Yesterday I wrote as follows :
"I fear I may have given the impression that I despise heterosexuals, allow me to state this quite clearly : A man has to do a lot more evil than loving a woman to be my enemy. However, we are not talking about decent well raised youths facing life's challenges while trying to provide for a young family, we are talking about supposedly heterosexual guys performing homosexual acts for money - that is, I'm afraid, the very definition of a whore. Do I care that most of them are neither evil nor bad? No I do not. Furthermore, exactly how much respect do you want me to have for someone who provides me with a visual masturbatory aid? About as much respect as I have for the real life whores I fuck, that's how much I'm willing to give. I'm old, I'm ugly, ergo, I pay for sex. Actually I pay so they can piss off when I'm done, but I think you get where I'm going with this.
RS is indubitably a very beautiful young man, but he is not a loser, he is someone throwing his shoulder to the wheel and dragging himself up his chosen career path using his talents, his wits, his street-smarts and most all, sheer old-fashioned hard work. There are better ways to celebrate being young and beautiful than becoming a whore. He's too good for that, just as he is too good to ever hear me say : "Shut the fuck up and suck my dick." I think you will find young RS in total agreement with that sentiment.
Kindly let us not fall into the farcical self-delusion, thought up by, who else, American victim feminists, that whores deserve to be treated as equals. A sentiment as patently absurd as that lie in the American Constitution that all men are born equal. Really? And the cheque's in the mail, and don't worry, I won't cum in your mouth. The great comedian Groucho Marx once turned down an invitation to a country club because he did not care to belong to a club who will have someone like him for a member. In exactly the same way I do not care for anyone prepared to sleep with someone like me - for free. I pay for my membership of
Broke Straight Boys, it is my right and my privilege to regard the actors any way I damn-well please.
I would hate for a handsome ambitious young queerling to feel the need to lower himself in such a manner. After all, the internet is full of young men who have nothing but good looks. At least by whoring themselves out they're serving a very useful function - they're not using up welfare money. In my life I have made grave errors, faced up to them, overcome huge obstacles and not only have I survived, I am thriving. So do I believe I'm better than a mere whore? Yes."
Last night I couldn't sleep so I phoned my best friend, a retired banker, and asked if I could visit ; 20 min. later I was sitting on his couch drinking tea and watching him read the final draft of the above : "You write well." he said. "I know", I replied, succeeding in keeping my voice nonchalant. "You're also an arrogant boorish cunt. You really think you're the first one who has had a rough life? I got news for you bitch, a lot of people have faced worse problems than you and they have done rather better for themselves than you have. You've also forgotten that the only difference between you and some ancient crack-whore is you got lucky. You have no humility left in you Johan, you have become the very person you profess to despise - a bully. You don't know why guys do porn, you haven't walked in their shoes, yet you sit in judgment of them. The reason you have reduced yourself to having whores instead of lovers has nothing to do with your age or your looks ; you're a coward, afraid of love, afraid of life. That's why you moved back in with your parents, so you could still feel like the worthless failure that father of yours so desperately wanted. As long as you live in your prison no-one can get close to you, no-one can love you. You're not caring for him, you're hiding. Sometimes you make me sick."
Then things got really ugly - we've been best friends for more than thirty years, we prefer our honesty brutal. When I got home I went into my father's room to check up on him, he was sleeping. I looked at this pathetic stroke paralysed incontinent creature and I felt nothing. No hatred, no anger, no love ; just indifference. Then I went to bed, alone.
Didn't feel like going to work today so here I am sitting in front of my computer reading what I wrote. And remembering - earlier this year a most beautiful young man asked me on a date. I declined, citing the age difference, him being a student, me being an employee of the university, the inappropriateness of consorting with the youth of my land I'm paid to assist in educating themselves. "I'm really sorry to hear you say that, getting into your brain would be a journey I would have remembered for the rest of my life." God he was beautiful, still is, he's met an equally glorious looking guy and they've been seeing each other for a while now. I congratulated him the other day and told him they make a stunning couple. "Yes" he said, "he looks nice, but there is so much more to life than a pretty face. After all, being pretty wasn't enough to tempt you was it?" He looked really angry. He has a right to be, I lied to him, I declined his advances because I was too scared to risk loving someone who could love me.
Colin was right, I am an arrogant boorish cunt. And a coward. And lonely. But at least I write well.
Pervert.
on this topic.
