Why do men -- even men who are usually very open about themselves in a variety of situations -- suddenly clam up and become very private and guarded as soon as they realize they are being considered as a potential partner by a member of the opposite sex?
For some reason that reminds me of a line from The Big Sleep, "she thought that meant I should roll over with all four paws in the air." (Rough quote from memory)
A sense of humor helps I suppose. Laughter yes cat there was always a lot of laughter, and a feeling of well-being. Being with a friend. I hope I have said something helpful
But yeah, it has to be invited. Sexual talk which is uninvited and unwelcome, when there really is no relationship at all, is just plain .... umm.... i donno...*shrug*... empty.... and almost... juvenile
.
Being a virgin this is very difficult subject for me to discuss. I mean I might as well be a virgin after twenty five years. My memory so old I can hardly remember talking about sex before we embraced. Later in our relationship we did talk about birth control. It was just a great conversation then a feeling of being on a beam together being understood. the next thing I remember we were hugging the hug seemed to go on forever, then floating feeling and then our clothes disappeared.
Hollywood scripted my last love affair.
. The Last Tango In Paris and The Trip.
I was never much for scripted sex.
There is a lot of pain and hurt in this world of ours, so much brought on by ourselves, our humanity. Is it any wonder why we seek out another to share our fears and tears, to share our thoughts and dreams, our wishes and wants? It is this search for another that causes all the riffs - it is a sometimes long and arduous journey finding one that we feel safe with, and the journey is filled with many emotional rocks and ruts.
Dam good shot amigo.
“Does anyone want to fuck me” What was so strange about that night was that up until that time I thought she was a guy. There was something genderless about her posts with you. She had those great conversations with you; I was always posing like I understood half of it. It was all so proper, so coy, a great awakening for me to realize I still cared enough to at least go a sparkin if only virtually. I saw her on the litkicks a couple of months ago. Good to know she is still kicking.
Another pen pal of mine with a head so hard it is a diamond. I have not heard from her in many months, we used to talk about the possibility of intimacy between friends with out sex; I used to think of Bing Crosby movies about priests and nuns.
A woman of dangerous intelligence
as Freud said of Lou Salome
I don’t have much need to talk about my emotions because most of the time they speak for themselves. Except for anger. I am prone to try to see some humor in that and think twice before I speak from anger.
In the real world I don’t know how love works between men and women, I remember a line from the Savage God, something like, “the power flowed between them like water from one vessel to another” The best lovers I have ever had were women I felt I could just act natural.
Fools rush in
This maybe the dumbest thing I have writen. I Feel tongue tied and inarticulate on the subject. It was a summer night, we were walking across the mall in College Parkk, it started to rain and we ran to the portico of the anthropology building. We were both so happy we hugged each other.That was the hug that started it. Then we were in her warm bed? A blank, did we dirve walk, was it my bed? Like a memory of a former life. Vague and tender.
ramble, this almost looks like English. But I can't read it. Aphasia. I can write but I can't read. almost deleted this
Instead I keep adding to it. The last time I came within hugging distance of a woman I froze up again inside. If nothing else she could have used a friend to rub her aching back. 
is about how I feel about myself and women. Autistic. two or three years latter I realize that was my last chance. But to tell the truth sometimes I miss the trucking more than the fucking.
Lyrics for Song: Donald and Lydia
Lyrics for Album: Great Days: The John Prine Anthology
Small town, bright lights, Saturday night,
Pinballs and pool halls flashing their lights.
Making change behind the counter in a penny arcade
Sat the fat girl daughter of Virginia and Ray
(Spoken:)
Lydia
Lydia hid her thoughts like a cat
Behind her small eyes sunk deep in her fat.
She read romance magazines up in her room
And felt just like Sunday on Saturday afternoon.
Chorus:
But dreaming just comes natural
Like the first breath from a baby,
Like sunshine feeding daisies,
Like the love hidden deep in your heart.
Bunk beds, shaved heads, Saturday night,
A warehouse of strangers with sixty watt lights.
Staring through the ceiling, just wanting to be
Lay one of too many, a young PFC:
(Spoken:)
Donald
There were spaces between Donald and whatever he said.
Strangers had forced him to live in his head.
He envisioned the details of romantic scenes
After midnight in the stillness of the barracks latrine.
Repeat Chorus:
Hot love, cold love, no love at all.
A portrait of guilt is hung on the wall.
Nothing is wrong, nothing is right.
Donald and Lydia made love that night.
(Spoken:)
Love
The made love in the mountains, they made love in the streams,
They made love in the valleys, they made love in their dreams.
But when they were finished there was nothing to say,
'Cause mostly they made love from ten miles away.
