Just a random musing really, about how men say things they think women want to hear, to make us feel secure. Do we live in such a black / white or light / dark paradigm?
Is there such a thing as truth in love or do we just adjust the situation to the circumstances and lying in her tender arms, tell her what we need to be, in order to feel enough or valuable? Then slink away like shame as dawn lifts her skirts and dayight breaks.
Sometimes I wish I was a man, then I could do exactly what I do and not have guilt / complexity around it.
Oh for the glory of a cock.
I have an enviable collection of cock shots on my BlackBerry, sent by randomers, perhaps it's meant to turn me on. Difficult to attach emotion to a distended member, engorged and ready, when I haveno inkling what sociopathic tendencies it might be attached to. A perfect installation for the lobby of The Shard, my collection of cock shots. I would never send a photo of my unfolding. Paris Hilton type XXX rated traumas don't interest me, anymore.
Still here, a dip in and out, a passing of flotillas and a silent gun salute...