What's a Delmer Look Like?: April 2008 Archives

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April 30, 2008

The Finale

April is National Sexual Assault Awareness and Prevention Month. In order to help the Rape and Incest National Network (RAINN) raise funds so they may offer online counseling to victims of sexual abuse, sexual assault and rape, members of the blogging community have banded together to lend a hand by writing posts of a specific topic. You can read all the details at Kevin Apgar's site.

If you would like to make a donation to RAINN please be sure to put GBBMC2008 and Delmer Wells in the "Include a note to RAINN" box as there is a chance I could win something. (I am less concerned about winning something than I am about helping the organizers be able to track GBBMC2008 donations. So, at least put the GBBMC2008 bit in.)

A friend of mine and his brother lived out in the country. They were 17 and 19 years old or 16 and 18 years old or 17 and 18 … about that age.

Their parents, in their early to mid 40's had suggested the boys collect their girlfriends and bring them back to the house for an evening of home-made ice cream churning and good old-fashioned Christian fun. (You know how I am, but I say "Christian fun" with sincerity.)

The girls, what with it being the country and all, lived a good deal more than a block away and in two different directions. So the boys took separate cars.

My friend arrived back at the homestead first. As he and his girlfriend stood on the back porch he gave the back door a push. It swung open into the kitchen and past his dad's bare ass as he was in the process of giving my buddy's mom a churn on the kitchen table.

"Get back, get back!" he shouted to the girlfriend and tossing a "Get some clothes on," toward his parents pulled the door to.

A moment later his mother opened the back door (no pun intended) and invited my friend and his girlfriend in.

Later in the evening the two young couples had snacks on that same table.

Posted by delmer at 12:00 AM | Comments (4)

April 29, 2008

The Schwinn's Companion Bike

I just bought a new bicycle. It's a Specialized Roubaix Elite and is very nice. It's all carbon fiber with a gray-and-orange paint combination that makes you wonder what the design team was smoking when they drew it out; maybe the color will grow on me. (Really, it's not bad. It just isn't the mostly black with green accents that was The Mighty Schwinn.)

I took it out for a test ride…

Wait, before we go there, let me tell you about the other bike I saw at the bike shop. There was a younger guy, we'll say 24, pushing around something that had once been a 10-speed but was now missing the shifters. I got close and noticed it was a black Schwinn World Sport so I struck up a conversation. By looking at the date stamp on the Schwinn nameplate (something he'd not known about) we determined the bike was built on the 155th day of 1984; making it the older brother of The Mighty Schwinn (also a World Sport and born the 322nd day of 1987). I think we could both sense that my bike was just a little bit sexier.

I took the Roubaix out for a spin — ah, another aside, the sales gal said pan-ee-aye not pan-ear, just like I thought — and ran it over some breaks in the pavement like I run across out in the country. I realize not all cracks are created equal but had I not seen the breaks I never would have known they were there. The ride is that smooth. It will be interesting to see how it handles one of the country roads I frequent that has seen far too much harvester traffic.

Naturally, inasmuch as I have a new toy, it may be days before I'm able to get out and ride it around.

Posted by delmer at 4:07 PM | Comments (5)

Self-Realization

I don't know how other people go about writing their blog entries but, despite the way they sometimes turn out, I often put a fair amount of time into mine. (I originally typed "fair amount of thought into mine" but thought and time are two distinctly different things and time is the much better descriptor.)

I'll typically bounce things around inside my head while I ride the bike or work in the yard or floss or trim my ear hair or whatever.

And it isn't uncommon for me to have several thoughts going on in sequence one after the other* (men, it seems, can't parallel process which is why women will find one boob getting all the attention and then have to do some noggin pushing).

And so it happened that a lot of my RAINN posts took some sort of form over the course of one or two afternoons. These are some of the bits and pieces of things that made it, or almost made it, here:

she led me to the stairs

despite the fact she had friends coming over in about 30 minutes she suggested we go upstairs, so we did

I think I wrestled with an Australian gal once. While I don't remember the details I have a distinct memory of her asking if I wanted to go "upstairs" and I wasn't like me to say "no."

she made a suggestive move that was so direct ... we spent several hours wrestling

she said, "don't move," and I didn't

she said, "I think we should swing by the house, have a quickie, and then get some lunch" which is exactly what we did

After mentally reviewing these bits several times and following a couple of cold showers it occurred to me that I'm easy. If a woman does or says something that seems to be bedroom-oriented, I'm usually on board with it. And I'm not real particular about a bedroom or bed being involved.

Or maybe I just take direction really well.

I don't think I'm necessarily promiscuous, which comes from the Latin words promis (I promise) and cuous (to call you tomorrow), as I think that would suggest having a lot of sex Willy Nilly (which I think would be a great name for a vibrator) and that simply isn't the case as sex applies to me. I've gone for such great lengths of time without having sex that whole epochs have passed. In fact, I'm able to measure the exact amount of sex I had during one period of my life as each sexual outing produced offspring that are now fourteen, twelve and ten.

So, easy, yes. Promiscuous, no.

On second thought, maybe It's not so much that I'm easy… maybe it's just that I'm a guy.

*Yes, I know. One after the other is the definition of in sequence.

Posted by delmer at 7:31 AM | Comments (8)

April 28, 2008

Regrets -- Two

A long, long time ago, I think I was 23 or 24, I found myself wrestling with a cute 20-year old. We had known each other for several years but due to the nature of our relationship, and how snuggling with her would have broken several of the Rules of Dating, we'd never been anything more than acquaintances.

One night she, lacking the compulsion to live by a silly set of dating rules, made a suggestive move that was so direct even I would have had trouble misinterpreting it.

We ended up spending several hours pinning each other before she had to be on her way. (Yes guys … she got up and left. There was none of that hard-to-sleep through post-coital cuddling.*)

We both had a very good time and I don't say that as a guy who thinks he is a very good time regardless of what he does. I say this as a guy who would find himself with the same woman months and months later and who would find that woman unbuttoning his shirt and moving closer in a not-incredibly-private room. Luckily, I say that as a guy who knew where a more-private room was.

In between these two encounters I would see this woman on a regular basis. At least weekly and probably every day for days at a time. We always talked, though not about this, were friendly, and had no awkwardness.

You would think that between the two encounters we might have gotten together a couple of times more.

And the regret here is that I didn't say something like, "When can we do this again?" as she didn't seem put off by the notion of wrestling with me. Especially after the first encounter.

(Regrets are funny though. Had we had sex every night for a month it would just be a memory now. So why fret over it? People are funny.)

[*Gals, the reason a lot of us don't care to cuddle is because when we fall to sleep we become drooling, snoring, farting, lumps and we don't want to expose you to that side of us. It isn't fair to you who, when sleeping, are adorable little packages of cuteness and sweet smells. (I would go so far as to say you are like puppies and scented candles all in one but can't think of a way to express that without conjuring up images of bestiality). As it happens, when I was younger I sent away for a self-study course which trained me to control my nocturnal drooling and farting and as a result have been told, more than once, I'm a pretty good cuddler. You know, once you get past the snoring.]

Posted by delmer at 5:26 PM | Comments (4)

April 27, 2008

Therapeutic Concerns of Abuse

Preface:
Hello readers to WADLL? This is Greeneyezz here. Delmer has been very kind and generous to allow me this wonderful opportunity to be a 'guest writer' on his blog for part of this Sexography 2008, Blogger Book Marketing Campaign. I have thoroughly enjoyed reading some of Delmer's personal Sexcapades, as there have been several times where I could be heard laughing amusingly and I even snorted one time as he talked about how a particular model of Bob might require a footer to be poured. I think he may have the market on humorous sex tales, so I won't even attempt to follow those size 14 footsteps.

For those who may not be aware, I'm a therapist in an out-patient mental health clinic. I work with various issues from a wide variety of people and even wider socioeconomic backgrounds. Because I've had the opportunity to work with several people, both male & female, children, teenagers, and adults, who have been sexually abused or raped, I thought I might be able to offer a perspective from a therapeutic standpoint.
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I've had the opportunity to read a few blogs that speak from personal experience. Karl, from Secondhand Tryptophan and Britt from Miss Britt are two that not only come to mind for me, but are informative, inspiring and very touching. Please take the time to read their stories.

When sitting down to determine what I would include here, I realized there would be no way to write about the many different facets from which I could talk about, regarding abuse. A very daunting task indeed. Below are only just a few, and only the tip of the proverbial Iceberg.

Shame & Guilt
More often than not, survivors of this kind of abuse are often filled with immense feelings of shame and guilt. Some very common thoughts that intrude on them and erode away any feelings of peace, include feeling immense guilt over "not being able to stop the abuse," feeling that "they did something wrong", that it is "somehow their fault", if they only did such and such, then this wouldn't have happened to them, etc. etc. Feelings of being dirty, tainted, and damaged. I've had clients who've used bleach to scrub their skin, all in an effort to "get rid of that dirty feeling."

With their skin often left raw and bleeding, all in an effort to make themselves feel clean again.

All of this guilt and shame is unearned.

All of it.

By far, one of the more damaging forms of guilt and shame and the one that seems to have the tightest hold on a survivor, includes guilt over their own body responding. Sometimes the abuse is not viciously done and the child is seduced. Sometimes their body responds. Sometimes they have even had an orgasm. It is still rape. It is still Sex abuse. It's horrific enough to have a family member or some other person known to the family betray and violate that person's trust, but when their own bodies betray them, that often times creates such a severe internal-conflict with them, that's so very hard to shake.

I bring this up for a few reasons. There seems to be a lot of misconception about this, not only on the survivor's part, but the perpetrator as well as the general public too.

How can it be 'rape' or 'sex abuse' if the victim had been responding sexually?

Very easily.

How many know that if you penetrate a male anally and massage his prostrate, he will automatically have an erection?

Or how about children, both males and females? When thinking of someone who is sexually abusing a child, don't make the mistake and assume that the perp *has to* use brute force or fear to accomplish that. Child sexual grooming is often used to set the stage for abuse.

And in the perp's twisted mind, he will turn it around to say that the victim 'wanted it'.

This form of shame and guilt is very destructive, because it feels like even their own bodies have betrayed them.
But what is oftentimes not clearly understood, is the physiology behind it.

Understanding the physiology of our bodies is crucial to helping to pave the way for these survivors to work through this issue.

Have you ever been pinned down and tickled against your will? Ever have that happen? It makes you laugh. But are you enjoying it?

How about cutting up an onion. Your eyes tear up, right??

You cry when this happens, but does it mean that you really are sad??

Those are both physiological responses to some form of stimulation.

And like the two examples above, having your body respond sexually to a form of stimulation, is also a physiological response.

Nothing more.

Because I sometimes try to provide an experiential component when explaining this concept to others, I often bring in a pungent yellow onion right in my office. My client's age, level of functioning and maturity level and safeness will dictate if I provide them with a serrated knife or a plastic knife. I'll have them cut up the onion right in my office and will talk as this is being done. Inevitably, when the tears start coming, I'll ask if they are crying because they are sad. Of course not, it's the onion that is making them cry. This obviously leads into a discussion of physiology and how our body responds to different stimuli.

Dissociation
As with many traumatic experiences, our minds often react in such a brilliant fashion when we struggle to wrap our minds around something horrific. It's a protective factor for us when thoughts, memories, or emotions become too overwhelming for us to deal with and integrate into our own lives. On a severe form, dissociation, or a "splitting off" of that experience is almost necessary for them to survive. There are survivors of both Rape and sexual abuse who often talk about experiencing strong feelings of them "leaving their body" when they were being abused/raped. Many have reported to me feeling like they had risen above and were looking down on them and the abuser, as it was taking place. Think of it as a severe form of denial. Many of you probably have experienced a much diluted form of that already. Ever been given terrible news, like someone close to you dying? Do you remember what you first felt? Did it feel "unreal" to you, like it was a dream, or it wasn't really you that it was happening to?? That's Depersonalization and De-realization happening, both of which are features of dissociation. Many people reported feeling like that when 9/11 had first occurred, and these were people no where near New York.

When working with survivors of this kind of abuse, one feature of this symptom seems to be the high threshold for pain. Unusually high. I've had people describe incidents of severe abuse, things that have made my own skin crawl, and they do that with the same emotional intensity of reading the Wall Street Stock Quotes. Completely detached from the emotional pain of it, as if it was happening to someone else, not them.

A high threshold for physical pain is also quite prominent, because there needs to be a separation or dissociation of their body from the rest of them, in order to survive.

For this, I'll often recommend they attend yoga or other mind/body class like Tai Chi, which both serve to help reconnect themselves to their body.

Sexual abuse and Rape destroys trust. Not only trust in other people, but trust in one's own self, their ability to discern for themselves, who is trustworthy and who is not. Who is safe. And who is not.

It also can destroy a person's sense of self-worth. They are often left with feelings of inadequacy, "un-worthiness," and an overall feeling of being "damaged goods." There's a correlation between those who've been abused and their tendency to abuse drugs and alcohol. Self-medicate so they don't have to feel. Don't have to remember. Don't have to think.

For anyone who might be in treatment with me and may be struggling with their own personal demons related to abuse, whether Sexual, Physical, Emotional, or Verbal, I might, at some point in treatment, pull out a $1.00 bill and ask you if you were offered this, no strings attached, would you want it?

Most likely, you would say "yes".

I would then crumple that dollar bill and ask if you would want it then?

You would most likely say "yes".

I would then throw it on the ground, step all over it, and kick it across the room. I might even rip it in two.

I again would ask you if you would want it?

And again, you would most likely say "yes, I would still want it."

I'd ask you why? Why would you still want it, after it's been crumpled up, tossed on the ground, walked all over and kicked around until it was ripped up, would you still want it?

Your response would most likely be something along the line of, "It's still a dollar bill. It still has value and importance. It's value would not ever be diminished because of what was done to it. It's still wanted. The value has not changed or been diminished in any way."

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Post Script:
**The picture at the top is one that I took in my office. They are anatomically-correct therapeutic dolls, used for diagnosing and treatment of Childhood Sexual Abuse. They have anuses, the males have a penis, scrotum, pubic hair, hair under their arms, and nipples. The females also have an anus, vagina, and breasts. Both have tongues that come out of their mouths, and their fingers can be bent and hold a shape.

And they are a useful tool, when a child has been acting out (read: re-enacting the original trauma) sexually.

I've often said that "Therapy is not for the faint of heart," and I still stand by that statement. It takes a HUGE amount of courage and inner strength to take an honest look into ourselves.

If you have been sexually abused or raped, and have kept quiet about it, please understand that there is help for you. RAINN can definitely help.

© 2008 Greeneyezz

Posted by delmer at 7:50 PM | Comments (8)

April 26, 2008

A Funny Quick One

And this might be one of those things that is funny only if you were there.

She weighed just under 99 pounds and I came in right at 215. We were both in our 20s which is only important to know from the position of flexibility; and I suppose that isn't necessary for this story at all now that I think about it.

We were in a bed doing that thing that the Missionaries made famous as they were bounding around the country whenever it was they were bounding.

As we were boinking I noticed we were moving up and across the bed a little bit. Some math (I turn to math when I'm trying to stretch things out as thinking of baseball just doesn't work for me — I only go to sleep faster) suggested that our current rate of progress coupled with my 20-something level of stamina was going to put her head into the wall right where two of them met.

In the end, but that's a whole other blog post, she had to cock her neck just a little bit a bit before we finished.

At which point she said: Well, it looks like we fucked ourselves into a corner.

Posted by delmer at 9:08 AM | Comments (7)

Dreaming of Bloggers

The last two nights I've dreamed of other bloggers.

Wednesday night I dreamed about New York City Watchdog. I'd say I've just come across his blog recently, NYCW is going to Tequilacon and I've been reading the blogs of the attendees, but I'd actually stumbled across it at some point in the past as I remembered his cartoon character.

Anyway, in the dream I'd left a comment and he'd replied. His reply was, "You need to install an installer." This was put in the context of a Linux computer and made some sense in the dream.

Awake, it's sort of hard to tie together, though I've been working on a Linux box and having trouble getting a cron job to run (the solution came to me as I drove to lunch Friday). And of course, there's the Windows Installer.

Thursday night I dreamed about Kazaa, who happens to be getting married today and is unlikely to see this post. In the dream a car had broken down on a long stretch of road. Kazaa was driving and when I went to help said she needed to get to Adelaide.

What's odd is that if Thursday morning you'd asked me to name all the Australian cities I could I never would have come up with Adelaide. I'd have been able to give you Perth, Sydney (with two 'y's), Canberra, Young (they have, or had, a pet store/porn shop) Kalgoorlie and Melbourne.

Searching Kazaa's site turns up Adelaide in 2005 and 2003. I knew how to spell Adelaide without looking it up, so I've seen it and somehow remembered it.

So, why Kazaa? I'm reading Bill Bryson's "In a Sunburned Country" which is about Australia (I'll bet he mentions Adelaide in the book). Thursday morning I was at McDonald's and came across a story about the World's Lego Building Champion and held on to it so I could comment about it to Kazaa (she's a pretty good Lego builder herself). Thursday night I was catching up on my blog reading, noticed the Kazaa's site doesn't update in my reader and felt guilty for not having read her for a while; she was one of the first blogs I read and one of the first to comment on my blog.

Posted by delmer at 12:24 AM | Comments (1)

April 25, 2008

blah blah blah

This will not be the hardest thing I've ever typed. That would be "Kalgoolrie" which is so hard to type that even as I express the typing challenge it provides I screw it up; a Google search suggests it's "Kalgoorlie." And I felt compelled to type it the other day in a comment at Michael Gorey's site. (It comes up in Bill Bryson's "In a Sunburned Country," Michael lives there, and it's one of those words that makes you wonder what the people were trying to spell before they said, "screw it… that's good enough." I'm not picking, I love things like this… Maidenhead in the UK… Big Bone Lick, Kentucky… Intercourse, Pennsylvania, etc. I believe Kalgoorlie might be derived from an Aboriginal word or phrase which gives it some character while Big Bone Lick is so named as it is the porn capital of the south.(Kalgoorlie is derived from a Wangai word and has about 2000 more people living in it than the town I live in. Wangai has an interesting look all its own if you think like a 14-year old boy.) )

This will likely be uncomfortable for me. So much that I've typed up a whole paragraph of something unrelated to sit above it. So much that I'll post something about my new clipless pedals right after this to give me a sense of distance. Yes, I know, I'm only fooling myself but it will make me feel better.

** I typed all of that yesterday and then went to bed.**

Today I, coincidentally, met with a psychologist to go over a battery of tests I took earlier in the week. Without getting into all the details I was curious to see if I had ADD. As it happens, I do not have ADD or any other cognitive dysfunction though I sometimes tend to "overincorporate." That is, I have trouble proceeding with a project as I always want a bit more information before continuing. This is something I've known about myself for a while and that I've been working on (I didn't know what to call it, however).

[When the doc told me this I thought it gave me the opportunity to ask if the thing that kept me out of a Bell Tower was not being sure I had the best rifle at hand as maybe there was part of me sure that a new and better scope was just around the corner. He seemed positive that there was more than indecision over equipment outfitting that kept me from getting all Bob Lee Swagger on the local community.]

I also found out that my self-esteem is pretty well in tact. I've sort of known this too. I mean, I think I'm a good person.

However.

I spend a lot of time wondering what is wrong with me as it applies to relationships with women. In the past I've thought I might be afraid of rejection but, really, I'm not. I am very good with "no" and freely accept the notion that everybody is not right for everybody else.

It seems, however, that anything other than "no" sort of screws with me.

A long time ago, back in college, I asked a woman out every week for a month. She was always busy, but never said she didn't want to go out. That is, until week four when she said, "Delmer, I just don't want to go out with you." When I asked why she hadn't said that the first week she told me she didn't want to hurt my feelings. I said, in a very friendly manner, "You wouldn't have hurt my feelings, you'd have just saved both of us some time."

Fast forward some years, post divorce. I had dinner with a woman and we sat and talked for four hours. She could have gotten up and left at any time during the four hours. When dinner was over I asked if she'd like to get together again she said something like, "That would be nice though I don't know how easy it will be to work around our childrens' schedules."

And this left me to sort out what she meant. "Yes" would have been fine. "No" would have been clear. The bit involving children tossed me. As I was reluctant to fall into the trap of being put off week after week by a woman who didn't know how to say "no" initially, I didn't call her again. Even after I found out she'd made inquiries about me I wasn't inclined to take that chance; I mean, who knows what she wanted?

About this same time in my life I had dinner with another woman (you know how it is when you're divorced … everybody knows somebody they want you to meet). She seemed nice enough and we talked about getting together again. I called a week later, give or take, to see if she wanted to get together the next Saturday. She had a prior commitment that involved some sort of Ohio State University sports thing — I'm sorry I can't be any clearer on this, but you know how I am with sports — and wasn't free then. She suggested I could call her later but I wasn't sure that hadn't been said out of reflex; it happens in sitcoms all the time. So, I didn't call back.

When you get right down to it, I guess I just I don't want to be a bother.

[I remember being in 10th grade English class and the teacher asking if guys would rather have a girl tell them something nice like, "I've got to wash my hair that night" or something simple like "no" when they didn't want to go out with a guy. Even then I fell into the "no" camp.]

I've had other thoughts involving my shyness around women. And it may be shyness, I haven't sorted it all out yet.

I used to think it was caused by this…

In first grade I sent a little girl a note that said, "I love you" and she ratted me out to the teacher. It was humiliating. It was also 41 years ago; don't you think I'd have gotten over it by now? Wait, I'd almost forgotten! I didn't tell anybody I loved them for a good long time after that. I remember my sister telling me she loved me and actually choking as I returned the sentiment. I was about 21 then. Maybe 23.

(For the record, I tell my boys I love them each and every day.)

And, of course, getting divorced sucked royally too. (You know, if I were British I think I'd say, "sucked royalty" and eventually shorten it simply to "Camilla.")

And, of course, getting divorced Camilla'd.

Dammit! Where was I going? I had the tying it all together part right at the tips of my fingers. God, I hate it when this happens. It always means I have to read the whole thing again and try to sort out where I was going.

What have we got so far?

~~Kalgoolrie~~ ~~Lakoo~~ ~~Kalgoorlee~~ Big Bone Lick
Battery of tests
Women are confusing
Little girls are evil
Camilla gave Prince Charles a Lewinsky
A bulleted list

Ah yes.

We had something I typed and then erased as I was uncomfortable with it.

Though, basically, I seem to be the sum of my past interactions with women.

But never a bother.

Posted by delmer at 9:23 PM | Comments (7)

April 24, 2008

The Mighty Schwinn may be retired

I'm considering replacing The Mighty Schwinn. She's twenty this year and I think I've gotten my money out of her. Per the stamp on the logo badge The Mighty Schwinn was built the 322nd day of 1987; I probably bought her in the spring of 1988 then.

I've hesitated replacing (I refuse to say "upgrading." This is a bicycle, not a wife.) as I approach riding the bike as an exercising activity. I figure if my Picture 006-1c bike is a little harder to get going then I'm probably getting a little bit more in the way of conditioning out of it. The other day it hit me that if output is measured in watts and I'm putting forth X watts then I'd likely continue to put forth X watts on a new bike… I'd just get a little more out of my effort, I'd have newer components, and I might be sitting atop something that doesn't telegraph every bump and jar into my numbing hands.

So, I've started to do some research.

I'm a little taller than most other riders (heavier too, but I imagine almost any frame will support me) and want to make sure I find a bike that's a good fit. Tuesday night I was at the Columbus Outdoor Pursuits ride and started looking at what other people were riding. As I looked around I saw a fairly tall guy, someone I thought was taller than I am, and decided to walk over to see what sort of bike he had.

As I got closer I could see that he was, in fact, several inches taller than me… and, that he was riding the same exact bike I was. Same color, same year. And with a kickstand.

"You might have one of the best looking bikes here," I said.

"It's a hand-me-down. My dad had it," he told me. Which made sense. And I'm sure his dad put the kickstand on the bike as that was not standard equipment.

The guy was 6'8" and had been looking around for tall bikes. He hadn't found anything yet and I suspect his search will be a bit more trying than mine.

In other news I've also purchased a new pair of Pearl Izumi shorts. They are one of the nicer pair I've purchased and will replace the Nashbar house-brand that are two years old. I figure I ride enough to buy better gear. I've also wearing better gloves; I'd thought that numb hands were just part of riding — I may have been wrong.

Posted by delmer at 12:39 PM | Comments (9)

April 23, 2008

Regrets - One

Way way way back, and really, I mean a good long time ago, we had gone to her house while her parents weren't home.

She might have had a sun dress on. Would that have been like a short skirt?

We were in her kitchen and rubbing noses a little bit and I started to make a move that led her to say, "Oh!… you're going to be super boyfriend."

This move required her to sit down and for me to be on my knees.

After an amount of time that she indicated was adequate by way of a little bit of hip thrusting, heavy breathing, moaning and the vocalized "wait" that always suggests things are all of a sudden super sensitive, I moved up and gave her a little kiss on the neck.

Still breathing heavily and with her lips on my ear she breathily said, "I want you."

STOP here.

Because I want you to consider what you might have said or done in a similar situation. When you have an answer continue to the extended entry to read what I said or did.

And what I said was: "This is not the best time."

Or "The time is not right."

Or something just as stupid.

We were in an empty house. She was worked up and suggesting she might want to do something to… um… help me out. AND I had a pretty good idea what she meant.

And I said, "The time is not right" because I was afraid her parents might come home. She wasn't concerned and she knew their habits better than I did.

Oh, I called this entry Regrets - One. I'll leave it to you to guess the regret.

Posted by delmer at 11:14 PM | Comments (3)

The Ohio Troopers Coalition has a funny smell

I received a call from a number my caller ID couldn't ID. Against my better judgment I picked it up, gave a quick "Hello," just in case anybody was there, and was about to hang up when a voice came on the line.

The gal calling identified herself as a representative for the Ohio Troopers Coalition and under some questioning told me that 100% of my donation would go to help trooper's causes and that she wouldn't need a credit card right now but would be happy to send me a donation form in the mail.

I can't remember if the gal told me they were all volunteers. That sounds right as it would go along with the 100%-to-the-charity idea they were promoting and would be something she could have said to make that more believable… but I won't swear to it. She did tell me they were not professional fundraisers and that she worked for the OTC; I specifically asked that question.

Anyway, too many people in the past have said 15% goes to the charity when they called so I thought 100% was a pretty good deal. I said I'd give $20.00. She transferred me to another gal.

This gal started telling me about what they were going to send me in the mail, which I really didn't need to hear, and asked me for two additional dollars (for some special need and I was happy to give it) and then for a credit card to authenticate? verify? something my donation. (Basically they wanted to make sure they got my money.)

I told gal 2 that gal 1 had said I wouldn't need to give out my credit card info. Gal 2 then restated I'd be getting something in the mail in a couple of days and asked if they could they count on me to mail my check as soon as their literature got to me.

I assured her I'd drop something in the mail the afternoon their stuff arrived.

It will not be a check, however, but a copy of this which suggests that gal 1 was about 94% off in her estimation of what goes to charities.

You know, as I reread that it dawns on me that she may not have been lying. I believe she said she worked for OTC, and that 100% of donations went to OTC which worked to help Trooper's causes. I took from this that 100% of what I gave went to charities, but I don't think I asked what percentage of my donation would go to a charity... I asked what percentage does the Ohio Troopers Coalition get, thinking that was enough.

Well, it was certainly misleading and I don't think it was by accident.

(And, yes, I am on the no-call list.)

Update: I just reread the Dispatch Article. I'd glazed over this the first time:

The company misled potential donors into thinking that all money given to the Ohio Troopers Coalition would go toward charitable works by using a legal sleight of hand: the fundraisers were classified as employees of the coalition, said Jason Small, the assistant attorney general who filed the case.

Posted by delmer at 12:11 PM | Comments (4)

April 22, 2008

The First Time

I lost my virginity in October of 1981. It was a Friday or Saturday night and toward the end of the month. As my birthday is in August, I would have been 21.

I've no idea how I ended up at a Halloween party after work and it isn't because alcohol was involved. I've just no memory of it. And honestly, as I consider that, I'd get out of work between one and two a.m. so I couldn't have very well gone to a party then. And I would have smelled like pizza, sweat, and cleaning products which goes a long way toward undoing a fair amount of about-to-get-laidness.

I was starting to doubt the year, since I wasn't sure I was still making pizzas in October of 1981, when it dawned on me that I'd quit making pizzas just before spring break.

Anyway, I think my buddy Ken called to tell me about a party. Another buddy, Tom was with me and we may have been working together that night; he decided to go with me. And I'm going to go with the thought that I was at work when I got the call and that Tom and I busted our asses to get out of work more toward one than two.

I remember the name of the street but not the girl's name so much. Wait, I do, but I'm not going to type it.

She was also dressed as a cat and I have a memory of going as a Pizza Chef.

Oh. What else do I remember?

She was older, perhaps 24 or 25, and a brunette.
I think one of the reasons she wrestled with me is that she knew I was a virgin (who knows how things like that come up?) and there was the, you know, novelty of that.
She didn't take her cat leotard totally off and when I asked about it she pointed out that having one leg free was plenty. Who was I to argue? I was new to the whole thing.
It didn't last what I, or anybody with any sense of things temporal, would call a long time.
As short as it was my buddy Tom walked in on us.
Twice.

Hey, maybe that's why it didn't last so very long.

Maybe not.

Anyway, as I recall, my bare butt was in the air and Tom opened the door. "Hey Delmer… did you call my mom?" he asked.

"Yes," I screamed. "Now get out of here!" And he did.

Just a second passed before he opened the door again. "What'd she say?"

"She said you could spend the night! Now get out of here!"

"I don't think this is going to work," said the cat.

Happily, as I got a blog post out of it, she was willing to put a few more minutes into the process.

Why not? She already had one leg out her leotard.

A few moments later, and I swear it was by accident, I walked in on Tom and a female person.

Posted by delmer at 10:25 PM | Comments (1)

I've seen this elsewhere

And wanted to have one of my own.

Your Slogan Should Be

Delmer. It's What's for Dinner.

The Slogan Generator

For the record, I'm available for dinner most nights. Every other week I'll be bringing three additional diners with me.

Posted by delmer at 3:34 PM | Comments (8)

Parenthetical Phrases

You know how you'll be out and about. Maybe at a McDonald's having breakfast, trying to read a Bill Bryson book off your PDA, and someone will whip out a cell phone and start talking into it as if they're the only person on the planet aside from, we'll assume, the person on the other end of the line. Which is not so much a line as a digital signal, but you get my point.

I've often thought this was rather rude behavior and have wondered what makes people think it's right. I'm guessing that sometimes a person may not realize just how loud he is but even then he must know that the people around him are getting just half the conversation and are having a hard time keeping up with whats going on.

Trust me, if you are a woman, we want to know if your friend brought the lace bra or a bra made of something else and I'm really stuck for a comparison material here which I suppose isn't important as I was more concerned with how this thought would end than the middle parts. Starting over and making it up as I go: if you are a woman, we want to know if your friend brought the lace bra or the spandex bra and if, in fact, it pushes her boobs up and makes them look bigger.

If you're a guy maybe some of us would like to know the score of the Cleveland game as well and whether or not your buddy thinks beer prices will go up when the Indians move to the new stadium.

Keeping those informational tidbits to yourself gives the conversation you're having and air of I don't give a shit about this could you please shut the hell up to the rest of us.

Allowing people to hear just one side of a conversation is the rudest part of that behavior. At least that's what I thought.

And I was wrong.

Today at McDonald's I had the opportunity to hear both sides of a conversation. Not because some goofball was talking loudly into a cell phone and using a Marshall Stack Amp as a speaker, but because there were two guys sitting at Micky D's about six table apart and carrying on a conversation as if they were the only two remaining people alive in the world.

Both guys were in their 60's and seemed to be discussing world politics. I didn't catch everything they said which is to say I was unsuccessful at blocking out all but about 50% of their conversation. (Bryson is in Australia and I'm trying to get to the point where something undoubtedly bites and kills him, not because I wish him any ill will but because I'm eager to see if the writer that finishes the book shares his writing style. I'm hoping it's an Australian stripper; I don't care if she's the thing that bites and kills him or if she's the person who finishes writing the book.)

In trying not to eavesdrop I learned that Iraq has shitloads of money in the bank — so much in fact that they bundle it tightly together and use it to make bricks for new construction — while we are spending a fortune on this war. And that 94 is torn up and has been for three years and it's taking forever for them to finish that project.

Those two stories seem to be unrelated and the topic appeared to have shifted when I got up to get a pop refill. (And that's another thing I like about Bill Bryon books. He says "pop." I'll bet he says "tennis shoes" as well. And probably "too" instead of "as well.") Iraq lacks anything in the way of a "94" designation though Ohio has I-94 somewhat north of where I'm now sitting.

Both guys were actively talking. It isn't like one was talking and the other was throwing polite, "Mmm hmms" at him. They were both engaged in the conversation.

I'm not bitching about the fact that old men will drone on about anything. I will likely be an old man someday and in preparation for this I keep a list of old-man topics in my wallet (as you can see I'm prepared should my memory start to fade.)

In no particular order the list contains: Patricia Heaton, Courney Thorne-Smith, Jamie Gertz (assuming the gals hold up into their latter years), what a dickweed Bush was/is (I'm prepared should Jena Bush take the reigns someday), the air of respectability Jena has restored to the White House (should former porn star Jena Jamison someday take the reigns), etc.

At the end of my list is a little parenthetical phrase: Sit no farther than three feet from anyone you are blathering on with.

Everyone should have such a phrase.

Posted by delmer at 7:58 AM | Comments (4)

April 21, 2008

RAINN Update

I'd sort of rethought the posting of the Sexography items and considered cutting back on them and removing some I'd put up when May came around. This idea hit me when I was working out in the garage yesterday as I was afraid I might be offending some of the women readers. And I'm sort of a prude, kind of. Sometimes.

Anyway, I mentioned this to a couple of women friends who are readers and who do not seem to be offended in the least. They thought it was sort of odd I'd consider removing things. Among their thoughts were that I've been posting for three years and in that time I've posted far more offensive things than the recent bits about oral sex and what not. (Those may not have been their actual words or, even, anything close to what they said.)

Anyway, if you're thinking of Donating to RAINN, the time is right, per this mail I received:

Double Your Donation to RAINN in April!

In honor of Sexual Assault Awareness & Prevention Month any online gift to RAINN during the month of April will be matched, dollar for dollar, up to $25,000! You can take advantage of this opportunity to help victims of sexual assault by donating today through our secure website or by hosting a RAINNMaker event.

To learn more about becoming a RAINNMaker, event ideas, and to create your own RAINNMaker profile, visit: http://rainnmakers.rainn.org/.

Posted by delmer at 9:08 PM | Comments (1)

Near Misses -- Massachusetts

Once day, a long time ago when I lived in Massachusetts, I found myself with a woman… oh, about midday.

We'd just come in from lunch and as we entered my living room she sort of led me toward the stairs.

The bottom landing was put together in such a manner that if a person were so inclined, she could sit on the steps and look another person, assuming he was about six feet four inches tall, right in the crotch. The woman involved either knew this in advance or made a lucky guess as the really awesome and super cool thing that happened next seemed to go along quite well as if, perhaps, she'd planned it ahead of time.

As a matter of fact, from start to finish, there was only a brief break in the action and that was when she looked up to provide verbal assurance that should I be worried that something which might eventually happen be off-putting to her that I should not let it trouble me in the least.

Which was just as well as I had something else to worry about.

As awesome and super cool as this was (well, super-duper cool, what with the verbal assurance I'd just been given) I couldn't help but be concerned that someone might walk in on us. My mother, for example, who I knew was coming to visit that afternoon.

Anyway, just a moment after the thing happened that the verbal assurance suggested would be OK to happen, and mere seconds after zippers were zipped and buttons buttoned, the back door opened and a "Yoo hoo… is anybody home" signaled the arrival of my mom.

It's very likely she brought some groceries with her.

I honestly can't recall what led to the treat on the stairs. I wish I could as I'd do what I could to set that chain of events in motion more often. Unfortunately, and women will back me up on this, any time a man ejaculates it erases a portion of his memory starting from the first "yip" he makes and moving backwards anywhere from 10 minutes to 24 hours. This is why guys have as much trouble as they do remembering things like a woman's name; it's not their fault, it's biology.

And so, I'm left without a clear memory of all that happened prior to midday. It may have involved Cuban food. Who knows?

Posted by delmer at 5:43 PM | Comments (0)

Clipless

Samson had First Reconciliation this past Saturday. For the non-Catholic among you, that would be his first confession.

He was just the smallest bit worried about it but after his mother and I explained it was sort of like testing the confessional waters — that is, he didn't have to be perfect — he chilled some. And really, he's 10. What type of sins can he have? I know that when he's with me he's pretty good and I doubt his mother is taking him to titty bars. (But I don't know, I've got to say the separation/divorce caught me off guard.)

It had been my hope to put something close to 80 miles on The Mighty Schwinn this weekend and was tickled to see the sun shining early Saturday morning. It shone throughout Samson's First Reconciliation and through the paying of the check for the celebratory late lunch. It started raining as I walked home from Otie's (and continued to rain until evening.)

I've recently considered getting a Pannier, which I think is pronounced pah-knee-ay though I've been assured it's pan-ear, and thought I'd shoot off to the bike shop to see what was available; it was raining after all. There are three bike shops around me that are likely to have panniers for sale. One of them has an attractive blond woman, who is old enough that I don't feel bad acknowledging the fact that she's attractive, working there and that's where I decided to go. (Simply because if a bike shop is going to go out of business because they've fallen $50.00 shy in sales I don't want it to be the one with the cute blond.)

20-5085-shoes-SI Without going into all the details let me just say I never got Panniers. Instead I got clipless pedals, and shoes.

One of the reasons I've put off going clipless is that I wear a size 14 shoe and wasn't sure I'd be able to find a pair big enough for my feet. The largest shoe the bike shop had was a 48 which translates to a 13.5 and is just right. It seems that what cycling lacks in the way of consistency when it comes to jersey sizes — I once bought an Italian XL that would have been tight on my 10-year old — they make up for with their variety in shoe sizes; it's not often I see 1/2 sizes past 11.5.

Another reason I've not gone clipless is that I'm a grumpy old man who hates change. (And I have a biomechanical worry. But simply saying that would deny me the fun of the grumpy old man comment.)

Oh, by the way, I saw the attractive blond and we had a lively conversation that started, "May I help you," and ended with "If you have any other questions, let me know." (For the record, they do not have unpadded Lycra shorts nor do they have tall jerseys.)

So, $200 later and still without pah-knee-ays or pan-ears I headed home.

Fast forward to Sunday evening and I'd put the pedals on the bike, the cleats on the shoes, the shoes on my feet, and I was sitting on the bike balanced in a doorway and practicing snapping in and out of the pedals. After a few adjustments I was ready for the road where things went swimmingly until I came to the first right turn and noticed huge, dark gray storm clouds (that still, five hours later, have produced shit in the way of rain or lightening) and figured I should cut the ride short.

So the goal of 80 miles was reduced to an output of five.

The short mileage today didn't bother me. I'm pretty sure it's best to have some short outings to check for things like knee pain. As it is, I'm pretty sure the right cleat needs some adjustment so my toe can point out a bit.

And it was five miles in which I didn't find myself unable to unclip and falling over.

Posted by delmer at 12:06 AM | Comments (4)

April 20, 2008

Shirts

Tequilacon is coming up in a couple of weeks and in preparation I ordered a couple of shirts from Land's End. In order to make them super geeky I had delmer.com embroidered on each one — above the pocket on one shirt and on the left sleeve of the other (as I'm a Democrat). I paid an extra five bucks which I thought was pretty reasonable.

They arrived in the mail on several days ago.

As I was driving the eldest boy home from track practice I told him about the shirts and the ordering process.

"Wait," he said, stopping me. "You bought a couple of polo shirts and had delmer.com put on them so you could wear them to Philly to meet with a bunch of other people that write blogs?"

"Well, yea."

"Dad," he said, drawing it out so that it was more like daaaaad!, "You've got to get a life!"

Given the way the conversation turned out I wasn't sure telling him that going to Philadelphia was an attempt at having a life.

Posted by delmer at 1:14 AM | Comments (5)

April 19, 2008

We know how you are

It has occurred to me that I have enough posts that I think fit the Sexography category that I might be able to do one a day until the end of the month. One of the benefits of this is that should I decide they are more inappropriate than the normal fare here they'll be easy enough to find.

It also occurs to me that as you read through them you might be left with the thought that I pretty much have sex all the time. When I was younger my sister-in-law asked me about a sleeping bag that was in the back of the car I most often drove. I told her it wasn't mine and when I went on to ask why in the world would I have a sleeping bag in the back of my van she politely and without any malice said, "Well, we know how you are."

Which led me to wonder how having a sleeping bag in the back of my van could possibly express my terror of women.

And, oddly enough, this was not the first time that topic had come up right around that time in my life. Just a week before I'd had a similar conversation with another relative, I think my mother, in which she'd said something (again without malice) that suggested she too thought I jumped from bed to bed.

The two events, so close together, made me wonder where people got their ideas and, as I really hated to be a disappointment to them, what I could do to be the person they thought I was.

That last part isn't really true. But I did think it would be novel to have been living the life people thought I was.

I was about 24 when all of this was going on.

I always had a lot of friends who were women and I'm sometimes curious about which ones my relatives thought I was snuggling up with.

Anyway, to get back to the main point of the this entry, while there may be a fair number of Sexography posts the next week or so I'm not trying to create the illusion that I have or have had a life filled with sexual encounter after sexual encounter. It's been a good long time since I've done any wrestling with a woman and if by some odd alignment of the stars I end up cuddling with anybody before the end of the year, well, nobody will be more surprised than I.

Oh, I could drone on and on in this manner but I'm not sure what good it would do either of us. Please, just keep in mind that I'm not bragging about my good fortune in Sexography entries. I'm just pointing out the more interesting things that happened.

Well, I've got a mini van full of sleeping bags to unpack.

Later.

Posted by delmer at 2:20 PM | Comments (2)

This was a new one

Last night I was at a very nice restaurant in Columbus. The only reason that is important is because sometimes your nicer restaurants have nicer paper towels in the bathroom. As did this one.

There was a younger guy ahead of me as we both headed toward the men's room. He had a shaved head and was holding a cell phone to his left ear with his left hand.

Pay attention.

When we stepped into the men's room he paused at the sink and picked up two of the very nice paper towels. He carried these in his right hand as he took position at the second urinal in this two-urinal men's room. I took urinal one which meant as we faced the wall I was to his left.

His phone never left his left hand or it's position at his left ear.

A moment after we took our spots in front of our respective urinals he ran his right hand across his shaved head.

Questions:

What did he need the paper towels for?
How did he managed to so quickly undo his pants, pull his tool out, and start the stream when his hand was holding paper towels?
Where did the paper towels go?

I used my peripheral vision to the limits of its specs and wasn't able to get clues to any of these questions.

Did he ball the towels up and place them between his shaft and testicles? Sort of as a prop so he could pee hands-free and rub his head? Did he drop them in the urinal and pee on them?

Maybe he gets a bad case of the post-piss dribbles and wanted to be prepared.

I'd never seen anything like it and I've been peeing in public restrooms for decades.

Posted by delmer at 7:19 AM | Comments (3)

April 18, 2008

I'm Awake

At 5:40 this morning I was awakened by a happy dog jumping up on my bed and sniffing around. They were quick, short sniffs and the bed was vibrating slightly as if his tail were going back and forth rapidly.

There's nothing wrong with this, except I don't own a dog and I don't have a dog visiting.

Awake, I leaned up in bed listening to the sniffing and trying to sort it out. It could have been rain lightly falling. I even made sure I was awake and that the bed was still slightly vibrating in a happy-dog way; it seemed to be and I keened my ear for the sound of things rattling against the wall in the manner of a small earthquake. Or maybe something slightly swaying back and forth on the wall in a way that would make a sniffing-dog noise.

And I got up. There was no rain falling. I've checked online news and nothing yet about earthquakes.

I don't know what it was.

I refuse to believe that after 2.5 years in this house it's suddenly haunted by a happy dog.

Hey, just as I was getting ready to post this I did one more check.

Earthquake!

Posted by delmer at 5:52 AM | Comments (8)

Near Misses -- The JWs

Oh, it's been a while ago now, but one Christmas eve I got a visit from a couple of Jehovah Witness ladies. They'd parked across the street in an area that wasn't really a parking lot but, you know, when you're doing God's work you can't be bothered with things like where to appropriately leave a car.

They toddled across the street and up to my front door which they gave a light rap. I knew who they were before I answered and had already formed two thoughts before I'd opened the door.

The second thought was, "I wonder if I give them $5.00 for one of their books if I'll be able to get them on their way any faster." I'd had Jehovah's take an aggressive approach in their presentation during prior encounters and really wasn't in the mood.

My first thought was, "If they'd only been five minutes earlier they could have caught me fornicating right in the living room and wouldn't that be a nice story to take back to the Kingdom Hall."

Oh… and $5.00 seems like the right amount to get them off your stoop.

A friend reports the following works as well, and I think I've blogged about it before: He had a mother/daughter team that refused to take "no thank you, I'm not interested" as an answer to their repeated attempts to engage him in conversation about his religious beliefs. He finally said, "I've told you 'no thank you' three times. Now, unless the two of you are interested in coming in for a three-way, I've got better things to do." As it happens, a three-way did not interest them. Though, that was likely a good story to take back to the Kingdom Hall.

[I'm not picking on the JW's. I don't want anybody stopping by my house to save me. I'm happy in my beliefs and will meet you in Heaven.]

Posted by delmer at 12:39 AM | Comments (0)

April 17, 2008

A buddy told me this story

Many, many, many moons ago a buddy of mine told me a story. He's not one to say cunnilingus, and I'm not one to say eating pussy in actual context. I'm not kidding when I say things like that; I honestly cringed a bit when I wrote those words — I believe I've mentioned in the past that my inability to talk dirty was one of the things that made my career in porn so short lived. I'll leave it to you to make the language substitution.

"The other night," he told me, "We were in bed and I was performing cunnilingus on Carol. I just knew I was driving her crazy. When I looked up" and his voice became very matter-of-fact here, "she was watching TV and eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich."

How, I wondered, do you not notice when a woman gets up and makes a sandwich before returning to the bed? Had she brought a loaf of bread and a Jar of Jif to bed with her?

As you can imagine, alcohol played a big role in their evening prior to either's midnight snack.

Posted by delmer at 6:09 PM | Comments (4)

Blood Work Update

There may be only one or two of you who will appreciate the disappointment I've had the last couple of days. I had blood drawn a week ago and it came back with a prolactin level of 8.4 whereas it had been, I thought, 7.0 the last time. This was with a meds reduction going from .25 mg on Sundays and Thursdays to just .25 mg on Thursdays. The 8.4 level is still within range, and by a good margin, I'm just of the mindset that lower is better with respect to testosterone levels, though I don't know for sure. I may have higher T levels than ever even with my prolactin up a little; I'd be surprised if that were the case.

Anyway, I just went to update the Hormone Table and found I'd misremembered the last level. It had been 8.0, not 7.0. So, I'm a lot happier. (While I wish I could blame the faulty memory on the .4 increase in prolactin, I'm afraid I'm just forgetful sometimes. I still know the IP addresses of all the network printers in the building which is more useful on a day-to-day basis.)

So ...

I had blood drawn April 10, 2008.

My meds had recently dropped from .25 mg of cabergoline twice a week (that's 1/2 a pill, I used to take three at a time, twice a week) to .25 mg once a week. The recent draw was after I'd been on reduced meds for 8 weeks.

My prolactin has increased from 8.0 ng/mL to 8.4 ng/mL since February which is the largest jump I've had. I'm not sure what it means with respect to testosterone level as that isn't tested.

Normal prolactin range for an adult male is 2.1 - 17.7 ng/mL. So, I'm still in range.

I seem to have gained 3 pounds since my last doctor's visit, which would have been February 7. Regardless of any of the voodoo science I apply to my weight, I am trending up.

I've been trying to lose weight since February and am a bit embarrassed to say I've not been doing a great job of keeping track. I've certainly lost some recently, but I haven't been weighing daily like I used to. It isn't uncommon for my morning weight to fluctuate by several pounds, well five wouldn't be unusual, and without the daily weighings I don't get the best snapshot of where I am. Recently I've weighed between 245 and 249 in the mornings; I was at 242 in February and 233 around August/September 2007.

Per my Tanita scale, my body-fat percentage has trended up a bit too, by about 2 to 2.5% (since the 233 weight), which would be something like 6 pounds. (By the way, I fall into the class of people that think the body-fat measure on a Tanita scale is better for determining trends than it is for dead-on accuracy. I take body-fat measures before bedtime, when I am better hydrated and, should you care, there have been times when my body-fat reading has been lower while I've weighed the most I have for a given period of time -- from what I've read it appears to be related to my hydration level.)

In the gym (well, garage) all of my lifts have increased rather well since the New Year. I suppose it isn't surprising that the snow-forced break from cycling might lead to better performance under a bar. And, likely, some fat gain as well.

I hate to keep saying I'm not worried about where my weight might go, because I am somewhat. I see my doctor again in June; let's see where I am then, as I'll have had some time to cycle and be outside more.

So far, my clothes fit about the same, though I don't know I'd notice if they'd gone from a bit loose to not loose.

While I'm not in love with the format of the pituitary-only site, all of this will eventually end up there.

Posted by delmer at 7:16 AM | Comments (4)

April 16, 2008

Screaming

If you would like to make a donation to RAINN please be sure to put GBBMC2008 and Delmer Wells, in the "Include a note to RAINN" box as there is a chance I could win something. (I am less concerned about winning something than I am about helping the organizers be able to track GBBMC2008 donations. So, at least put the GBBMC2008 bit in.)

Once upon a time I was in bed with a woman. We were, as the French would say sans vetements.

And, as I would say, we were wrestling just a little bit.

There is no way in the world that I'm going to be able to type, at one point I suggested she sit on my face as that seems indelicate and while I'm able to type it out jokingly as an example of something I couldn't comfortably say in real life or blog about seriously, I have trouble putting those words together when speaking of a historical event. Or in real life, which isn't really the problem it seems to be for, regardless of how I've ever stumbled into expressing it women have always gotten the gist of what I've been suggesting and always seem on-board with the idea. (Really, more of them should suggest it as it would be a time saver.)

Anyway, as some point I suggested she repose sur mon visage.

She thought it was a dandy idea and in just moments I had her screaming. I'm not kidding and I'm not trying to boast. Honest-to-God screaming.

One of the the things she screamed was, "Are you snoring?!" Which, while not necessarily uncalled for, was startling to the point that it woke me up.

"I was having a dream," I said in a voice that I think expressed surprise at my ability to fall asleep and slip into a dream-state during cunnilingus.

"Were you dreaming that you had a hot blonde sitting on your face?" (As you can see she had no trouble saying that phrase in a real-life situation.)

"No," I said, still a bit groggy from sleep and, if the truth be told, too much wine, "I was dreaming about my old college girlfriend."

And then things got out of hand.

Well, really, and not surprisingly, I made up that part about the old college girlfriend. I don't remember what I was dreaming about, but I'm not sure she was terribly interested.

In any case, rather than talk about the dream we had a debriefing regarding where my cunnilingus technique could use some improving. She felt it had been dead-on up until the point it became something like small, infrequent puppy licks and that it had gone straight to hell only seconds before the snoring started.

Even though she had dismounted I can't say I was really in any position to debate her on this and took her at her word.

As luck would have it — and if you knew anything about my sex life (that is, if you've been reading the blog very long) you'd know that when sex and I converge some luck is involved — I'd had opportunity before and would have opportunity later to make it up to her. As for that night, I made attempts to help her along in other ways but in the end, lacking the ability to maintain the awakedness that is often key in these situations, she brushed me aside and took matters into her own hands.

Posted by delmer at 12:03 AM | Comments (9)

April 15, 2008

Dogs

I just climbed off The Mighty Schwinn.

If you are curious it's my 4th ride of the season and I've put in 77 miles. All things considered (snow) I'm not terribly far off last year's mark… well, about 200 miles, likely.

With 3 miles to go I was approaching a woman whose dog was pooping in the grassy area between the sidewalk and street. This was just outside a school in an area that will get heavy foot traffic.

The dog quit pooping and, as I was parallel to them, the woman gave the leash a tug and the pair started walking off.

So, I turned my head, and in my best Big D commanding-type voice with a little bit of I-can't-believe-you're-a-f*cking-pig mixed in, said "Pick that up."

I know she didn't. But I also know she heard me and that each time she's out walking her dog she'll have to wonder if the guy coming toward her on the bike is the one who knows she lacks the common decency to pick up after her animal.

Posted by delmer at 7:51 PM | Comments (4)

Toys! Toys! Toys! In the Attic

If you would like to make a donation to RAINN please be sure to put GBBMC2008 and Delmer Wells in the "Include a note to RAINN" box as there is a chance I could win something (I am less concerned about winning something than I am about helping the organizers be able to track GBBMC2008 donations. So, at least put the GBBMC2008 bit in).

This is my second RAINN posting.

This morning a friend of mine sent me an e-mail in which she told me about a recent encounter with her boyfriend. The e-mail went, in part:

I opened my drawer looking for condoms and accidentally set off a Rampant Rabbit. If this wasn't bad enough I had no idea which one I'd turned on. The damn things have four buttons on them which led to a few minutes of button pushing and speed changing and direction turning -- the poor man went white and looked like he had never been so terrified in his life.

[For the guys: A Rampant Rabbit is a vibrator.]

One of the great things about this is that she had not read my blog in a few days and had no idea I'd recently written about vibrators. What I think this says is that there's something about my look that says to a woman, "Tell me about your vibrator." [Just the other day I asked a woman to dinner and she replied, "I'd really rather not go out with you, but while I have your attention let me tell you about the Beaver Basher I keep stashed under the bed. The thing is huge and has to be moved into position by way of a pneumatic arm. I just got the zoning variance to use it last week and have recently sent off for the Disco Balls attachment."]

A second great thing about this is that my friend has at least two vibrators in her nightstand. I guess this is only fair as men have two hands (and I'm sure women would follow that statement with, "and an inability to use either effectively, thus the necessity of a nightstand full of vibrators.").

I mailed my friend to ask if I could use that snippet of her e-mail in a blog post and she graciously granted permission. And then she sent a follow-up mail that I'm going to assume is OK to snip: I also like the Knicker Critter and the Magic Finger.

Posted by delmer at 12:34 PM | Comments (5)

April 14, 2008

Toys for the Attic

If you would like to make a donation to RAINN please be sure to put GBBMC2008 and Delmer Wells, in the "more information" box as there is a chance I could win something.

For my first Sexography post I was going to tell a story about the time I purchased a vibrator for a woman friend. That story started "I once bought a vibrator ..." and just after I typed that line I realized that I have actually purchased two vibrators for women I've known, though in all fairness one friend was more in the "girl" class. A high school buddy and I pooled our resources for that purchase and bought a vibrator that, per the package, seemed to be perfect for cheek massages. It was shaped like a really big rifle bullet.

And it was a gag gift as neither of us actually thought women made use of things like that. Please keep in mind we were from small-town Ohio.

My next encounter with a vibrator would come seven or eight years later. I was at a girlfriend's house and as she and I were walking down the hall I tossed something into her room and onto her bed; the bed immediately started making a humming noise. She casually walked over, pulled the covers back, and turned a vibrator off. My first thought was, "It's midday, your parents and siblings are home, and you have a vibrator out on your bed?" That was also my last thought on it as I… well, I don't know where my mind was but I certainly didn't think she had a vibrator on her bed for any particular reason.

Oh, it was shaped like a big rifle bullet too and I'm thinking probably came in a box that would lead you to believe it was good for facial massages.

A very long time would pass before I next had any sort of vibrator awareness. That was when a woman friend mentioned that hers had broken. She had had one called a Finger and Thumb that had burned up do to overuse.

That's not true. It just quit working. And that was fine she said because whenever she turned it on the lights in the house would dim, her computer would reboot, and the neighbors would complain about the noise; it would seem she's a screamer.

One day I was out Christmas shopping, passed a Waterbeds & Stuff, and thought I'd stop in to see if they had a Finger and Thumb vibrator. I approached the clerk at the front desk and, in a hushed tone, asked for the vibrator by name. As it happens that model had been discontinued but he was kind enough to direct me to a beaded "door" through which I would find a world of other vibrators. None of which, by the way, came in a package suggesting they would be suitable for facial massages. Facials… maybe, as these guys were all shaped like big penises. Big f*cking penises. Cocks actually.

The first one the sales gal showed me was so big it led me to wonder what guy in his right might would buy something that size for a woman? Tommy Lee, maybe, if he wanted to give Pammy a break, but your average guy (as defined by Kinsey) would be an idiot to buy such a thing.

In the end I settled for something normal-human-being sized with some sort of tongue-like thing at the bottom, a spinny bit, and a universal remote that could control my friend's TiVo, stereo, television and clitoris. I also picked up a ball gag so she'd be able to self-stimulate without fear of upsetting the collie down the street.

Right about this time another female friend (it's always women that have these things) mentioned her vibrator to me. It was small enough to fit under her pillow or in her purse or, I'm guessing, in her vagina. In all fairness, she just didn't blurt out that she had a sex toy. We were on the phone and when I mentioned we seemed to have a lot of static on the line she said, "Oh, that's just my vibrator." She then asked me, in seemingly heavy breaths, what I was wearing. When I told her sweat pants and a ratty old T-shirt she gave an exited little yip and squeal that I took to mean she approved of my lounging-around wear. Shortly after that our line noise cleared and conversation turned toward the weather.

And perhaps I made some of that up; I think conversation more likely turned toward recent theater releases.

I could go on but I'm not sure how wise that would be as I'd really hate to upset anybody. Batteries only last so long and I'd like to think that some women I know keep my phone number in an enclosure marked, "In case of vibrator failure, break glass." (So far my phone remains frustratingly silent, but I still hold out hope.)

I will, however, share this snippet of conversation I had with a woman about her vibrator. She was describing the model she preferred.

"It's a Jack Hammer," she said.

"You mean, Jack Rabbit?" I asked. "

"No! A Jack Hammer," she insisted. Who was I to argue? Women seem to know their vibrators.

When I Googled for it I found you actually have to pour a footer for this model and that the manufacturer recommends you live within a 1/4 mile of a power company substation.

Posted by delmer at 9:23 PM | Comments (3)

April 13, 2008

The Wells Dynasty

Haydn, Jack, Sam and I had dinner at Buffalo Wild Wings this past Friday night. As you may recall, Haydn currently holds the local store's record for the Blazin' Wing Challenge (at 2:28) and was, until Friday, the youngest person to complete the challenge.

What is the Blazin' Wing Challenge? Well, you have to eat twelve Blazin' Hot Wings in six minutes or less. If you do it you get your picture taken and a free bright orange shirt.

We ended up at B-dubs as Jack wanted to have a crack at the challenge.

I'd had Blazin' wings a couple of times before. I like wings and realizing (1) they have a high-calorie to nutrition quotient and (2) I can eat them just like they were potato chips, I'd order the Blazin' wings as a way to help me throttle back the speed with which I'd eat them. I'd typically eat one or two and sweat profusely while I tried to put the mouth-fire out with beer or Diet Pepsi.

The thought of going through twelve in six minutes seemed a bit intimidating but I thought I'd join Jack in his quest. Haydn figured he'd give it another go to see if he could better his time. Sammo thought better of the whole thing and decided he'd watch and provide moral support.

Prior to the start Haydn commented that when he'd tried it the first time he hadn't noticed the burning so much until wing ten.

Jack started eating just a second after the wings arrived. This was a signal to the guy with the watch, and the Guinness Book of World Records rep, to start the timer.

"Is it time to go?" Asked Haydn

"Yes," I said.

"Now?"

"Yes," I said as I picked up my first wing.

"But I didn't know it was time to start."

In the end Haydn finished in 2:33, I hit 2:55, and Jack came in at 3:33. Making us a Blazin' Wing Eating Dynasty. (We are such the dynasty that if you type BW3 Blazin Challenge into a Google Images search just about every page past the first one contains images from WADLL.)

Without the late start, Haydn would have beat his old time. Had I been interested in looking like a super-glutton I could have done better as well. As it was I sort of casually worked my way through them.

Per Haydn's earlier remark, I can't say I noticed any uncomfortableness until about wing ten. And while it may have been wing ten when things got uncomfortable, the inside of my mouth burned for a fair amount of time after wing twelve. I also had some nice forehead sweating going.

Jack and Haydn had individual pictures taken. Sam and I had a group shot done.

In the end we each, all four of us, got shirts.

Posted by delmer at 10:01 PM | Comments (7)

April 12, 2008

Chuck

Yesterday I posted the results of a Gallup Poll which said, in part, that 46 percent of Americans thought same-sex marriage should be permitted and that 59 percent of Americans believe that homosexual relations should be legal.

A commenter to the blog that reported the poll results said:

I simply don't believe it. The article states that 46 percent of Americans approve of legalizing homosexual marriage. That poll must have been taken in San Francisco. I believe an accurate estimate would be closer to 5 percent if a legitimate cross section of Americans were polled.

Chuck

Gallup has been conducting polls for decades.

I'm guessing Chuck has been sitting around, drinking beers with his Klavern buddies at the local pool hall since he graduated from high school.

I know that sounds harsh and it may be a bit unfair of me to say something like that about Chuck. We tend to hang around with people that share our opinions so it isn't hard to see how a person might be out of sync with the rest of the world if his only points of reference are the opinions of his friends.

It happens to all of us.

For example, based on the things I was hearing from my friends, many of them Republicans, I fully expected the Democrats to win the last two presidential elections.

Posted by delmer at 10:05 PM | Comments (6)

April 11, 2008

Delmers should be smarter

NewsOK, an Oklahoma news source, printed an article about PFLAG's recent audio posting of their meeting with Sally Kern. Without getting into all the details it looks like Sally has been outed as a liar. While bearing false witness against thy neighbor is never good, especially from someone who would like us to believe that her homophobic rantings are Bible-based, we are going to cut Sally some slack and focus on something else.

The following is a comment left by someone regarding the above-mentioned article.

I don't mean to be overly harsh here but the gays need to back off and just quit expecting others to accept them as they are. We don't generally accept that kind of lifestyle and by the way we are the majority not you! You are a small voice in the global aspect of society and all you are doing is making noise of which most of us turn a deaf ear. So get out of our face and get off the Bus. How can so many of us be of the same opinion and you want US to change?
Delmer, xxxxxxx - Apr 9, 2008 7:47 PM

As you can see, it was left by a Delmer.

I realize I'm one of the younger Delmers around and as such may have more enlightened opinions. However, to say that "we don't generally accept that kind of lifestyle ... and we are in the majority" doesn't really need an enlightened opinion to be proved wrong. According to a 2006 USA Today Poll same-sex marriage was opposed by 51% of the people polled; only 28% strongly opposed it.

Yes, 51% is a majority and in many Republican bath houses it constitutes a mandate, but it is hardly overwhelming to the non-deluded.

While I was thinking to myself that if 49% of the people polled supported same-sex marriage, I'll bet more than half didn't give a shit about a person's sexual preference. I based this notion on the fact that I've heard some prominent people say that while they s

What's a Delmer Look Like?

What could be less interesting than reading about the day-to-day doings of Delmer Wells?