So, yes, I haven’t written in a while, but I have a bit of a defense.  First, I’ve been awfully busy lately.  Second, I just got back from New Orleans.  I had planned to write while I was there, but the Historic Cotton Exchange Hotel’s WiFi blows.  (NOLA was awesome, though - hopefully more on that soon)  Third, I have started about five or six different blogs, and deleted them - product of my insecurities.  C’est la vie.  So, to make up for it, here’s a few little nuggets that may develop into full-blown entries in the future.  Also, I have a beer buzz, so I might be a little more honest than usual.

You have been warned.

I had a very interesting dream recently; a sexual dream.  I would like to preface this by saying I almost never dream about other women.  It’s literally either Lorelei, or some faceless, amorphous concept of another person.  But this time, I had a dream about Norah Jones.  Yes, that Norah Jones.  Now, in fairness, the part of the dream I remember didn’t involve sex.  However, I remember clearly laying in bed, post coitus, with the summer breeze drifting in lightly through the window and tree just outside, and she was laying her head on my chest, singing “Come Away With Me” to me softly as I drifted to sleep.  Strange.  Very strange.

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I’ve been thinking about bringing someone else into our bed a lot lately.  It’s still a concept which gives me a bit of concern (understatement of the century), but it’s moved from something I ignore, into something about which I sometimes fantasize.  Lorelei’s friend Charity, with whom Lorelei has previously had sexual relations, and as such has been considered as a somewhat “safe” entry into the world of threesomes for me, is, to be quite honest, very hot, and I would be lying if I said I’m not aroused by the thought of fucking her.

She also reads this blog, so posting this might be… interesting.

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I used to fantasize about, and even want, to have a threesome, many years ago (MFF and MMF, as a matter of fact), but now, faced with the actual, real proposition of doing it, it scares the living fuck out of me.

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I hope that putting either of those out there doesn’t make anything weird.

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I find myself pointing out women I find exceptionally attractive and/or sexy to Lorelei more and more lately, and I’m not sure why.  I don’t know if it’s really me, or if I’m doing it because I think that’s what she wants me to do.  I wish I knew the answer to that.

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I still feel inadequate as a lover, and part of me is just waiting for the day when Lorelei figures it out and decides to move on.  Where does that come from?

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We’re looking at getting a dog, and have found a half Dutch Shepherd, half Manchester Terrier, being trained in a prison program, available for adoption.  I really want a dog, but the massive change to our lives seems daunting.  Still, it’d be nice to have someone around here with undying loyalty that I can collar and drag around on a leash without public ridicule.

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Eighteen months ago, I never would have cracked that joke.

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A few weeks ago, Lorelei and I played harder than we have so far.  She told me she needed me to “beat the crap out of” her, to help with the funk in which she found herself.  I’m always scared that I’m going to lose myself in the moment, and actually, really hurt her.  Things went well, but I still left more and darker marks than I initially intended to.

It’s on my mind daily.

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I am still continually surprised at how attractive people find me to be.  The bartender at Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop was avoiding other customers to talk to me.

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I say that out of honest bewilderment, not some sort of ego trip.

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If you’re in NOLA, go to Hobnobber’s (on Carondelet) for breakfast, Coop’s (on Decatur) for dinner, and back to Hobnobber’s to drink.  Say “hi” to Patrick at the bar.

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