Sexuality and the Village Idiot

I spoke with several men today. There's nothing unusual in that unless you factor in how cyclic it seems to be. We all joke and laugh at how perverse the world and the gods had to be to infect womankind with a monthly demonic excuse, but no one has taken to fact the significance behind the very said change in men. I can go all month without so much as a word and then...bam...all of a sudden every mid-life crisis-ridden bloke with an itch comes crawling out of the closet.

Mind you I am not so squeamish for the likes of skeletons and gore galore. But I am somewhat alarmed by the multitudes of my own that seem to surface at the most innocuous of times. I love all my men friends, former and latter and miss them all dearly. I only seem to be the object of affection whence the changing of the moon strikes them dumb (or smart depending on how you look at it) and sends them on their merry way to find Miss Mobe and see if they can strike some absolute bargain to cajole her into submission to their wants. I am no fool anymore than they be lacking of ignorance. So the topic of sexuality comes into play on more than one occasion. The sexuality of the male species and its periodical peaks and wanes has always been a favorite passtime. This particular week in question seems to be "the" week to hound your dear mobe. Don't get me wrong, we all love the attention and would want the ones we love to get as much as possible. I just don't really relish the attention of the old lovers. Definitely not in lieu of the current one. And there's more. There are other lovers who have yet to be that have crawled out into the moonlight to howl madly in the mist in the hopes I will find them suitable enough to have a go 'round in the sack and then spend the rest of the month alone while they make their bullshit excuses as to why they couldn't get me off or have the time to actually "do" anything remotely resembling not to their own personal benefit! I love the act of making love and copulation. I love all forms, almost all that is, of it and the squishy melding of one body into another and the tastes of the essence of men and women alike. But I don't love not getting my own plate supped upon.

Most of the men who have fallen by the wayside I won't return to for the simple fact that they just didn't ring my bell. Oh there was love and there was fondness and there was even the "build-up" of feeling and wanting...until the pivotal moment when it just didn't fit right. They didn't mesh well with my own needs and I didn't with theirs. There are plenty of things that could be said but haven't been said on the topic of sex. I have found so little to be content with in the sexual world and most of what I have found was through self-exploration and not from other encouragement. This should come as no surprise as most people find themselves on the receiving end of self-stimulation at some point in there lives. I have a hard time believing there are those that haven't after looking at countless sonograms and witnessing thousands of infants at play. To touch one's self is as old as sucking thumbs and turning one's head. And people make such an issue out of it like it is immoral. Imagine a religion that tells you that if you blink you are disgracing yourself or their god? It's absurd to say the least. Knowing all of this, it doesn't take the village idiot to figure out that no one knows YOU better than YOU, which is why it is so much more stimulating that a partner has been. Oh there have been some lovers that were good enough, but I always found their hang-ups to be interfering in their capability in pleasing themselves or me. So I sit and ponder the sexuality of beings I loathe and what could make me keep picking myself up and getting on the proverbial horse. It would interest you to know that the prowess and expertise of these experiences could be had by all if they remembered the one important fact about masturbation. The fact that you are the only one who knows how you work and how well you work.

Using that information it would come to mind to expect others to be smart enough to ask how you work. But they don't. They think they know you better than you, and I myself on most occasions have been guilty of this crime. In my defense, I have studied human sexuality, sociology, anthropology and archaeology from childhood. I am a data collector after all. People, most, don't know what their partners want. They don't even know what gets them going, but they charge in there with full gusto and fall flat on their faces. Men are the biggest purveyors of this crime and feel pressured by society to live up to some forced "masterful" existence. No wonder most men these days in their late thirties and early forties have lived a life of bachelor-dom and in self seclusion. They realize the decisions are no longer their own and that to know a woman's body is a lifelong process and it sort of takes the fun out of it for them when they alone can fulfill their need without a bitch and gripe. It breaks down the relationship existence. Women too. Though some of us perverts have numbers well into the triple digits, there are those that have had one or two partners and settle for what they get, silently. Why aren't people talking here and sharing?!?

I understand sexuality and like the village idiot, I want to share what I know. So when I teach things to a partner and then they go streaking through town to "see" if the next broad will "like" their new-found knowledge, it really puts a kink in my drawers! The efforts taken haven't swayed me from teaching as of yet, only discouraged me from thinking I will find one who is much like me and that there will never be a need to share or feel like their mother. Who knows what is around the corner and if there is an equal to be had. I will always hold a small grain of sand in the hope of, but in the meantime, I will just be me, forceful, intelligent, articulate and sensuous me...~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.