Wednesday, July 28, 2010

On Monogamy – Post #11




Saturday 7/24/10 11:50 P.M.
Post Rush Concert - The Train Ride Home to Manhattan

On a road lit only by fire
Going where I want, instead of where I should
I peer out at the passing shadows
Carried through the night into the city
Where a young man has a chance of making good
A chance to break from the past
The caravan thunders onward
Stars winking through the canvas hood
On my way at last      --Neil Peart ‘10




In relationships, as in life...

Nah.  Too high school essay and way too serious.

Did you hear the one about the boyfriend and his ass chastity belt?

But a little more serious than that!

OK.  There was a time when monogamy was so important to me that I would drink myself to sleep on any of the nights I didn’t spend with my then-boyfriend, because I was afraid he could be, at that very moment, fucking another guy. 

There ya go.

And talk about control issues.

There were eighteen years between Nixon and me (that was his name, and he has since died of cancer).  He was 49 and I was 31.  Very different places in our lives.  He didn’t think monogamy was that big a deal, while I probably thought it was the most important part of a relationship.

These days, as a single guy, I’m much more on board with where Nixon was. Is a relationship something to get sentenced to?  Why would I want to keep someone I love from that kind of enjoyment?  But maybe the most important question, why add more hurdles to an already precarious situation that is being in a relationship?  Issues are not like car mileage, to be recorded and measured and collected.

They are like potholes. To be avoided.

It’s a lot more fun to have group sex with your boyfriend than to pass out drunk and scared when he’s not around.  I’ve seen lots of couples at sex parties – certainly at mine.  I can’t ascertain how good a relationship is, but they do seem more sophisticated and secure to me.  They participate together, they participate apart, then they check on each other.

There are also guys who are there on the down-low, with the boyfriend out of town.  My guess is they don’t have an open relationship.  But, to the unsuspecting boyfriends out there, you should know that they never fall in love and I’ve never heard one say, “The sex is better than with my boyfriend.”

It really is just sex.

By no means am I generally advocating that open relationships are the way to go; if both are happy with monogamy, it makes sense to stick with what works.  But if it’s not working, you might want to give up, give in, and give it a try.

With rules, of course.

If I’d have known this back then, I could have saved a lot of tears, a lot of beer money, and, perhaps, even our relationship.


I miss you sweetie. 


If you don’t know what the HOOK party is, check out the “Parties and Ideas” tab.  We’re going to have the first one on Tuesday, 8/3.

Guys often ask me if I could forward their email address to someone they played with at a party.  If they don’t ask or if I don’t know who they’re talking about, they have no choice but to hope to see the guy at another party.  With HOOK, you’ll be able to anonymously exchange email contact information with only the guys you’re into and who are also into you.

I’m really excited about it.  I hope you’ll join us.



TCH is now on Twitter, where you can check on updates during parties.  I’ll post what’s going on.  In order to follow me, you’ll need to request access, on Twitter.  You’ll also first need to be on my email list.  My screen name there is @TheOrgyGuy.

Saturday, July 17, 2010

An Ode – Post #10



Friday 7/16/10 7:35 P.M.
The Pier (at a table this time)

I’m sitting here watching these little kids knocking and kicking a beach ball around, and it occurs to me that I was about the same age when I organized my first group sex thing.  I must’ve been five.  At our backyard barbecue, I corralled two girl cousins and two boys from the block to watch me piss behind a bush.  My (much) older brother came around the corner to see what was going on, my observers scattered, and I couldn’t get my pants button snapped.  Alas, it was a clasp, and by the time I figured that out, he was spreading the news.

That’s all I remember.



This is for that guy at sex parties everyone tries to avoid.


Ode to Inappropriate Guy

Hey now Inappropriate Guy
Why must you talk so loud?
No one wants to hear you say
How much you missed your dog today
Inappropriate Guy
Yeah, Inappropriate Guy

Hey now Inappropriate Guy
Get your finger out of there
He's still checking in his clothes
And that’s not even where it goes
Inappropriate Guy
Yeah, Inappropriate Guy

Hey now Inappropriate Guy
How could you not possibly know?
With guys who beat you off with stick
You somehow think they want your dick
Inappropriate Guy
Yeah, Inappropriate Guy

Hey now Inappropriate Guy
No comments while I’m screwing
I know that it’s a party
But you sound like my Aunt Marnie
Inappropriate Guy
No, no, noooo, Inappropriate Guy

Hey now Inappropriate Guy
You’re purposely standing in the way
Stop grabbing at the joint
Oh please just get the point
Inappropriate Guy
Stay out of the sling, Inappropriate Guy

With guys who beat you off with stick
You somehow think they want your dick
Your paisley jock is way too small
And, yes, we know your dick is too
Inappropriate Guy
Get your own poppers, Inappropriate Guy

Now now Inappropriate Guy
What was your email again?
Please stop with all the questions
And no to “private sessions”
Inappropriate Guy
You realize that’s your nose you’re thumbing?
There aren’t any parties coming
Inappropriate Guy

No, no, noooo, Inappropriate Guy


Sunday, July 11, 2010

Is that a Virgo in your sky or are you just happy to see me? – Post #9


10:04 P.M. 7/11/10  
Sidewalk Café

Are you a Pisces, Aries, or Virgo?  And can I be your friend?

Seems you guys like (group) sex more than the rest of us.  


At the last four parties, I’ve asked each guy for his astrological sign. I would expect, as a “rational,” science-based type of thinker, that one hundred guys would divide up pretty evenly by month born, with regard to their respective sexual propensities.  This has been the case with water, air, and fire signs, but not earth signs:  


Again, this is only with one hundred guys.  With one thousand, I’d expect the percentages to draw much closer to each other.  It’s not like they’re that far apart.


But, in the order of the zodiac, check this out:






Why would guys born in September seem to like group sex so much more than guys born in August?  If these differences hold up over time and larger numbers, I won’t necessarily believe it’d have anything to do with the gravimetric positions of stars and constellations.  But is it any more believable that it would be due to having to wear winter booties, at a year old, rather than sandals? 

I don’t know, but so far, so fun.


Thursday, July 8, 2010

Type Righting – Post #8



“It’s not the heat, it’s the inhumanity
Plugged into the sweat of the summer street”

--Neil Peart, 2002


5:44 P.M.  Back on the Pier

Twice, today, I’ve felt in harmony with my environment.  I’m pretty sure those were the two times the temperature hit 98.6 degrees.


Ever since I announced that TCH is primarily for men over 35, the feel of the parties has been better.  The younger guys who’ve come have been more sophisticated; no more walking around with that “deer in the headlights” look or asking a lot of questions.  I think the older guys are more comfortable, too.

The TCH brand is sanctuary.  This is the place to forget your worries for a few hours, to de-stress, to stop having to negotiate the day.

It’s all about the vibe, man.

I used to be a high school English teacher.  It just takes one student walking in with a late pass to change the dynamic of the group.  Takes some maneuvering to get the class back on track. 

A sex party can change, too, with enough guys.  If “Brian” has a prissy attitude, arms folded and eyes given to rolling, someone’s going to pick up on it and pass it along in some way.  Then, say, “Alan” joins the party with a big smile, bringing his joie de vivre into the mix.  He may become the proverbial straw that helps stir the drink.

I do look for a type at my parties; the type that’s fun and respectful of others, and who realizes that he’s actually the one responsible for his own good time.  I want a wholly masculine, grown up tone.  No less important is the “random factor.”  Guys whom I can picture as a cop or a dispatcher, a boss or his employee, an executive or the man who dumps his recycle pail.  That guy in I.T. who says Hello at the coffee machine.

As long as they’re real and as long as they don’t all look and act the same way.  Like some Twilight Zone episode. 

Or no change in temperature.


Some preliminary conclusions may be drawn regarding the astrological signs of partygoers.  Here’s the chronological list, for last night’s SIR party, of the guys by arrival time. They’re color coded by earth, water, fire, air. Note any patterns?

Sc
V
V
Sc
Sc
Ar
Ar
Can
Can
G
V
V
P
P
P
Sa
P
Sc
Li
Li
Ar
T
Le
T
T
G
Sa
P
V
Ar
P
V
Sc



Saturday, July 3, 2010

Astrology, Meet Determinism – Post #7




November 1980

Philip gave me the zodiac medallion on the bus. I wanted to control destiny with it.  The image of all twelve signs were etched in metal and I could keep it in my pocket.  At my disposal.  To feel it, to look at it, maybe even to use it.  By the third day, though, I wasn’t having much luck and I blamed the coin.  By the seventh day, while raking the lawn on a very windy and gray Sunday afternoon, I was convinced that I’d delved into some dark spirit force.  As the wind and the leaves picked up, so did my...drama.  I took the zodiac out from my pocket, looked at if for just a second, then threw it into the neighbors’ yard, hence ridding myself of the bad luck that was...The Zodiac. 

The next spring, it broke Mr. Smith’s lawn mower blade.


I am a determinist.  As opposed to a fatalist.  I prefer to call my shots. For better or for worse, my locus of control is heavily tilted toward self.  And I like it that way – I already don’t have enough control of my own destiny, due to probability; I don’t need to cede any more of it to gods or stars.

But I may actually be in the minority on this.  I’ve come across more believers in astrology than disbelievers.  From horoscopes to charts.  When someone asks me what my sign is, I counter that question with a command: “Guess.”  Over the years, two people have gotten it correct.  Again, probability. 

Of course, they just thought they were indeed gifted.

Yes, I realize this is a blog about orgies, so here’s the sequitur. I’ll research which two signs are in alignment (or whatever the term) during the night of a particular party, then announce that the party is primarily for guys with those signs.  The latest Thursday ERUPTION party had, for some reason, a preponderance of Aries and Virgos. 

I don’t know what that means, but I’m going to start taking note of guys’ signs, and who relates to whom, and so forth.  If anything, it’ll be interesting to see if we can determine any patterns.

It’ll be even more interesting to see if I’ve been wrong.