Controlling Myself

Pandora is screwing around with me today. Everything that plays is a poor excuse for music. Of course I could just be projecting. I’m filled with dissatisfaction. I thought that would change after my hour of personal training with “The Sage” and a half hour of massage late this afternoon. Perhaps tonight, after the Red Bike and Green Ride, Home Grown - Best of the East Bay Party and thePeople’s All Styles Afterparty I'll feel much better.


My dancing will be ambient. That’s how I’m feeling. I’ve been starving for sensual stimulation (all coming to a peak in the past couple of days it seems), and I’ll be telling that story with interpretive dance tonight. Needless to say, I’m rolling solo this evening. Yes, it’s that time. I’ve been running with a posse for several weeks now, and I need some freedom. In the safety of a group, one can only glimpse the mysterious underbelly of nightlife. Last weekend’s underground loft party left me itching to strike out on my own and delve into the depths. The room was filled with beautiful people, all tinted with the familiar tinge of mischief that I so enjoy. I felt confined. It’s not that my friends aren’t fun (and perhaps the best group of friends on this planet), but there are moments when I want to move among the shadows. That’s impossible when I’m “the driver”.

Yesterday, even after my dawn run, bike commute and full productive day at the office, I remained restless. I knew that I couldn’t go dancing because of my obligations at work today, but I needed something more than a cold bed and cartoons. My first thought was to cut to the chase, call someone over to warm the bed for a few hours and then put him back out afterwards. I thought in particular of Secret Squirrel and how he looked at me when we met the other day. Then I thought of Killa B and how candlelight turns his body into a work of art. I managed to shake that off almost as quickly as it came over me. However, to flirt with the possibility, I opted to shoot a few games of pool with him instead. He is the least threatening of the hot men I hang out with. My memories and imagination are stronger determining factors than his intentions. I had those pretty well in check, so I took the chance just for the sheer entertainment and anjoyment of his company. He said, “You like to be pursued”. He was absolutely right. A predator he is not - that is for certain. We ended our outing after four games, I won the first two and he evened up the score on games 3 and 4. I had a moment of waffling afterwards, but as I’ve stated before: Love, then Sex. My own words echoed in my head as I clicked the peg into the lock, closing the door between us and again confirming our platonic status. We'll ride together this evening.

The combination of meat for dinner and cocktails made me sluggish this morning. The fact that my urges remained unfulfilled just compounded the effect. I predict that I will train very hard this weekend to shed these last few pounds of winter insulation, incorporate the additional mileage training schedule for the Nike marathon and (most importantly) keep myself from finding trouble. I always know where to look and I never have to go very far.

I need to keep myself relatively spent. Too tired and I won’t make it out at all, not tired enough and I will either fall prey to the lures of shady characters or become a shady character myself, sniffing the air for the scent of the next unsuspecting victim. I’m getting too old for that life. It was fun in my twenties, but now I just want to have my fun while I’m out and go home to peace and quiet. I haven’t forgotten how to hunt. In fact, I may have already caught an interesting scent. We shall see. A patient hunter doesn’t need to work as hard, and I'm not doing it just to pass the time anymore.