Sex and the Second City

The Birthday Blues

On the morning of my birthday, I woke up with the worst attitude imaginable.  I had falled asleep on my floor--like some drunk passed out--too lazy to get in my bed.

Actually, my bed was too junky for me to get into.  I looked around my apartment.  It was filthy.  I hadn't washed clothes in a month, my place was a mess, and dishes had filled my sink.

This wasn't the way someone was supposed to be turning 31.

The Return of Friend

As mentioned last week, I had experienced a comeback Tuesday.  Not only had I been reacquainted with a guy who called me a fat bastard--but while I was at work I got a phone call.  I was in the middle of a meeting and the phone was on silent.  But I checked it during a brief break and my phone said:

1 MISSED CALL

I checked the call log. FRIEND had called.

Bygones

When I last left you guys, I had just re-communicated with the PSEUDORICAN on the Internet, and had hatched a plan in my mind to exact revenge on his him for some cold ass shit that he did to me about five years ago.

I was decked out in my tank top, jeans, and fake Timberland shoes (which according to my latest comments from some readers characterizes me as an old faggot with no sense of style).  Regardless of what the pussy posse's fashion police have to say--I was looking really nice.

I had just knocked on the door of the PSEUDORICAN's apartment.  And like five years before, I stood there.  Waiting.  Anticipating  Hoping and praying that when he opened the door that he wouldn't take one look at me, laugh, and send me on my way.  The door opened.

My Birthday

Happy Birthday to me!  Wish me the best on my own special day and say a little prayer for me.

At the least, hope that today ends up being extra special fabulous.

The Comeback

That new HBO show--The Comeback, starring Lisa Kudrow--sucks.  Generally, I think that Lisa K. has a crazy sort of humor, but for the most part the show is just tired. 

But there is something about the name of the show that I like.  I guess because everybody likes a comeback.  When I look over my life, I have made so many comebacks.  A few I have chronicled in this blog.

But last Tuesday, I experienced two of the best comebacks that I have had in a long time...

Birthday To Do

Tomorrow is the big day.  What's a guy to do for his birthday?  I feel like I am getting too old for the clubs.  I think I am panicking a little.  Maybe Ill consult my birthday wish list and treat myself to a few items, go home and use them.

I ♥ Downtown

I love going to downtown Chicago during the day.  Since I don't work down there I never have to deal with rush hour traffic, so visiting during the day can always give me a welcome reprieve from my slow and dull southside neighborhood.

But why do I love downtown so much?

Because it is filled with people walking the street--walking through buildings.  Bustling people in suits, jeans, khakis, Timberlands--you name it.  As I walk through the city I can feel eyes cast on me.  But even better?  I enjoy watching others.

Versace Crews and Pussy Posses

A few people wanted to know what I wanted for my b-day.  Honestly, I want everyone to tell their friends about my blog.  But if you feel a desire to get me a gift you can check out my wishlist (there is also a link on the sidebar).

After yesterday's waxing about my upcoming Friday birthday and the virtues of being 30, I have to reflect on being twentysomething.  Throughout my twenties, I mostly dated and sexed guys that were older than me.  I don't know why.  Maybe they provided a more senior fatherly figure.  Or maybe they were just more stable and grounded, and I find that sexy.  Or maybe its something about the shape of a MANs body as opposed to a little boy.  Now that I am a little older--those late 20s/early 30s guys are now my age.  Which I find to be hilarious.

But what's even more hilarious is that now that I am older--I find that I am now the object of attraction to young men in their early twenties.  And on occasion--although I hate to admit it--I like having sex with them.

Single and Abso-Fucking-Lutely Fabulous!

I have discussed at length in my tales how I love using aliases.  Different names, voices, backgrounds--you name it, I have done it when meeting new people.  If I like a guy, I usually fess up pretty quickly about my true identity.

So now it is time that I fess up to the readers of Sex and the Second City.  I have been concealing a somewhat important aspect of my identity since the onset of this blog.  So to make up for the fact that I have been telling a lie for the duration of this blog--I am going to make it up to my readers.  First, I am going to tell the truth.  Then I am going to give you more of a glimpse into who I am.  I will show you a picture of The Sex.

First, the truth. I am not a 28 year old black man living on the southside of Chicago--as my welcome greeting suggests.

Fucking Asshole

A few days ago I was on adam4adam and I got the sweetest note.  It said,

I think I love you.

I clicked to see his picture, expecting to see a monster, and to my delight I saw a carmel skinned muscle man.  I thought to myself, Yes.  He had a second picture, and I clicked on it.  And with that click all of my happiness sank and was flushed down the toilet.