I’m sitting here, writing this on the Monday after Christmas. New Year’s is a few days away, and the coffee is strong and hot at the moment. Why do I bring up coffee? Because I’m normally drinking beer when I write these posts. I’m wondering if my “work” will be “better” when I’m more sober or when I’m more drunk. I guess time will tell.

On Christmas Eve, I went to a Christmas party with my Dad and his girlfriend. My women were either out of town, or they were doing their own stuff with their families. The people at the party were closer to my age than my father’s age. In fact, out of about 30 or so people, there were only 4 people that were “Boomers.” The rest were either Gen X and a very small smattering of Zoomers. There might have been 2 or 3 Millennials in the crowd as well, but you get the idea.

I ended up tweeting in buzzed, real time about this party. My father, me, and one other guy were the only one’s there that were height/weight proportionate, as in, not fat. There was not one single woman there that wasn’t overweight to one degree or another. Not one. The majority of these women also henpecked and ridiculed their men. It made me a little sick to my stomach to watch it go down and to watch these guys just…take it. I’ve realized I have a hard line in the sand when it comes to this one. If a woman that is with me has an issue with me, I’m more than willing to hear her out and discuss it, if necessary. In private.

If the woman is new to me, she gets one pass on this one. I’ll tell her to her face, calmly, quietly, to not do that again. There are no second passes for this one. She does it a second time, I walk. I can tolerate all sorts of shit, but not this one. It’s open disrespect and I won’t have it. Whether I met her yesterday or I have been with her for years, the end result will be the same. And you know what? I’ve actually had to have the conversation with a couple of women in the past. In one case, I walked and it was done. In the other cases, they never belittled or talked down about me again. The majority of the women that have been with me, I have never had to have this conversation because they “looked up to me” and saw me as what I was: Their Man. And a human being.

I still am blown away by what I saw that night. I can’t fathom it other than something that somebody said when I was on Red Evening with Jack Napier: “Do you think that the guy’s think that they could do better?” It was a brilliant question and it had never occurred to me. I know I can always do better, so why would I stand for that behavior? I wouldn’t. But these guys… I’m not them, and I can’t read their minds, and I had literally met most of them that night, but I would wager a year’s salary that they don’t believe that they could do better than the wives they had. You get the relationships you deserve.

If that is the actual, “normal” state of “affairs,” I’ll stay single, thanks. And yet that’s not what I see in my own world. My women adore me, cherish me, and are literally crazy about me. And that’s normal for me.

A brief conversation between me and my father:

Dad: Did you get your girls a gift for Christmas?

Me: Yes, it’s the gift of me.

Dad: What are you going to do if they want to return it?

Me: Find another woman. (Shrug)

Dad: O.o

We are not the same.

Speaking of crazy, Red and Black may actually be fucking crazy for real. Not in the “all women have anxiety and are neurotic” levels of crazy, but like literally “on the spectrum” crazy. She may in fact have Multiple Personality Disorder. I’m no psychologist, but some of her behaviors point in that direction. I’m not getting “stabby stalker” vibes from her, at least not yet, so I’ll carry on as usual with her. Besides, crazy chicks can be major fun. Let’s just say that when she has an orgasm, she goes somewhere else and becomes someone else. It’s trippy. It only lasts for a few moments, maybe a minute or two at most, but man, it’s something else. What does that say about me though? Because, man, I kind of dig it.

Like I’ve said many times in the past, I’m not your guru and I sure as hell ain’t your role model.

New Year’s is going to be fun. I’ve got New Year’s Eve off and I’ll be spending most of that day and New Year’s Day with my belly dancer. It will be fun to ring in the new year with her. She’s also opted in on my birthday which is a week later. We will be going back to Wendover for more food and debauchery. When I say “opted in,” what I mean is that my days available to do stuff are pretty limited. Between “dating” itself, work, my shows, and my own personal time, I don’t have a lot of spare time, so it’s first come, first serve with me. My belly dancer grabbed both this upcoming weekend and next weekend for herself. She’s greedy like that. And I’m okay with that. I enjoy my time with her and she knows that if I think she’s taking up too much of my time, I’ll say something and let her know as much.

One thing that my experiences with women and relationships has taught me is nuance. What I mean in this case is that there are a plethora of women out there that I would be more than happy to fuck, but very few that I would commit to. Mostly due to trial and error, I’ve come to some conclusions about the women that I would consider committing to.

The first thing is that she is height/weight proportionate. It’s a no-brainer really, but at the same time, it’s me thinking aloud and giving you something to chew on. I prefer thinner to thicker, but at the same time, it brings me to the second thing:

She has a pleasant personality. She’s kind and easy to get along with. She’s laid back. Think “low maintenance.” If she is pleasant, that gives her some leeway as to her height/weight proportions. I don’t mind a woman with a little bit of fluff on her if she is pleasant. By no means am I expecting perfection, because I am not perfect either. There are limits to how far the weight and pleasant personality go, but there is “wiggle room” in there if she’s pleasant.

Now here’s where the nuance comes in:

I’ve been with enough women over the years to realize that not every woman is “in her body.” In fact, many are in their heads and it’s like pulling teeth to get them into their bodies. “In her body” is my way of saying that she’s comfortable in her own skin, likes sex, has a healthy view of sexuality, and is open to having sex on a regular basis as well as trying new and different things when it comes to sex. The only other term I have heard that seems to fit my description here is that she is “earthy.” She may not be able to stop the hamster wheel from spinning, but she can grease it to make it stop squeaking so much, and she can slow it down on her own.

So height/weight proportionate, pleasant personality, and “in her body” are the things that I look for when it comes to possible commitment on a long term basis. Or any real commitment other than the moment I guess. Nowhere do I worry about cooking, cleaning, being a “quality woman,” being a “good mother,” being traditional, how many tattoos she has, what color her hair is, or what her relationship to her father is.

My belly dancer is all of the above. The one that really stands out though is she is “in her body.” Red and Black is 2 out of 3. She’s more in her head than anything and it can be a pain in the ass to get her into her body. I can do it, and I do, but it can also be tiresome. Not that I’m looking to seriously commit any time soon, but if I were to, I would choose my belly dancer just on the criteria that I have mentioned.

Random, whimsical musings in my head.

The point here is you only get to nuance through experience. Sex, from a purely physical standpoint, feels pretty much the same from woman to woman. You only learn that from having sex with a bunch of different women. Or you can take my word for it. The choice is always yours. I’m a big fan of finding out firsthand though. After enough experience with women, and yes, your mileage will vary, you get to that “nuance” that I’m talking about. You’ll find your nuance, whatever it may be. I’m sure that your “list” will be different from mine.

It’s been a couple of weeks since I posted something, so let me get you caught up, Dear Readers.

A little over a week ago, my Girl Who Likes Pain had to tell me goodbye. She wants something that I don’t. She wants a steady man, a boyfriend, someone who wants and chooses monogamy. That’s not who I am. I don’t know if I’ll ever be that guy again. It was killing her and that’s not what I want for her, that’s not my endgame.

The choices we make and the consequences we reap. My lifestyle of “spinning plates” and non-exclusivity isn’t an easy road to walk and it isn’t for everyone. On one hand, I get to “sample” many women, their bodies, their souls, their personalities and quirks. On the other hand, they develop feelings over time, as do I, but I know who and what I am. I may never have just one person in my life again. I remember hearing somewhere at some time, someone asked a question, and that question was: “Do you think it’s possible to love more than one person at a time?”

When I first heard that question, I had no idea. I had never done anything like that before and so I had no clue and no experience in it. Now I have and now I do. Have experience that is.

Yes, I believe we can. Or at least I can. I can say that I have the capability to love more than one person at a time. Romantic, intimate love. Not just platonic or familial love. So when I “dive in” with a woman, I dive deep. I go all in.

I tried the whole “keep them at an arm’s distance” years ago. I was a robot. And that choice had its consequences. I never let them get close to me so then I couldn’t be hurt. I wouldn’t care. The thing is though, those “relationships” were shallow and two dimensional. They were flat. The women never got to know me, not really, and I never got to know them. It sucked. They never got the “gift of me.” And I never got the “gift of them.” So now I go all in. When my Girl Who Likes Pain had to fly, it hurt. It cut deep. They always do. Even now I’m still processing it. It still hurts. That’s because I cared about her deeply and I miss her. I always do. Miss them. That’s the choice I make and the consequence that I reap. But the greatest, final gift of love that I could give her was to let her go, it was what she needed. And so I did. I let her go.

I’m also about opportunities and I’m open to the next possibility. The night before Thanksgiving I had a new woman come over. I’ll call her “Red and Black.” That’s because she has two-toned red and black hair. Yes, you douchebags who think that multi-colored hair = bad can wring your hands and clutch your pearls and beat your meat over it. Yes she has red flags, a couple of big ones actually. But do you know what? Don’t care, got laid. Red flags are a green light. I’m excited to see if this one goes anywhere. It might, it might not.

The Friday after Thanksgiving and for the next couple of days afterwards, my teacher/belly dancer took me to Wendover. Las Vegas would be Wendover if it was broke, had a tiny population, and was on the verge of bankruptcy. You can taste the desperation and the despair in the air. But it’s a great place for food and debauchery. And that’s what we did for 3 days. Food and debauchery. While the casino/hotel we stayed in left much to be desired, the jacuzzi in the room was decent and the steakhouse was a hidden gem. 10/10 I would go back just for the steakhouse. It’s a bit on the pricey side, but you know where the money went.

The jacuzzi was decent, the mirrors in the room were even better. Turns out that my belly dancer is a bit of a voyeur/exhibitionist. Not as much as I am, but hey, everybody has got to start somewhere. There’s a lot of promise with her. Not enough for me to say goodbye to any other women that show up in my life, but she’s pretty awesome. She’s another soul that believes she can love more than one person at a time and she says that she understands where I’m at. Is she seeing other men? Of course she is. Is she doing the things that she does with me, with them? I have no doubt. I don’t consider myself special or an exception, that’s the way it is. And that’s part of the choices I make and the consequences that I reap. And I’m good with that.

As a side note, if you have the chance to get a woman in a room with mirrors on the wall and the ceiling, I highly recommend that you do. Get her to watch herself in the mirror. Watch her watching herself. It’s hot. It’s like being the director, the star, and the viewer of your own porno. She has already made reservations for another casino/hotel with a better hot tub, mirrors, and whatnot for my birthday in January. Let’s hope that we are still seeing each other by then. Choices and consequences.

So one had to leave, a new one showed up, and one gave me food and debauchery. Choices and consequences. I can live with both. Can you? What choices are you not making because of fear of judgment? What choices do you want to make, but are avoiding because, “what will (insert whatever nonsense here) think? Or do?”

It’s your life, you only get one chance on this ball of rock and water. Choose. And be prepared for the consequences. Be good with them.