Tripping head

It's been a while. A long while actually. I want to meet this one couple who wrote me two months ago. She's blonde, gorgeous. He's brunette, incredibly sexy. They're funny, weird, hot, I want to meet them. They wrote me two months ago but getting together has been difficult. They'll write, ask when I'm available, I tell them, but my days off never come to pass with theirs. They'll write me the following week, ask when I'm available, I tell them, but again they're busy on my days off. The week after, they'll write, ask when I'm available, I tell them, but they're not available. The week after that, same thing. My availability never web with theirs. And we all live in Los Angeles.

I still want to meet them! Some day.

But this is common place. Same with men. They'll write, leave their number. If I'm interested I write them back, leave my number. Nothing happens after that. Communication ends. Maybe 6 months down the road they'll write me again with their number. If I'm interested I write them back with my number. Again, nothing happens after that.

My point being...

It's fantasy. Head trip. Just wanting to know people are out there who are interested. Flirt. Tease. Kill time. Who knows? 

It's obvious when people don't want to meet anyone. They write terrible emails, degrading ads, post photos of themselves and then write arrogant self declarations of how hot they think their photos look... 

I've come to accept, I'm forced to accept, when online, it doesn't need to go any further than swapping pics.

I meet people through my hair dresser, through the bartender at a bar my friends and I hang out at, and through the manicurist. She knows a guy who knows a guy... Not for sex, but if I need my dishwasher fixed, or a mechanic.

I'm lazy. I don't net-network. I don't have Facebook, or Twitter, or even Snapchat. Ok that's not true, I have Snapchat, in my Cloud, somewhere. But I'm too lazy to engage people, or reply. 

Maybe it's an age-thing.

"When I was a kid we used to go outside and cross the street to get mail from this doodad called a mailbox."

True. All the mailboxes were on one side of the street so the mail (wo)man didn't have to get out of their mail truck in blistering -20 degree winters. Unfortunately we lived on the other side of the street. 100 yards is a mile when it's -20 degrees out!

And while I haven't gone all "Randy Quaid" into the wilderness, it's still a HUGE turn on fantasy to be hiking along one sunny warm afternoon, secluded hiking trail, when along comes a hot couple, or perhaps two (or three) hot guys hiking on the same trail... 

But it's only hot if it just happens. No players. No planning. Spontaneous. 

Ok back to reality.

I remember (those two) guys. Fun times. Miss it. 

Anyway...

Point being, my sexual inclinations these days, are just inclinations. It's horrible since my sex drive is like "3,000 times more intense" than five years ago. And while gone are the days finding compatible hot dirty playmates, the swapping of pictures and initial emails is the new time killing quick fix fun... Or so it seems. 

And maybe it's all for the better?

I just bought a new pair of fuck me heels. 

Who wants to swap? Pictures, I mean.

Playboy, no longer has all nude women in their magazines. Of course I'm buying the first month edition under the new layout. It's history in the making. 

More masturbating. Less sex. The world could cure VD in two generations.  

There's a tagline for you.