanking.


We had a wanker.


A LOUD wanker.


I think his bed used to slam against the wall, or something.....I always found it very hard to think what could possibly be the mechanical cause of such incredibly loud banging.


Also, he seemed able to go on all night.


It was a tad disconcerting when one was with friends in the living room.......


Actually, it most often, for reasons which I suppose are obvious, happened when one was entertaining a gentleman and negotiating the thorny path to lerve.....there one would be, in those delicate beginning stages of the mating ritual, when BANG BANG BANG BANG would begin.


Trying.



Then there was the night the same fella set fire to a huge pile of Rolling Stones magazines in the middle of the living room floor in the wee small hours of the morning.


I actually passed the rather Dantesque sight on a loo visit, but went back to bed, believing I was dreaming, or hallucinating.


Apparently the sight of the stack of magazines unfurling in the flames, page by page, was wondrous to his drug hazed mind. Well, I kind of get that, really.