A Special Kind Of Love

"The good thing about masturbation
 is that you don't have to dress up for it"
Truman Capote

I posted on FaceBook this morning: I am enjoying an unexpected day off. I worked 27 days in November & in just the last week I worked a 15 hour day & 12 hour day & I worked on one of my normal days off.

A dilemma: Do I treat myself to one of my favorite situations- an entire day off with no agenda or chores, & the house to myself on a cold rainy winter day. I can read, blog, touch myself inappropriately, eat something naughty, have a cocktail & get seriously relaxed after 2 weeks of high stress.

Or actually get out of my jammies, shower & take the train to Downtown to surprise The Husband by offering to work a half day at Boys' Fort.

I am leaning towards the selfish choice. Would you think less of me?

I am giving The Husband & his sidekick- Lil' Jake, the Hip-Hop artist & designer, 2 days working at Boys' Fort, their Man-irific pop-up shop in beautiful downtown Portland, the days right before Christmas & I am hosting bubbly & bits after hours party on Sunday. Why should I feel any guilt?

I received some lovely & thoughtful advice on FB, but I opted to have a date with myself. It had been a very long time.

I was better than I had remembered, just the right combonation of selfish & skilled with a touch of thoughtful & tender.

A log thrown on the fire,

Two profiles met as one,

The igniting of desire in the air,

but when there's just one profile,

& yet desire grows,

Despite the fact there's no one else to care.

Must romance be abandoned

As it's fanning its own flame,

Waiting to burst full-blown?

There’s a special kind of bliss,

Not engendered with a kiss.

Surreptitiously indulged in
 less well known.

For when one cannot make love with another,

One can still make love alone.

There's a certain special magic to the touch of your own hand.

& a special thrill knowing that you will for sure soon be feeling grand.

& the tender swell of rapture,

You don't have to try to postpone,

That's what it's like when you’re Making Love Alone...

Oh the sweet, sweet sound of your own breathing,

As the sky turns pale pink to hot,

& the special thrill knowing
 that you will not catch

 God only knows what.

It's the kind of love
 that fits hand in glove,

& burst like a bud full blown.

That’s what it's like when you're Making Love Alone.

Who can describe the special sweetness

Of knowing the speed that you’re going is right,

& is there anything as thrilling

as trying to keep the book open to page 24 all night?

How reassuring to know when it's finally time to go

That you'll still be there when you leave,

& as dawn is for breaking you hear yourself making

a date for New Year’s Eve.

It’s the kind of love
 that fits hand in glove,

Especially when the glove is your own!

Its a date where you
 can't see their faces,

The one who knows all the best places

Who’ll never ask your sign on the phone

The simple magic of making love,

Not taking, faking, mistaking love,

The simple magic of
 Making Love Alone,

Save on cologne!

That’s what it’s like when you're
 Making Love Alone!

Hardwick & Wilson

1978

An Ode To Onanism

The Husband: “I didn’t want you to have to worry.” That was the explanation for why he didn’t tell me that he was leaving his job until the evening before his last day. Swell, & worry I did, but then I am a worrier. This was at the end of April, & I have become quite adjusted to the change, & I accommodated the his new life as a househusband & a freelancer. But, I have rarely been alone.

Anyone in my circle accepts that I require & yearn for time to myself. I am an only child of 2 working parents, & at 6 years old, I would walk home, let myself in to our home with my own key, & would then have 3 splendid hours with the house to myself. I still seek the solitude 50+ years later. For me there nothing so perfect as a rainy late autumn day with no agenda, no obligations & no company.

The Husband has been working a day here & there as a design associate with a lovely designer friend. They are doing 16 condos at Government Camp, on Mt. Hood. I arrived home at noon to find myself with the place to myself, with notice from the Husband that he was “at the mountain” & would be back in time to go to happy hour at the neighborhood watering hole.

An afternoon alone! Just me & my shadow. Me, myself & I’ll go my way by myself. I was unaccompanied, unaided, unassisted, unattached, unattended, unescorted, & unhinged. I immediately set out to behave in the manner that pleases me most & the Husband not so much.

The Husband likes the TV on, not just to view his favorite shows, but just on from waking to bedtime: old movies, HGTV, Ellen, Oprah, Joy Behar. He will be working on a house project or in his studio, but he finds comfort in the world of TV sounds. I am often around for the ride. When I am on my own it is no TV; I listen to music. I listen to “my music” & I play it loud. On my solo afternoon I behaved just as I wished. I turned off lights & lit candles. I cranked up the stereo, I danced around in my underwear. I sang along to the music. I ate half of a pot brownie & got seriously turned on, up & around. I spent time at the computer blogging, reading blogs, doing research, & because I was alone, I took a peek at some porn from that internet thingy. 

 I am really not a big porn guy. We have maybe 3 DVDs, & no magazines. In the1st 5 minutes of porn viewing & become powerfully aroused & supremely stimulated. At minute 6, I become soundly tired of the tease, blasé & disinterested. For me, porn is just pink, pink, pink, in, out &, in & out. Yet being alone, I felt I should fit in another activity that I have neglected since a certain someone is almost always on the premises. I made the decision to make love to that special one. Yes, an afternoon of self abuse! I would catch up on some long neglected whacking, knocking out the one-eyed champ, wrapping the presents, feeding the chickens, answering my bone-a-phone, blessing the alter boy, cranking the shank, Eberting my Siskel, doing the hand jive, holding the sausage hostage, making the bald guy puke, clapping with one hand, shooting without scoring, slapping the chubby, tossing one off, waxing willy, whitewater wristing, playing yahtzee, or my favorite- Uncorking the Champagne.

I checked out just a few more moments of some German Prison Porn, undressed & slipped under the duvet. It was considerably cold in the bedroom & I began by hugging & rubbing myself to warm up.

I placed the most depraved image in my brain & let the libido take over. I awoke to the gentle sound of the Husband’s greeting 4 hours later.

As if I am so boring & undesirable in bed, that I fell asleep at the 1st moment of foreplay. Even I don’t want to have sex with me! I indubitably feel rejected by myself. I patently promise myself to give me more attention & affection & try to recreate that voodoo that I do so well. I will start the titillation by sexting myself this afternoon. I never know when I will have an hour to myself again.






Great songs about masturbation:
My Ding-a-Ling- Chuck Berry
Darling Nikki- Prince
Orgasm Addict- The Buzzcocks
Dancing With Myself- Billy Idol
Blister In The Sun- The Violent Femmes
Praying Hands- Devo
Turning Japanese- The Vapors
She Bop- Cyndi Lauper
Pump It Up- Elvis Costello
Beat It- Michael Jackson
Thinking About You - Radiohead
Touch Of My Hand - Britney Spears
With My Little Ukulele In My Hand - George Formby
Ramrod- Bruce Springsteen
Miss Me Blind- Culture Club
Hit It- English Beat
Sugar Walls- Sheena Easton
Let’s Hear It For The Boy- Deniece Williams
Jack & Jill- Classic Nursery Rhyme
Oh, Come All Ye Faithfull- Tradition Carol