Friday, July 31, 2009

Rejection is part of the game....

Well, I met with P., or at least I spent perhaps 30 seconds with her..... Apparently she had been watching the location for my arrival, determined that I was not what she was looking for, and proceeded to give me the disappointing news before we even had an opportunity to sit down. Her precise words were, “Umm, hi, listen, I usually meet with really young guys. They're really great, actually, you should try the younger ones too. You're the same age as my husband, you're cute and everything, but I thought you were younger. So I'm not going to make you waste your money buying me a drink, ok?" This entire soliloquy was delivered with the door to the bar held half open and her backing away towards her parked car. Just to be clear, let me report that she listed her age on the site where we met as 42. I quite clearly listed mine as 45.

Now, let me say just for the record, that I have met many people to whom I have not been attracted and whom I have had to reject. (Though as a sex addict my standards are certainly a lot looser than most.) And this woman was not particularly attractive at all. (Of course I would probably have had sex with her, that is what I do.) But I have never been utterly unwilling to spend even 15 minutes with someone sharing a drink. In fact, I've had some of my most entertaining conversations with people who, for one reason or another, clearly were never going to be sexual partners. People interest me and, in spite of my addiction, I am under no illusion that only sexually attractive people have something of worth to offer to me in conversation. Sadly the Internet seems to have bred an amazingly virulent form of rudeness. Is this simply the appropriate comeuppance for men who have been thoughtlessly rejecting women for centuries? More on that topic in another post.....

What a difference a day makes.....

You take a day off to participate in a family outing and suddenly the heavens open up, it begins pouring, and the semi-drought is officially ended. (Perhaps the surprising appearance of C. on Wednesday should have been enough to signal the turning of the tide...) In my absence, I received an email from D., who seems suddenly interested in pushing things forward with me—have I finally found a woman to be genuinely submissive with?—as well as an email begging to connect from the man that is obsessed with my cock, and, most interestingly perhaps, several emails and texts from a new woman—let’s call her P.—met through one of my feeder sites, who lives near me, works near me, and seems very very interested. We are meeting for a quick drink today to test the waters. The logistical convenience is striking and makes potentially regular liaisons infinitely more feasible than with my more far-flung friends, including M., whom I greatly enjoyed but whose family responsibilities and difficulties in getting to me from 25 miles away make get-togethers likely to be far less frequent. I will certainly report the details of my meeting with P. today. I liked her voice and energy on the phone quite a bit.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Blessed Relief....

The day began with the pressure for sexual release building to almost unbearable proportions--and with no relief in sight. Emails continue to fly back and forth, I engage in the occasional semi-provocative instant message session, I receive expressions of interest from various heretofore unknown potential candidates, but in the end there is nothing tangible, nothing real, nothing now. Former partners, including the two women I've had sex with within the last month as well as even some of my normally ever-ready male replacement players, are all unavailable or not responding. Suddenly, late morning, my phone vibrates in my pocket, indicating a text message. (My sexual liaisons have so often involved texting of late that the sensation of that vibration against my thigh alone is enough to make me hard.) With mounting excitement I read the text, which turns out to be a note from a woman—let’s call her C.—I had met with once on a business trip to Chicago. She was in town for meetings, two of which had been canceled, leaving her unexpectedly with time on her hands. Might I be interested in paying her a visit in her hotel? Needless to say I was in her room within 30 minutes, having tap danced my way out of the office with one of my endlessly inventive collection of lies. (More on effective lying techniques in another post.) In my one very satisfying meeting with this woman, I had sensed a kindred spirit—it has been fairly rare in my experience to find a woman quite as driven sexually as I am, but they are indeed out there—and hence had made a deliberate effort to stay in touch, even though I saw no immediate way to meet with her again. Now here we were, some 18 months later with an unforeseen opportunity to meet. The moral is very simple: Keep in touch because the truth is, you truly never know.

The sex was again pretty sensational. C. is short, and perhaps 15 pounds overweight by today’s ludicrously idealized standards, but she has wondrously succulent flesh, a bonanza of curves to hold onto, and a very very sexy mind and spirit. She also is truly multi-orgasmic, which makes for epic levels of vocalization—is there a man alive who doesn't love hearing a woman scream, “Yes, yes, fuck me harder! Don’t stop! Yes, yes, yes! Oh my God, I'm cumming, again!”— as well as a totally relaxed and fluid approach to the changing of positions, all performed without missing a beat and generally while keeping my cock comfortably inside her. (Remember my comment in an earlier post about sex addicts being good lovers? That goes for female sex addicts as well...)

Her schedule only allowed us about 90 minutes together, but we took full opportunity of the time allotted and parted with a passionate kiss and an entirely mutual expression of deep gratitude as well as a nod to the heavens above for allowing us both to be available at the same time. Sometimes fate smiles....

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

In the beginning there was the orgasm

So for some reason the hunger is down today. Not sure why, perhaps because I almost killed myself working out too hard this morning at the gym and have consequently felt exhausted all day. Who knows? But perhaps this is an opportunity to briefly speculate on the sources of this strange addictive behavior of mine. My own theory is that it began with an odd confluence of events, namely my entrance into puberty at the age of 12 and the sudden death of my beloved sister just two months earlier. The proximity of these two seminal (pun intended) events seemed to almost hardwire into my psyche the notion of sex as a form of relief against emotional pain. I remember with great clarity the first time I ever masturbated by rubbing my alarmingly hard cock against a satin pillow, the resulting shivers of sheer pleasure thrilling me far beyond anything I had previously experienced. The resulting utter ecstasy of the orgasm itself--totally unexpected actually--left me forever after wanting to return again and again and again to that blissful state. I remember thinking very specifically, This is something that is always available to me. No matter how stressful or unpleasant the world may become, no matter what other traumatic events may lie in wait for me in the future, this incredible, intense, electric pleasure will always and forever be there to comfort me.

In my grief, in my despair over discovering, really for the first time, just how cruel the world could be, the sensation of my hard cock on that silky pillow became my most reliable and exciting form of solace. It also was a secret solace, one to be hidden and never discussed, one that only I knew I was engaging in. This early experience established two critical psychological realities that would mark my erotic life forever: sex as solace and sex as secret, two critical cornerstones of the addict’s world.

Monday, July 27, 2009

Raging Libido

So here I am desperately horny at the moment, having talked with several eager men about connecting today. The guy I was most attracted to couldn't make the logistics work, the guy I was reasonably enthusiastic about meeting had to cancel, and the guy that is literally in love with my cock but to whom I am not attracted was gently rejected. Still, I had to muster all my available strength not to meet with the third guy out of sheer desperation. (Had he been online and available to chat, I suspect he would have talked me into it.) The reality, of course, is that I would not have given any of them the time of day if there was even a hint of a chance with a woman right now. What does that make me? A total male slut fully prepared to mold my sexuality to accommodate whoever the available partner might be at any given moment? If the shoe fits....

A word to the wise: If you are already horny and desperate for sex, do not spend much of your day watching porn. It tends to cloud your judgment....

Manic Monday....

It's Monday and I haven't had an orgasm since my sexathon with M. 12 days ago. I'm not entirely sure what my aversion to masturbation is, but sometimes it just seems so insufficient a form of satisfaction for the intensity of my desire that I simply avoid it all together. Two of my female partners are essentially completely unavailable at the moment and the other potentials seem weeks away from anything tangible. And my hunger is now raging. What to do? My past pattern in these situation has been to turn to quickies with men, even though for the most part they represent a far less preferable and desirable option. A meeting place that had been inaccessible is now available again, making the likelihood of my resorting to men that much more likely. (This is a place where I would almost never even consider meeting a woman.... men are so much sleazier!) I may check on the availability of one of my married male friends, who is easy, safe, and at least somewhat fun.

My conversation with D. continues. What does she want from me? What might she give me? I continue to be fascinated by her intelligence and her strength but the mixed signals she continues to send my way are beginning to become a bit wearying. I've offered to be her sex slave or to be a more mutual lover, but I still don't know where here authentic desires lie. This is frustrating, particularly for an addict whose main stock in trade is ferreting out specifically what a potential sexual partner wants and then working as hard as humanly possible to give it to her. D. keeps me continually off balance and I'm not sure I like that precarious position at all. Still, I await her messages with great anticipation.

Friday, July 24, 2009

Talk, talk, talk

A lot of talk going on today, particularly with men.... I'm really much more into women these days, but the men are so much more plentiful, so much easier to meet, and so much more willing to do whatever I want, that sometimes they are hard to resist. I mean what’s an addict supposed to do, turn down free sex? ‘Just say no’ is just not a part of our repertoire. Both of these guys are ostensibly straight, one of them married as I am, and neither of them at all even remotely open about their sexuality. The married guy is a recent addition to the roster, who advertised himself to me as having a big cock, which I discovered is only somewhat true.** Having had limited experience with men, he expressed concern before we met about his ability to perform and his ability to achieve an orgasm--this in spite of his avid, nay intense, desire to meet. Once in the event, he became instantly hard as a rock and without too much work on my part, shot a truly gigantic quantity of sperm all over the room. So much for performance anxiety. He seems to be around today, as is another man who is constantly bombarding me with requests to service me. I have accepted his services several times--he is quite talented orally--but I am not attracted to him and would generally prefer other, mmm, outlets, so to speak. If the married guy shows up online and wants to meet, I am not sure about my response, but with not too much prodding I probably can be persuaded to meet. Of course that is pretty much always the case with me. Describing me as fairly easy would be like calling Amy Winehouse just a teensy bit self-destructive. Nonetheless, I would toss any of these guys over in a hearbeat, should one of my women partners make themselves available. As reported in an earlier post, my female friend M. and I engaged in non-stop sex for two hours last week. My longest session with a man? Maybe 20 minutes tops. With men it is all about getting off, at least for me. (Obviously I know that for genuinely gay men this is usually not the case, though I will have to say I have met my share for whom it is.)

Speaking about “ostensibly straight” by the way, if you are a man, and you like getting your cock sucked by another man (not to mention sucking or fucking another man), then you cannot under any conceivable definition of the term be described as “straight,” no matter how uncomfortable you are with the term “bisexual.” On the other side of the coin, the fact that a man has such desires in no way, shape, or form means that he should necessarily be classified as “gay” either. Yes, I know there are indeed many gay men in the closet, locked in marriages to women to whom they have no sexual attraction. But the gay community really needs to get a bit more honest about the reality of bisexuality, though that concept too has its limitations. My own view, based on a fairly substantial sample of experience, is that there are an awful lot of people, perhaps as much as 40-50% of the population (yes, I know, wildly speculative), who are at least somewhat attracted to some members of their own gender. This attraction can range from gentle curiosity, perhaps a mild stirring in the loins at the sight of a particularly attractive person of the same sex, to a full-on full-body sexual response when confronted with the right man or woman of one's dreams. As I have noted, I am much more attracted to women, and to a much broader array of female body types and personalities, than I am to men but I certainly am not straight. A slim, smooth, well-defined male body, particularly when endowed with an unusually large cock, will indeed launch my libido into overdrive. With the ideal man, I might even be tempted to take longer than the typical 15-20 minutes mentioned above. But even an average looking woman with a creative brain and a fun imagination can provoke the same response and probably sustain it considerably longer. So what exactly does that make me? Bi? I guess so.... The labels really don't help any of us very much, do they?

**See comments in my original post about the utter inability of most men to be even remotely honest about the size of their penises. Based on men's online profiles, one would conclude that the average cock size is about 8 inches, fully two inches longer than the actual average. One man I met with, after observing the length of my penis (actually, measurably--as with a tape measure--a bit over 8 inches) suggested to me that I should report my size online as over 9 inches, essentially to reflect the reality of “Internet inflation.” I refuse to resort to such flimflammery, but through the years I have grown increasingly tired of the endless lying on this point.)

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Work, work, work

Busy all day today with meetings, and off to a baseball game with a client tonight, so next to no opportunity to do anything today or to even write anything except this short note. A couple of pointless emails that went nowhere, a check on a couple of sites, and back into a meeting.... My addiction needs more time to be properly fed. Hopefully tomorrow.....

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Hungry but busy....

It's been a full week since I met with M. last Wednesday and the hunger has been steadily on the rise ever since, reaching near fever proportions at the moment. Unfortunately I am having a busy day at work, leaving me only enough time to watch just a little porn online, and exchange emails with D. and with the woman who wants me to share her with her husband. The latter seems absolutely real and quite sincere in her wish to meet.... But she wants to get together an hour north of my home, which makes it difficult to pull off. I have to come up with a way to make it work. In the meantime, I may have to masturbate to take the edge off just a little.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

The search continues....

A little more activity today, entirely via the Internet, including a new woman who may or may not be genuinely interested.... and a couple who likes to invite men to share in sexual pleasures with the wife.... (She has a particular fetish of a sort that we need not get into here, other than to say that as a sex addict I am pretty much willing to try anything except, in my case, human excrement in any form, blood, animals, or children in any way whatsoever, even role play. As a parent, I can't even countenance that particular predilection....)

I also have exchanged a couple more emails and chatted a bit with my mysterious dominant D., who frustrates me, angers me, charms me, and fascinates me. I have no idea where our conversations are leading, which is interesting in itself, but we seem to be strongly drawn to one another. I am sincerely hoping we get a chance to meet....

Monday, July 20, 2009


It's Monday and I'm finding it hard to get in touch with any of my real or potential sexual partners. I've tried to initiate instant message sessions, I've sent emails, I've answered Craigslist ads. I've made my usual visits to my four primary web site sources. Nothing, no response, zip. (I did exchange a couple of emails with someone to whom I am not really attracted, but that hardly counts, does it?) A day like this leaves me feeling frustrated, a little desperate, and very much on edge. I know there are those who refuse to see compulsive sexual behavior as a genuine addiction but if they could spend a day like today inside my skin they might change their views. (A visit to a 12-step meeting to listen to the storytellers there would likewise make believers of them.) This hunger, this intense need to make connection, to get even the smallest sexual thrill, can become almost unbearable. Masturbation might relieve it momentarily, but that is a very limited fix, so paltry for me, in fact, that I rarely engage in it these days. I had a marathon of sexual activity with a new woman just last Wednesday--wouldn't you think that would be enough to tide me over for at least five days? No chance. The hunger is back, and with a vengeance.

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Home, home....

So here I am enjoying a day with my family, doing so quite happily, and feeling essentially no need to act out at all. (I did read an email and sent one in reply to my dominant woman friend--let's call her D.--who had gotten very angry with me in our last instant message exchange, essentially cutting me off, cursing me violently, and then going immediately offline.** (Sort of the equivalent of hanging up on me, I guess.) But other than that, I've been a very good boy. It is days like this that make me wonder why I feel so overwhelmed by my desires sometimes. Of course, in the past, when I have created immovable obstacles to my behavior as a kind of test to see how I would handle the deprivation, I have always found myself climbing the walls within a few days, desperate to escape to the addictive behavior. For today, though, I am basking in the warmth of the family I cherish. It does feel good.

**More in a later post on the somewhat strange relationship I seem to be building with her....

Friday, July 17, 2009

A quiet day....

Not much activity today, but of course I checked on all four of the websites I use to trawl for sex partners.... sent an email to M. and to my dominant female friend..... and received an email from a woman who I thought had lost interest. I was delighted to learn that apparently she has not, though it does sound like she has some logistical problems that may make a meeting a bit difficult. I also had an instant message session with a woman I used to have sex with regularly; for a variety of reasons we stopped but I am hoping to see her again soon. I watched some porn online, which tends to have the natural effect of making me very hungry....

Thursday, July 16, 2009


A casual reader is probably wondering how I am able to engage in the behaviors I describe without suffering from crippling guilt about breaking my marriage vows, betraying my spouse, lying to friends and family to cover up my activities, etc., etc. That is a very big question, and one I'm sure I'll return to frequently in the future. But for now, suffice it to say the following: Keep in mind, first of all, that I am a functioning addict. Just as there are so-called functional alcoholics, there are also functional sex addicts.** As such, and unlike many of my fellow addicts, I am able to modulate my behavior sufficiently enough to avoid significant damage to my family. (Of course there are hidden costs to all concerned, but that is for another post.) Second, in my case, my wife and I have not had a significant sexual relationship for years, so my behavior has not impacted that situation one way or another. (She remains my best friend.) Third and most importantly, we addicts seem to have an almost endless capacity for compartmentalization, making it surprisingly possible to engage in some form of illicit sex at one minute, and then, in the next, to be genuinely present for and supportive of my family. Finally, never forget that as addicts we have an endless ability to rationalize, to self-justify, and to minimize the perils of our own behavior. I can certainly understand that there may be readers who will see all of the above as one gigantic act of rationalization.

**The 12-step recovery people would have you believe that this is impossible, that the nature of addiction inevitably leads to more and more egregious forms of acting out, which without exception lead to disastrous legal, medical, and personal consequences. I would suggest, however, that such a conclusion is based far more on the nature of the limited self-selecting sample of people these programs are dealing with than with the nature of the phenomenon itself. Of course, there are indeed many, many people with addictions like mine, who do indeed spin utterly out of control, completely unable to manage their behavior to minimize the damage to their lives and to their families. In fact this outcome may be the most prevalent one. But the predominance of this model cannot negate the reality of people like me, who have learned over time how to keep the addictive behaviors within the limits needed to safeguard their public lives.

The Day After

I'm still basking a bit in the afterglow of my marathon sex session with M. yesterday, but that has hardly kept me from pursuing several other potential partners via email today. One is very strong, very smart, very dominant; the other is more conventionally feminine and ultimately more logistically feasible. Like most addicts, I have dabbled in a wide variety of so-called "alternative" sexual expressions, and d/s (dominance/submission) play has always fascinated me. I've paid for it--again most addicts have paid for sex at one time or another in their lives--but found the commercial aspect of the transaction subverted the entire d/s dynamic. I mean, how genuinely dominant can a woman be with me if she knows I am paying for the session and she needs to tailor her behavior to keep me coming back for more? It seems a bit like "topping from the bottom," a phrase used in the d/s community to describe a submissive that finds ways to manipulate the dynamic with his mistress, in essence making himself the dominant one in the situation. I have always wanted to find a woman who is naturally dominant and enjoys playing that role with men in a sexual scenario. Is my new-found friend potentially such a partner? I am certainly going to endeavor to find out.

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Wednesday, July 15, 2009

A consummation

I met a woman for sex today. Let's call her M. We went to a local hotel and had mad, very passionate, almost porno-worthy sex for literally two hours. She is a married woman, clearly in need of some passion in her life and we enjoyed one another thoroughly. She has a wonderfully lithe, almost lissome, body and is blessed with smooth, lustrous skin that seems to send an almost electrical jolt to my libido, jamming my desire switch into the on position in a seemingly permanent way. (Is this what it means to be “turned on?”) We moved through an astonishing gamut of positions, all designed from my point of view to provide her with maximum pleasure. Her moaned endearments and open expression of pleasure, including the words “incredible” and “amazing” over and over, more than fulfilled my desperate and typical addict’s need for validation. This may sound a tad self-congratulatory, but we actually lost track of how many times she came. One fairly fundamental reality: Sex addicts tend to be extremely good lovers. Unlike many men, who simply want to get off and get out (or should those phrases be reversed?), the addict basks in the experience and never wants it to end. After all, the sexual thrill is pretty much our life's blood. So we will do whatever it takes to prolong it, an approach that in general results in an experience that is pretty damned good for all concerned. (I am quite sure M. never had someone make love to her for so long.) The logistics with M. are fairly daunting--she does not live nearby and she has a husband and several children to juggle--but I am quite certain we will meet again.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Another day, another candidate....

I have long had the fantasy of meeting with a couple for a so-called mfm (male-female-male) threesome.... I answered an ad on craigslist from a couple looking for a man to join them for sex--I seemed to possess the attributes they were seeking--and received an email in response expressing interest. The deal as presented is this: If I allow myself to be orally serviced by the husband, I will subsequently get the opportunity to have sex with the wife. Now, of course, I recognize the potential for deception in this proposal; the husband (if he is indeed really married) may simply be using his wife as a lure to persuade men to meet with him; since he describes himself as the screener, he can choose, after getting what he wants, to simply tell me that I am not right for his wife, thereby avoiding my discovering his deception. What he doesn't realize is that, as a sex addict, I don't really care--I'll happily take oral sex from anyone who wants to give it to me. I would much prefer that the proposal is for real and that it leads to a genuine liaison with his wife, but if not, I can live with it. I have learned that in many cases, of course, the entire situation as presented is bogus--the husband has already disappeared a couple of times on me--so we will see if any part of the proposal is real. In any case, he got back in touch this morning expressing a desire to connect. We will see.

Monday, July 13, 2009

A new candidate....

I just began corresponding with a new woman from a "dating" website, one specifically geared to married people seeking affairs. (Apparently the term "dating" has come to encompass a bewilderingly broad array of activities, including people devoted to every form of sexual fetish imaginable. Can lying on the floor while a partner showers you with urine really be categorized as "dating?") We have similar sensibilities and seem to like one another. But, as is inevitably the case, the issue of physical attraction must be resolved, usually through an exchange of pictures, initially, particularly with women, those showing our faces. It represents a sort of terrible moment of truth for me, since I am not especially photogenic and tend to be---like a lot of people I suspect---a lot more attractive in person when I have the opportunity to use a greater array of charms. The etiquette at the picture stage seems to be surprisingly ill-formed these days, with many people apparently considering it acceptable when receiving a picture they find less than attractive to simply go completely silent, leaving their former correspondents utterly in the dark. Eventually of course the message becomes clear, but why a simple "thanks, but no thanks" isn't easier on all concerned truly escapes me.

Thankfully, in this case, we seem to find one another's pictures acceptable and the correspondence has continued. I like this woman so far and she is close to me, making the logistics of a possible gettogether much more promising.

By the way, please don't conclude, simply because I am a sex addict, that I still would not prefer sex with someone I like, someone with whom I can share a bit more than the physical act alone. I have sometimes told myself that if I had three or four women I liked, with whom I could have satisfying and regular sex, that I would happily cease the continual hunting for partners forever. I am of course completely aware that I may be kidding myself on this point.... but I would love to have the opportunity to find out.


I can't get in touch with any potential sexual partners today and that frustrates me. I am losing much of my interest in men, as more women seem to be on the radar screen these days.... and I will probably be meeting one for sex on Wednesday.... I am greatly looking forward to it, but I need my fix today. Even a couple of emails or, preferably, a titillating instant message session, could be enough, but no one seems to be around. It makes me begin to feel a bit like a caged animal.

Who am I?

I'm a good and decent person. I love my wife. I care deeply for my children. I support my community. I give to charity. I believe in God, though admittedly not in a particularly orthodox way. I'm thoughtful and considerate; I treat friends and colleagues with respect. With certain very notable exceptions that will become apparent quite quickly, I honor my commitments. I am a smart and capable professional who is successful and highly valued in his career. I play golf, drink only in moderation, and am considered unusually trustworthy.

I am also willing to have sex of almost every variety with virtually anyone possessing a heartbeat. I am much more attracted to women, but in a pinch, I am more than prepared to have sex with men as well. Defining sex as a physical act that involves at least one person in addition to myself and results in my own orgasm--when you engage in as many bizarre sexual acts as I have, these are the sorts of semi-hairsplitting definitions one has to use--I have had sex with somewhere upwards of 300 people. Since the median number of partners for the American male has fairly recently been established as 7 (, this prodigious total puts me in fairly rarified company I suppose. If I were to expand the definition to include lap dances, masturbation booths, massage parlors, phone sex, online cam masturbation, etc., etc., the number would quickly swell, so to speak, to well over 1,000 but, hey, you have to draw the line somewhere.

This past Saturday night, I performed oral sex on a man I met through a gay-oriented website. With my family away without me for the weekend (an extremely rare occurrence), I had spent most of the day searching listings for women and hoping perhaps to meet with a favorite female sexual partner of mine, but we were unable to make the logistics work, so I turned to men to meet the all-consuming need that I felt building in intensity as the day wore on. When it comes to men, I am partial to big cocks--I am quite well endowed myself--and he appeared to have one. He was also married and we seemed to be a good match in that sense as well. You would think I would have learned from my numerous encounters in the past never to meet male partners without pictures of more than their genitalia, but the cock picture and his "stats" (height, weight, etc.) seemed compelling enough to cause me to meet with him anyway. In the end, I found nothing attractive about him at all. His body, though reasonably fit, was ill-proportioned and too hairy for my taste. His cock, though fairly good-sized, was nowhere near his stated length of 8.5 inches. Nonetheless I sucked him enthusiastically while jerking myself off and he finished with a prodigious and I suspect quite satisfying load. Should he be presented to me in a police lineup some six months from now, I seriously doubt that I would be able to identify him. And there is utterly no chance that I will ever meet with him again.

My family returned the next day and I spent Sunday wrapped in the warm cocoon of domestic tranquility, offering all who came within my orbit lots of love and affection.

So who am I, really? Stay tuned.

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