First: I'm a happily-married middle-aged man. I wanted to get that disclosure out of the way: None of this pretending to be a hot young hardbody on the prowl. That's not my style.
Second: No, I'm not going to tell you my name. If I actually do what I have planned to do -- if this site becomes what I hope it will -- you'll be learning plenty about who I am, and it'll be easier for all of us if my name isn't on it.
Third: I'm writing to my wife: I'm allowing the rest of you to read over my shoulder.
I considered creating a true pseudonym -- heck, I considered creating a whole alternate persona -- but decided against it. I'm going to be anonymous, yes, but with the purpose of being as honest and (otherwise) open as I know how to be, because I'm going to be saying things I wouldn't want my friends and family to hear me say.
About sex.
It's about sex. Of course it's about sex. Everything is about sex.
Well, okay, not everything. But most of the important things. :)
As we get older, and our lives expand to fill our time, it's easy to put sex off. We have to remind each other that sex is important, that it's worth making time for.
This journal will serve the double purpose of telling my wife what I'm thinking about, what I want, what I don't want, what I miss... and give me a sexual outlet in between.
But then, why go public? And I won't delude myself, putting it on the World Wide Web is public, anonymous or not. I'm no recognized authority with an obligation to share my expertise: No one is demanding that I do this. Why do it?
Because I'm disappointed in the overall nature of sexual dialogue on the web. I find vast throngs of virtual pickpockets, taking advantage of the natural curiosity and sexual interest we're all born with, using titillation to try to separate me from my credit card numbers. On the other hand, there are a few "real people" maturely exchanging information and experiences, and I've learned so much from them that I'd like to give something back.
What I'm giving back is the one unique thing I have: A point of view.
Or, possibly, I'm a latent exhibitionist and this is a baby step down that road. I'll admit, there's a thrill in opening my bedroom door to the virtual world and asking for suggestions. I'm not saying I'll act on all of them, nor promising to tell you all about it if I do. This isn't that kind of website. But I'll consider it.
I shouldn't generalize: I'll admit now that I'm working with limited information, having never paid money to a sex site. All I know is what I can see for free... and what crawls into my mailbox unbidden. Basic marketing implies that what's beyond the pay threshhold is similar to what they give away. And if one makes the mistake of clicking on such a link, one's desktop is quickly inundated by cascading windows, spectacular offers and improbable anatomical combinations.
You'll notice this site is free. No banners, no pop-ups. (Except the one that Tripod insists on in return for hosting it--and as soon as I can afford it, off they will go.) Money isn't the point. I'm writing letters to my wife, which I'm allowing the rest of you to read in service to prurient interest and mutual reassurance.
"Reassurance"?
"Normal" people do think about sex. I find that reassuring. The range that "normal" defines is wider than you think. That's encouraging. And every sex act you've never done is an opportunity to lose your virginity all over again. That's exciting.
Now, that may be promising too much. After all, I don't have any mirrors, chains and trapezes in my bedroom. At least, not yet. (Nor will there ever be a WiredCam.)
Leave comments on what you see here. Especially tell me if any of my facts, statistics or other statements are wrong. I'm looking forward to hearing from you.
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