January 6th


I don't think there is any doubt either within or outside of the medical profession that we, the members of the various medical communities, are the world's worst patients. No doubt, no question, and hopefully that won't shatter any pedestal images you might have.

So, allow me to open up my soul for a bout of True Confessions. I'm an overweight hypertensive and occasionally depressed middle aged fellow. My warranty has long since expired and I need to continue the equivalent of taking my old '86 Oldsmobile through Jiffy Lube every 3000 miles. I'm normally supposed to be taking a blood pressure pill - Lisinopril, a diuretic - Hydrochlorothyazide, an antidepressant - Wellbutrin, and a second antidepressant, which helps me sleep and which works together with the Wellbutrin to cut my appetite in half - Trazadone. [A handy drug reference engine is located here.] Now, this might be verging on TMI now, but if I can't use this forum to give good and bad lessons on life pointing the spotlight on myself I don't know why I'm here. Anyhow, the composite result of having blood pressure problems and being on any one let alone all of those pills mentioned above is that I've had to spend the past few years dealing with erectile dysfunction. Limp willy. Engine is running but the tires are flat. Often able to get it up myself at home but not that often in shared company. It's probably no surprise to anyone that this has driven me to become [I've been told] quite competent with my hands [and they never get limp]. It's also probably cleared time on my dance card for my doing more sex surrogate activities [piercing, bondage, flogging, etc.] All those surrogate activities often do include sex but they don't have to. It's great when they do, but they're great in their own right. I've also spent a few years now wandering the wilds of tantric stuff, along with prostate massage, and I know that I can have earth shattering orgasms that roll on for time and knock me into a new dimension, without my dick ever being touch.

All that is well and good, but for some years now I've been enjoying a resurgence of wanting simple 'vanilla' contact, gentle touches, horizontal and bilateral power exchanges, the .... ... .. 'nice' things in life as well as the kick ass exciting things. This holds even more today as we speak - as I work on rebuilding my sluthood in the near future I want to add in as much simple fun sex as I do the harsher types of play. I need it as much as I need to pierce, as much as I need to fist, as much as I need to bind or control. To me it's simply another flavor on my palate. I've been sexually active for close to 40 years now, involved in the leather community for the past ten or so and involved quite actively in a swing club for a decade prior to that. After some years in the kink community I realized that for some time I'd simply forgotten, more or less, to have sex along the way. One day a few years ago I had a friend over and we fucked in my bed, and I realized that the last time I'd put my penis in someone else's vagina or ass was 9 months prior. I'd been active as hell, but the dance card had omitted some of the old fun stuff. That's when I started negotiating more of a balance in my play - "I'd love to flog you; would you mind pounding your hand up my butt after?" and such things. I never requested such when I was negotiating with my dyke friends, as it would simply be an insult and I enjoy playing with all my friends, but with those where it was an option, I sought a balanced exchange.

A while back, never mind the particulars, I found that I wanted a stiff dick. I started backing off my meds gradually and Mr Happy reappeared! It was a welcome thing, to both me and my partners. When my dick is in full and engorged state it can be a wonderful thing to play with. Over time my edema became worse, my blood pressure fluctuated, my pulse stayed high and my moods dwindled.

In December last I realized that I had to change this. In December I talked about healing - now in January I am healing. I suppose I have to go through the first to get to the second, but I since 1/1/02 I've had my calendar up next to the desk, putting a big X through the date twice a day when I take my am or pm doses. I can already feel myself getting more comfortable both physically and emotionally, and my appetite has again gone down giving me hope again of getting my weight back to a healthy point.

On the other side, of course, I spent about 3 hours today attempting self worship. I changed DVDs, I changed wanking stories I was reading, I used Eros - the good stuff, thought about giving someone head, thought about getting fucked, changed butt plugs, fantasized on everything about Drew Barrymore except for Tom Green ... and all for naught. No stiff willy, no squirt, no "yes Yes YES!". I'm not discouraged though - I just know it's going to take time to rebuild my ability to properly respond despite the meds. I'm NOT going to halt the meds again.

So why the public exposition? A couple of reasons. First of all, one of the satisfying things for me in the years I've been writing this journal has been the tremendous file of notes I've gotten from all over the world on all sorts of weird stuff I've talked about. People telling me to keep on keeping on, that having me out here public and stuff gives them hope to reach out for their own brass ring. If I can convey anything about the emotions of a man with this problem, and encourage other men to address it positively and their partners to work with them, then it's a Good Thing.

Secondly, there are a lot of folks out there who are Blue Blazer Regulars, and like Regular Pinky Carruthers would have to Buckaroo, are very willing to speak up and tell me "Impudens es leno! Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo! Expergiscere et coffeam olface! Take your damn meds!" [Buckaroo always liked that obscure reference stuff - you can get the essence by inference]. And although I hope I won't be needing that kick in the butt, I'll welcome it if I do.

Well, that's probably much more than anyone wanted to hear about my dillywhacker on this beautiful Sunday afternoon. I thank you for listening and here's to all of us getting healthier, happier, and laid more often. Life, even with a limp dick, is damned good.



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