Posts tagged drunk
No, I’m not talking about that cheesy movie from a long time ago. I think that last post was a bit harsh. I was trying to maintain a sense of humor, but as always, i got really critical of the very audience that has supported my work for nearly a decade. I wasn’t really insulting the entire audience though, just the ones who have never actually supported the work because they always watched stuff that came out for free.
I don’t want to get started all over again about that, but I just wanted to say that without taking the time to go re-read what I wrote, I will get a little more specific about who I meant to be critical of. It’s one thing to be complimented on work that someone saw completely free, but it’s another thing when other people are literally posting entire clips on a file sharing site, and then suddenly there are over a dozen clips floating around “for free”. Then someone responds to some twitter update by saying how great the content is, but they have never actually paid for it.
There is a consequence of doing that, and eventually, it is called “going out of business.” I should not have complained so harshly in that previous post, but later on that day I started to come down with symptoms of some kind of cold. The next day I had a fever over 100 degrees and I was sick for nearly 2 weeks with a pretty severe sinus infection.
In the middle of all that, I was informed that my van was going to get towed away soon at great expense if I did not get rid of it on my own, or finally fix it and renew registration. They would charge $300 for the tow that I did not want even if I told them to keep the van. I called the tow company, and they made an offer to buy the van for $50, but I had already made arrangements to sell it for $60 to another guy.
That might sound like I was ripped off something horrible, because the fuel pump I replaced just months before cost more than that. It cost me $300 to have the transmission mounts replaced, so that one bracket could come loose and nearly break my steering column. Now the van is not going to be a money pit any longer, and I believe that positive changes have happened because I got rid of it. Because there is less money coming in, the van will stop leeching money that I can’t even use as a business expense because the van wasn’t used in the business. The van became a real problem on a regular basis, and was no longer very reliable, so it simply had to go.
The van was simply too messed up after the transmission bracket came loose to fix easily. Even if the bracket could have been put back, the steering column was hit and leaking, and that was going to go sooner or later and in a very unsafe and probably horrifying way. So, I had to say goodbye to the van I have had for nearly a decade right in the middle of the worst illness I’ve experienced in that same period of time. I never get sick, but I had worn myself down with stress and anxiety about too many things, and I had to finally let the van go.
So, I just wanted to post a note here as I logged in to check on updates and other stuff. I know that i was being really insulting to an entire group of people out there who will never, ever pay for content. I can’t blame them in a way, but still, I am a “small business” not a big Hollywood studio. I know that other small businesses have gotten larger with expansion, but at this point, I have other issues going on that prevent me from giving 100% of myself to any business.
Just last week I tripped myself on the cane I use to walk because I need a hip replacement. In the fall I hurt the “good leg”, so it was even harder to walk for a few days. It just happened to be right before a weekend spent with a friend where I would want to help them out by doing some house work. Then, she discourages me from drinking, on the night I really could have used it, so I just passed out. I needed a drink more than ever being in the kind of pain I was in, and trying not to take pain pills for it. Luckily it didn’t hurt when I wasn’t moving or walking, so I was able to pass out, regardless of what kind of plans she may have had for “later”.
When I do finally quit drinking, that will be my decision. Being told “no” by someone is a harsh reminder of the way I am guiding my life in the next few months. It’s never too late to stop what is planned, but I have a feeling I’m going to have to go through the whole experience to know that I “maybe should not have done that.” I know I’m talking in code, but maybe in the near future I’ll be spilling all kinds of stuff here because I won’t have much else to do.
The title might be misleading, because I am not talking about anxiety on a ‘hardcore’ level. That would become apparent without explanation, but I was compelled to use that title before thinking of how it would appear to have a different meaning than what I wanted to infer, simply because the story of why it exists would clear it up without this ‘disclaimer’ being used to clarify.
I found this unusual feeling of anxiety come over me just before posting the last clip on the store. It is a hardcore clip, and I really like this one because I had been practicing some mental exercises to regain a much higher level of climax control.
It had been a long time since getting back in front of the camera myself, and the previous time, there was more time spent waiting for climax to chill the fuck out instead of doing some serious continuous porno style pounding.
I don’t have anxiety about getting in front of the camera, because in the end, I choose what to release and what not to release. At the same time, I still ponder releasing content that shows me passing out drunk while trying to have sex with a ssbbw and she’s texting people on her phone.
I think that shit is awesome. I find the reality sense of flawed work more interesting than something that looks plastic, fake, and magazine cut out. I find it funny when I am failing in front of the camera as I look at it afterwards. While in front of the camera, because I have been doing this for over a decade, I don’t feel anxiety at all about it. I can’t, because if I were to let that creep in, I would have difficulty in maintaining erection AND controlling climax at the same time.
That is the worst too, because if there is ANY effort being put forth in order to maintain an erection, one has to continually skate the edge of climax. If there is ANY issues going on with maintaining control of climax, you are just fucked, and not in a good way.
Just wanted to add some music, if it stays there, but this is a stable channel. I almost laughed as I typed that. I have had 8 youtube channels deleted because even though Candy was not nude in any of the clips, they were considered “obscene”, according to the standard terms of service note that let me know they were digitally murdering 8 of my fucking channels.
There is probably more anxiety about doing hardcore video on Candy’s side than mine. I don’t have anxiety because again, I can just delete the clip, or distribute it for free somewhere as if it got “leaked”. I use EVERYTHING though. My first porno was on VHS tape, and I got it mail order by lying about my age by signing some bogus form, after saving up from mowing lawns to buy my first VCR just for this purpose.
The first porno was not edited at all. There was a disembodied voice of a producer in the background telling them what to do. There was also a lot of laughing and messing around that was probably supposed to be cut out. Some guy literally paid a couple of people to fuck in front of a camera, then placed a tiny ad in the back of a porno, and sold this shit probably out of his house.
The actors in that first porno were not fat. I wanted to see “porno” because I had been exposed to it “at a friend’s house” at probably the age of 14 or 15. Once I got a taste, I had to keep watching it sooner or later. I believe one of the first films I ever saw was “taboo”, but I can’t be sure if it was that movie, or if that was a preview that was shown before the cheesy crap that was being put out at that time.
I eventually tripped across fat porn by literally calling every 1 800 number associated with every porno ad in the back of every porno mag I could get my hands on. Long before the internet, I was doing research by literally cold calling porn distributors asking them for fat porn.
Using that technique, I eventually came across a few fat porno tapes, but a lot of them were from Europe, because back in the 80’s, nobody thought of using fat models for porno until some creepy guy started calling all of them asking for fat porn.
I remember “wrinkles and ripples”, which was probably made in the UK, because there was no dialogue, only shitty music, but there was a scene where two guys walk into a building, and the architecture is unmistakably European, and early 80’s. One or both of these 2 guys walking into a fat prostitute’s apartment were not circumcised either, which is a sure sign that they were not in America.
I am circumcised because it was forced on me, but I’ll take it, because a lot of women seem to prefer it. I still don’t think it’s cool to just do it without permission from the male though. People bitch about genital mutilation in Africa while they do this shit to every male born as a standard in the USA. Anyway…
That first porn with fat women actually had old people too, hence, the “wrinkles” part of the title. Back in the 80’s, they were combining fetishes in these combo tapes because nobody assumed that fat could stand on it’s own. As the years passed, and we get into the 90’s, I remember going to a few adult book stores that were destined to be closed down by shitting fake religious Louisiana politics. Those book stores actually took the leap and had a “fat section” that was separate from “weird and freak” type stuff.
I could almost feel relief that for once, the BDSM and D/S stuff was considered “freakier” than fat porn. Maybe I wasn’t a total freak for being attracted to super sized women after all. No, I am a fucking freak and a half.
So, there is zero anxiety about performing in the porn coming from me, but Candy might be concerned about having a complexion that exists in reality rather than having a magic wand that could photoshop her ass in real life. I know that some of my work could be criticized because I don’t touch up complexion or use filters to hide shit. I have always considered my work to be “real”, and then this shitty “reality television” crap came along.
It’s ironic that people don’t see the connection between the content I create and “reality tv”. Maybe because my shit is “porn” so it can’t count as “reality”. It’s really ironic because porn is about as real as people can get, when they know each other and have been doing this shit for over a decade. When you toss 2 people in a room with a full crew and a producer yelling out instructions in between takes, I’m sure it’s not as real as my shit is. The corporate stuff is so fucking *pretty* though, so it has it’s own following. My shit is gritty, and sometimes literally ugly, and that’s what I like about it.
When I look around at fat porn, I am most drawn to the content that features more realistic models, with actual real life flaws, who act like real people. Heavy duty faking is annoying, begging for cum and then reacting to it like it’s nuclear waste is annoying. Two people acting really attracted to each other while they actually can’t stand each other is not going to translate very well with people who are “porn stars” and not “actors”.
My shit is real, flaws and all. I almost think about it like some kind of perfectly balanced equation. Nothing can be perfect. If perfection was a requirement for existence we would not fucking be here. It’s wild that as I get older, I start to see porn like MATH. In fact, I am starting to see this entire reality being broken down into common denominators and simplified fractions. It’s almost like how the characters in The Matrix were able to see what was going on from streams of numbers and characters across a screen.
When Candy is worried about a flaw or imperfection, I try to remind her, that she is thinking with her brain, and not my customer base’s collective brain. When I saw imperfection, I feel some kind of common ground with people who are literally “out of my league”. If a woman doesn’t have a perfect complexion, or she has some obvious flaw, it makes her more “real” in my eyes.
Imperfection doesn’t seem like a very real qualifying factor in making someone more attractive. We generally see imperfection as something that takes away from perfection. The real truth is, all “fat people” are already considered “flawed” based on their fat appearance. Trying to make flawed fat perfect is something I wish I had a clever analogy for off the top of my head. Maybe “lipstick on a pig”, but that might sound insulting and harsh. Cliche is rarely friendly or politically correct while trying to convey a message of truth that few really want to hear or believe.
I can talk to her all I want about how she is just the perfect fulfillment of an equation that makes her known at all in a world of plastic people, but it won’t help. She is working with her brain, her bias, her experience, her wisdom, her perception, and her reality. As I get older we get along better because instead of being personally offended by some of her observations, I can appreciate just how different her perception can be from mine, as we both simultaneously experience the exact same reality, as 2 unique observers.
Every once in a while Candy will say “fuck it, let’s fuck in front of the cam”, and I am down, like setting lights up before she finishes the sentence. I jump in there full throttle, so much so I might forget to take my socks off and look ridiculous. It doesn’t matter, I leave it in there. 🙂
I love doing it. I get a rush from fucking in front of the camera that brings me back to my “first time” long before Florida and Lexi from fatfantasy.net. I remember spending long days in a back room repairing computers fantasizing about using one to make money instead of having to figure out complex computer issues all day every fucking day.
The first chance I get to express this desire to create fat content, it starts to take off, and then I figure out that I can’t co-exist with Lexi at that age, and that level of impulsive behavior not checked by a clear sense of consequence or long term planning. I was “young, dumb, and full of cum” and I could not resist fucking exactly the woman I wasn’t supposed to exactly when I wasn’t supposed to exactly where I wasn’t supposed to.
I rebelled against Lexi’s control, because I was really in control of all that shit, and she was confined to a bed barking out orders and making unreasonable demands, and conning the fuck out of me the whole time. I deserved it, I was young and stupid, I made promises I could not keep, and I could not resist opportunity when I had multiple bbws and ssbbws flirting with me and tempting me to step out now and then.
i walked away from Lexi and started all the way over from step one. I worked for 3 years for someone else while I slowly accumulated new content and started from scratch. I managed to pull it off though, and by 2002 I was working on version 2 of hotbbws.com because Lexi shut me down for using the Florida shit the first time.
Getting in front of the camera again was getting revenge on Lexi for taking all that content away from me. I have seen content with me in it now and then, and it always reminds me of how I don’t have copies of that shit myself, because I was a fucking “nice guy” and didn’t just take all that fucking shit with me when I left.
I didn’t even take a camera. I had to work for months to save up to buy my first fucking digital camera after leaving Florida because I was too fucking stupid to just take the shit that my credit paid for.
Ok, enough of that. Maybe that conveys the passion and drive behind everything I did after I left Florida. There can’t be anxiety about creating hardcore content within me because I literally get off creating it.
The reason for using the title hardcore anxiety is because of a feeling that sometimes comes over me at that last moment before I am about to post the content I have already created, edited, and uploaded.
I should be so anxious to get it out there I can’t stand it, but sometimes I actually procrastinate before taking the final steps of writing the description and hitting “add to store”. Once I start writing the description, I am into it big time. The last description I wrote was probably so weird that people might want to buy the clip just to see what the fuck I am talking about.
Once I start writing, something seems to just take over, like right now, as I check and see that I am rapidly approaching 2000 words and instead of wanting to stop, my fingers are moving faster and faster. I can type up to 80 words per minute if I am in a good mood and not drunk, and when I start writing here, I may actually go higher than that. I get the figure 80 from the last pre-employment typing test that I took, so that was an unbiased computer generated test with a result that I could only influence by actually typing really fucking fast on demand.
Writing the description soothes the mysterious anxiety that comes about just before adding the clip. I love creating the content, I am excited while editing it, and I can’t wait to promote it. At the same time, i started this follow back shit on twitter, so now I am about to post really inappropriate content still images to a bunch of people following me just to get a follow back.
I don’t have anxiety about losing followers on twitter, because every time I lose 10, I get 40 more at the same time. I don’t even care about twitter itself so much, because it started out as an experiment to figure out how it works, and why people are so bat shit crazy about it.
I still don’t even use a smartphone, so I’m not seeing that shit constantly all day. I didn’t log in at all yesterday, but I did take a moment to log into “tweepi” just to “flush” unfollowers and reciprocate new followers by following them back.
I have managed to make twitter so mathematical and impersonal, I may have actually defeated the entire purpose for it’s existence, except as a source of amusement now and then when I am already procrastinating.
So, I experimented myself right the fuck out of feeling good about promoting my shit. At the same time, I have picked up so many fat, bbw, and ssbbw porn reposters that I could lose %90 of my followers and the remaining %10 were actually MORE IMPORTANT than all the rest. Twitter is mathematically fascinating to me.
Yeah, it’s very impersonal when I can log into an app outside of twitter itself and do 69 clicks to resolve the imbalance between people I follow, and assholes who add me to get a follow back and then unfollow me like I don’t fucking know they did that. I’m ready to start seeing repeated attempts to do this shit by familiar avatars.
I don’t even fucking care about twitter, but now it has turned into some kind of game for me, which is actually more exciting than World of Warcraft ever was. It involves real people with fake avatars just like a MMORPG, but this is a different type of game, because it also involves gaining followers in a specific niche and working the fuck out of it.
So, it’s like the first “video game” I have come across that amuses me to the point of wanting to do it every few days, but at the same time, instead of collecting fictional “gold”, I am acquiring followers who will tend to repost my shit when I am putting out some awesome new SSBBW hardcore and I actually stopped procrastinating long enough to list it.
Hardcore anxiety in my situation is really minor, and it only takes place at the most perfect time, when all the hard work is done already. This minor anxiety is something that I want to dig deeper into my own brain to figure out. I have tried to attribute it to the PTSD left over from Candy’s previous departures. I have wondered if I occasionally suffer from premature ejaculation for the same reason. It’s like i want to shoot my load in her before she can take off again or something! 🙂
I still have climax control, but every once in a while, that shit sneaks up on me. The time when I created the horse head mask hardcore video, the scenario of wearing a mask excited me unexpectedly to the point where I was struggling big time with climax control. I still managed to pull it off, in a few different positions no less, but it was a constant struggle, believe me.
The next hardcore clip had more preparation and getting into position than it had hard sustained pounding. Again, the fact that it had been so rare to create hardcore after all those feedee clips, contributed to difficulty in containing my excitement and my cum too.
I have found that having just a few beers, not getting loaded, but just barely buzzed, can help a great deal. Of course, if you cross a line and go too far with alcohol, there is a potential for difficulty in maintaining erection too. I can’t help but remember the song “Too Drunk To Fuck” by the Dead Kennedys.
I don’t resort to that though, because Candy doesn’t like to have sex with drunk people, and even if we have been together since Feb of 2002, if I am buzzed, I’m still “drunk people” in her perception, and I understand that. I also don’t like to resort to the use of drugs in order to control aspects of my self, or my being. When I use drugs for intoxication, I am exploring a part of myself that I can’t access while sober. That is different.
So, without any enhancement from alcohol, or even Viagra, I have a damn good time in front of the camera. The last video clip that featured hardcore was excellent. I had Candy nearly trying to fake orgasm to get me to climax, because I was getting kind of rough on her, and going on a little longer than necessary for her sexual preference. At the same time, I had finally done just enough hardcore video in just short enough increments that it just started to “come back to me” like “riding a bicycle”.
Even then, the evening that I could have posted the new clip I ended up getting drunk, and when I get intoxicated to a certain degree, I really don’t want to write because it is going to be so fucked up and make even less sense than I manage to make when I am fucking sober, like now.
So, hardcore anxiety is something I still deal with in that strange procrastination technique. Even with that one evening delay, the next day, I was so eager to list that clip that I literally could not do anything else until it was complete. Sometimes, the anxiety may just be a simple sense of timing. Maybe posting it the night before was just a little too soon, because it had not even been a week since posting the last clip.
Maybe the hardcore anxiety is less related to the type of clip, but the fact that I literally can’t wait to list it, so I have to stop myself and hold out as long as possible before slamming that shit up!
Either way, that clip is up, and I am tempted to post another clip on the day that the hardcore clip would have been normally added on a once a week schedule. I don’t want to exceed the once in a week schedule because I am literally concerned about making too much money to be eligible for medicaid, while I am carrying out that whole separate experiment.
Maybe the reason i was compelled to write and get to the bottom of this one thing was just to help me come to the conclusion that I just wrote. One experiment is actually getting in the way of another. Because I have lived with this cursed sense of irony, a part of me may actually be creating a concern about making “too much money” because that’s exactly what a part of me really wants.
What a first world problem to have though huh? Maybe it’s because I need a hip replacement and I am very concerned about being made even more disabled than I am with a bad hip, so I have to maintain the low income to make a transition into disability much more convenient.
Maybe I am concerning myself with the possibility of being physically more fucked up and making too much money because a part of me has experienced something all through life where my low expectations generate a much more emphatic positive reaction when I was wrong about what “could happen”.
I worry about making too much money, and a part of myself realizes just how easy it is for me to make money, and I am left with a variable in an equation that involves future probability entangled with low expectations versus the motivation and drive to do “better than expected”.
More simplified, by worrying about making too much money, I am kind of guaranteeing myself that I will, just to fulfill some kind of passive aggressive inner conflict.
By worrying that some surgeon is going to fuck my hip up, I would be highly pleased at an outcome where I can still walk, and actually have less pain that I do now.
I know, that is a totally fucked up way to live, but then again, it’s the way that I have continually gotten everything I wanted, so much so, that I am left to worry about things that I can’t control, which I have to stop myself from dwelling on, so I can continue to control reality enough to get what I want out of it.
I have to actually concentrate to think of the next thing I “really want”. Odds are, I am going to get it, but I hesitate in even granting focus to something I think I want, because of the possible unintended consequences that may go along with it.
At this age, at this point in my life, knowing what I know, I would never have fallen for the tricks that Lexi played to get everything. At the same time, I don’t have the need to search for and find another Lexi, because as many times as I have lost her, I am still with Candy.
Maybe all of this helps me to work out the lingering PTSD involved with almost losing Candy repeatedly. I know that I still have abandonment issues because of that, there is still some degree of insecurity because of it, and I never would have even attempted to carry out the kind of affair that I did last year if I wasn’t still suffering from some kind of residual emotional effect of her leaving both times.
Now I have caused a negative emotional impact on yet another innocent bystander because of the fickle nature of Candy’s whims. I am not openly resentful about that, but a part of me has not let go of it fully. I’m still bitching about Lexi and fatfantasy. net and that shit started in 1998 and ended in 2000. That little 2 years of my life is still fucking with me. It may be one of the main reasons that I am still creating hardcore content at all.
Another interesting thought comes from this stream of consciousness writing now. As I begin to finally resolve feelings of resentment for Lexi, I start to lose focus of my motivation and drive to create hardcore content in the first place.
Now a part of me can perceive what I am doing externally, because of all the experimentation with alcohol and weed. I can see this old guy who is desperately trying to hold on to some former position of glory, that can and will never be realized again. Maybe that’s part of what would be an otherwise normal “mid life crisis”, except that the biggest thing I accomplished in my life besides what I do now is that fucked up, highly traumatic 2 years with Lexi.
I am letting go of all that, or I started to really let go of it when I heard of her passing just weeks after I destroyed all my physical copies of that work. Irony strikes again. The only person obsessed with keeping me from using that work dies just weeks after I destroy it so I don’t have to look at it myself. Luckily I did save one cd full of photos out of 21 cds, and they were the ones that meant the most to me.
i can let go of the resentment for Lexi and still remained focus on creating what I truly love to create. After all, how many women closing in on 500lbs do you see getting fucked and swallowing right now??? 🙂
Yeah, I am really lucky to have the drive and desire to create this content and have such a willing participant. I don’t feel the loss of Lexi or that entire group anymore, because I have been guided by fate and destiny to be lucky enough to work with this super sized angel.
I managed to comb time and space in order to find one SSBBW that is not scared of cock or cum, and who loves doing this shit so much that if she is faking it is humorous instead of erotic. The truth is, once cock gets involved, she is not faking one bit.
That’s what makes her shit so great. I can see it when a woman is struggling to tolerate a situation, or has some kind of allergic reaction to cum after begging for it for 15 minutes.
I know that is harsh, and I realize that I could not possibly imagine what drives a woman who has such an adverse reaction to being cum on to do porn in the first place. At the same time, the phrase “you had one job” comes to mind too. I have had talks with Candy about this, and she points out that if it gets in your eye it burns, and I can accept that, but it doesn’t explain why some women will allow an actor to cum in her mouth and then literally gag even if she is going to spit it all out.
I never worked with a “real porn chick” before, because I am under the impression that I could not afford to hire them, and Candy would be somewhat intimidated to work with them, even in softcore “side by side” type modeling. There is one model that lives right here in Vegas that Candy and I have talked about, and we would be more than willing to come up with a few hundred to hire her, just because of who she is, but Candy is still intimidated by her.
There have been a few other women who have offered to model for the same amount, but they are escorts and not really professional models, so I am hesitant to invest a nickel in them because of the nature of being an escort in and of itself. From what I have heard, some of them are really good at word play to the point where a guy is paying them to feed them and just hang out without even going all the way. If an escort works to create that kind of scenario in a non modeling situation, I imagine that they would be hard to work with as they try to “let the clock run out” while doing the bare minimum and not really putting their heart into the modeling itself.
I could be wrong, an escort could be an excellent model, I just wouldn’t know, because I’m not spending $300 to find out! It’s hard for me to justify spending that kind of money to hire a model, when Candy appearing by herself is guaranteed to bring in something. I get the feeling that paying someone $300 to model next to her would never bring in that much more than a video clip of her by herself.
I’ve stopped asking around about modeling now, because it’s not really my place to do that. It’s up to Candy, because she is the one who has to stand, sit, or lay next to this person. Candy may not even be prepared to do that with another model at this point, so I am leaving it up to her if another model ever appears with her again. The last time one did, it was 2009, we were in Baton Rouge, and the woman didn’t want to get paid because she wanted “shared content”.
Here in Vegas, finding an established model that wants to do shared content with Candy is not as easy as you might think. I think everybody here wants to get paid, for anything, and I can’t blame them. At the same time, I see these group photo shoots and I know that each woman probably wasn’t paid individually, because they all have websites, and they could all use that as shared content. In a big group there isn’t usually anything sexual going on, just 3 to 5 big women hanging out while posing next to each other.
Candy hasn’t ended up in that situation, because she has not worked to create that situation. If she had any interest in going out to “bbw parties” and stuff like that, she would meet women there that do this kind of thing all the time. Candy has had a bit of social anxiety though, so without making a grand appearance at a bar somewhere, these other women will never meet her in public, and in the past 3 years, they have not made any effort to come to her.
I don’t really care anymore if I get to work with anyone else now, ever. I had a mild curiosity when I saw a few Vegas bbw models posing together, but then I realized, being a full time model is not even Candy’s “job”. She volunteers to do this for me. I am just lucky enough to be around when she is going on a food splurge, and she doesn’t mind me pointing a camera at her while she is binge eating.
I am also very lucky that Candy is ok with me bringing a camera into our sex life, because I don’t think there are very many SSBBWs at her size doing the sexually explicit type of content that I am creating. If there are, I just haven’t found them because I’m so busy making my own porn that I have lost interest in looking around at everyone else’s.
I can’t believe that as long as this post was already, I came back and added more to it. I guess I was thinking that I was too harsh to end this post with that statement about how unusual it is for a woman to take a job where she is begging to be cum on for 15 minutes and then suddenly has an involuntary spasm of disgust once she finally gets what she asks for. Why work in porn if you hate cum? 🙂
I got an impulse to write a note here, after months, and after abusing anything resembling “writing skills” by making a nuisance of myself to a few people online.
I have recognized a behavior, that has taken place over the past couple of months, that was simply a progression of an embedded behavior that started years ago, with my experiment in addiction transfer.
It is probably obvious what I transferred to, and I think that there is a blog post here from the distant past that goes into very specific detail about the process. I have to check that, because if I wasted it on facebook I am a dumb ass.
I may have written it in a long, drawn out, mostly skimmed over or completely unread email, to someone who could not take me seriously because I was making the observation while intoxicated.
Over the past few weeks, I made a serious effort to break out of the loop I had created and neatly inserted myself into. I created a series of “personal ads” on any and every site that would allow for contact before having to pay a membership.
In the process, I came across someone very unique. She had an hour glass shape, but she had a career that prevented any kind of sexual content from being created involving her. I got to know her well enough to respect her career enough to tell her never to let me or anyone else ever take nude photos of her.
Over the course of just days, some of the emails got pretty intense. I got to know things about this woman that she told me most of her closest friends didn’t know. Before I knew it, I was talking to a person instead of a body.
It had been a long time, since I had serious, in depth, mutually beneficial contact with the outside world. Over just a few days of talking to her, the energy I expelled was so great that I was distracted from drinking. After a few weeks of heavy drinking to knock back the stress of taxes and a malfunctioning health insurance exchange, I had started to cause a progression of the drinking that was draining me, and draining Candy as well.
While talking to this one individual, I was granted with a temptation to keep my facilities in tact instead of blowing them away partially with 8-10 Milwaukee’s Best Ice. I only realized after a few days how easy it was for me to pour myself into my interests rather than kill interest in anything with the abuse of alcohol.
I broke down the exact mechanism by which I was using alcohol to wipe out anxiety, but I needed that anxiety in order to maintain order. The more I allowed myself to escape a familiar, inspirational form of anxiety, the further behind I got on everything, and everyone.
Candy hadn’t gotten to the point where she was threatening to leave. She was patient, and somehow tolerating my behavior, occasionally reminding me that it was hurting her, and occasionally blowing up in such a way that made it very difficult to restrain myself from escalating, especially while intoxicated.
Just a few days of some kind of deep, intimate, intellectual contact with another human being helped me to see from her perspective what I was doing to Candy. She had her own issues to work out, and I was trying to help her with them, because I let her know how grateful I was that she helped me to see things from just one outside perspective.
I had been isolating myself for so very long, based on many contributing factors. First, there is Candy’s social anxiety. I would feel guilty to go out every weekend partying with the fabulous people of Las Vegas while she sat at home, exploring a virtual world of “second life”.
While she would not show any signs of missing out to me, I am sure she would feel some kind of disappointment or envy if I casually walked out of the apartment to meet groups of people, while she sat confined by her own anxiety.
Just the thought of what she might feel caused me to start isolating myself. I removed myself from local groups on facebook, and I made absolutely no attempts to socialize locally. Every once in a while, I would get really loaded and write some weird 5000 word rant to someone in email, because I was having distress about my first world problems.
That wasn’t interaction, that was a one sided psychic barrage of negative energy, that the recipient didn’t need to deal with. I would be tempted to attempt an apology to each and every person I have ranted to like this, but I probably apologized at the end of it, knowing that I was in psycho drunk mode.
Talking to that one human being, that I never met, made me want to be a better person for Candy, because from her perspective. I could see more in depth how my behavior was hurting her, and more importantly, hurting myself. I knew I was letting myself get behind, I knew I was letting myself and everything I care about slip by as I literally walked right outside of time and space itself, creating a whole reality that only I could see.
That’s the biggest problem with alcohol. It’s a beautiful drug, with a potentially wonderful high, but once an individual is under it’s spell, it is way too tempting to pass way beyond any reasonable or acceptable limit. Once the limit is passed, one part of me is sleeping, and a very obnoxious, negative, pessimistic, condescending, arrogant, asshole comes out.
I would watch the television show “Cops” and laugh at the topless drunk guys trying to fight four or five police at once. I know exactly what is going through that guys mind, and it is depressing to me. The ride up to that point is fun, thrilling, and mind altering. The problem comes in when the mind has been altered to a point beyond reason and the ability to see consequence.
The woman I talked to for days eventually burned out, exactly like I told her she would. I made a comparison to her with a high wattage light bulb, that burns out so much faster than a lower wattage one. I told her this just days before she freaked out and could not handle the restraint it took to stop being a slut and make a few real friends for once.
I knew it got too deep, too fast, and she was developing feelings for me because I was the first guy who resisted her advances in order to get to know her as a person. It was not easy. She has a wonderful hour glass shape, much like the Venus of Willendorf I love to rant about so much. I told her about this, and of course, she had seen one of those statues a long time ago and remarked how much her body resembled it.
I told her that as a “fat woman”, she had an appeal that remarkably few “fat women” have. I have this whole obsession with the way that those Venus statues have that shape for a reason. That shape is extremely powerful, visually stimulating, and highly distracting. Even guys who don’t think they have any interest in “fat chicks” could easily get tripped up while under the spell of the “involuntary stare reflex”. The sight of such proportions has to be visually stimulating to more people than most people think, because I knew that the first woman I found with this shape would be noticed instantly once she had a web site.
It would appear that my new found friend had suffered the kind of sex drive that one might imagine could come with such a powerful figure. She never could figure out why she thought of herself as ugly because she was “too big”, yet guys hit on her mercilessly. She had impulse control issues, so she would give in, and then feel shame and guilt over it later. Once I got to know that much about her, it was easy to resist her occasional sexual comment out of respect to her as a person, and the trouble she had gone through with such a condition.
We helped each other somehow, and neither one of us got what our fantasies really would have wanted from the situation. I know that both of us really wanted to fuck each other badly, and in the back of my mind, I would involuntarily be working out a way for that to potentially happen “one day”.
One day could not come soon enough though, because the second the woman talked to Candy, she started to kind of hit on her as if she was a guy. Candy is no stranger to that kind of attention, and she resisted any sexual response. That actually offended the woman, because she had not hit on a woman in over a decade, and now she was rejected.
It’s sad, that the one time that Candy got her hopes up to meet someone that could be a new friend since October of last year, and the woman starts acting like a guy that wants to “hit that”. Candy could forgive this, but because the woman allegedly felt so ashamed, she had to call off a meeting that would have been planned just days later. She deleted her email account and her personal ad, but within 24 hours I found her replacement, visited it, and she was already writing me back.
I was disappointed, because here I was, sobering up so that I could focus and concentrate hard enough to “make something happen” after almost a decade of self isolation. The first visit would have been set up with no expectations of any physical contact at all. We were all trying to act like responsible adults, and meet as friends, get to know each other, and see what happens over time. It would have been awesome for a first visit to be completely non sexual, for the sake of Candy getting to know a fraction about this woman that I already learned.
Part of the reason I was so fascinated with getting these two women together was because of their personalities, not because I wanted to see them awkwardly attempt some kind of super sized lesbian encounter. I really wanted to see the energy exchanged between two women who held the same power, and suffered from some of the exact same consequences, over some periods of time that are literally just a few years off in age from each other.
They had the same trauma, the same issues, and the same heightened sexuality as a result of being stimulated for the first time in a highly inappropriate situation at an age that would create conflicting feelings about an event that should never have happened to them. I called it “sexually advanced”, because even though it was a result of trauma and abuse, it still happened to them, maybe because they held this power of attraction their whole lives, and a few weak souls who were wrongly given opportunity took advantage of it in the worst way possible. They would also be conflicted about their abuse, because at times, thoughts of it would feel just as stimulating and erotic to them as it felt wrong and traumatic.
Because I spent so much brain power figuring this woman out, and predicting exactly what was going to happen, I was finally inspired in two ways. First, to break the cycle that I placed myself in with alcohol. I didn’t really want to see it as a loop, because when you are in one, it is very difficult to WANT to see you are in one. If an individual is escaping reality to begin with, time is unfortunately a part of that very reality. Second, because of her insight, I could see myself from Candy’s eyes, as I tried not to get drunk so I could type properly to her.
The loop is easily established because humans are creatures of habit. We want regularity, schedule, and self discipline. Alcohol can over-ride the impulse to create order, and the anxiety that is in place to keep us on our toes in a very brutal reality. While alcohol seems wonderful and magical in wiping out anxiety, it seems to work a little too well on people with my specific condition, so far undiagnosed professionally.
While alcohol is kicking ass on anxiety, it is also taking away ambition, drive, motivation, inspiration, dedication, devotion, discipline, control, and vision. It takes away the ability to see what it is doing to yourself. I am very skilled at abusing things, because I got to the point where I could drink the cheapest and nastiest beer I can find at room temp, to avoid making trips to the fridge that Candy could hear, each one bringing her deeper into a level of potential conflict.
Maybe I needed to “sneak around”, and because I devoted myself to Candy, beer was the last great frontier of taboo behavior. I don’t crave the substance itself, I crave the altered head space. I enjoy the personality that comes out in the early phases of alcohol intoxication, but that is already an alter ego, who will gladly break all limitations that sober me put on myself.
I kept trying to fool myself into thinking that I could get a 12 pack, and not wipe more than half of it out. I thought I could stop at 6, saving another 6 for another day, and not even the very next day. That got fucked up though. I started getting a 12 pack, almost finishing it, feeling like crap the next day. Then, I might not drink that day, or, I might finish off the 2 or 3 left, get a little buzz, and get way too tempted to get another 12 pack and start over. That was progression. I wanted to keep using it so badly that I was fooling myself into believing that I was trying to control intake, when the drug was controlling me.
All this started because I placed a few personal ads, not because I thought the grass was greener, but quite the opposite. I created the ads to return to a mind space where Candy was gone for those 8 months. I could probably feel her disappointment and resentment over my losing control of the beer, when she only came back because I agreed to give up vodka.
From the moment I created the first ad, I could see the exact same patterns in the women that would appear available in my age group. It appeared that the few I would be attracted to went to a great deal of trouble to explain how unavailable they were, which meant they had baggage, which meant they were self conflicted, which meant they could be highly sexual.
Yeah, I am way beyond the “fat chicks are easy” thing. I know better. Fat chicks are actually harder, unless you know how to pick them. 🙂
I spent so much time wondering if I was conflicted about my real agenda in creating the personal ads, because obviously I have a very active imagination, which is something else the alcohol was killing. It was also pulling my sex drive down just a little bit. Not too much though, because even though Candy doesn’t want to have sex with a drunk guy, the drunk guy has literally worn her pussy out.
I have to point out, that I was compelled almost involuntarily to write here, after months of no activity. That gap in time between now and the last blog post is probably the length of time that I was falling down the alcohol spiral of non motivation, and I just allowed it to continue.
Maybe it was actually painful for me to use my brain for a while. When I am sober, I can tell I will be one of those hyper thinking former alcoholic types, because the abuse of alcohol was partially attributed to racing thoughts and high mental energy.
The effort I invested in getting to know this woman on a deeper level than just a few random fucks behind someone else’s back was invaluable. The perspective is something I could not obtain from a shrink I could not afford. Even though she dumped me, technically, even as just “friends”, I could only be disappointed for a little while because she granted me with something that I never would have had if I had not virtually met her online.
So few women have such a sexy shape, and even fewer have the intuition to show it off in full length body photos instead of hiding it away out of frame in endless face photos.
She was naturally going to get an avalanche of response, because that’s what she needed to build her confidence, because of a non existent, failing movement known as “size acceptance”.
Right here in Las Vegas, where there is “bbw shit” going on every other week, there are literally tons of beautiful, sexy, intelligent, amazing fat women who will never even know about it, much less have a desire to expose themselves to the kind of social pecking order that must exist in those types of environments.
Candy isolated herself once she hit a certain size because she was smaller herself once, and she always felt sorry for women that look like she does now. She can’t go out, even with a group of allegedly like minded “fellow fatties”, because she will project the judgement and shame of her size on every person she meets, even if that was the last thing on their minds.
She is embarrassed and humiliated, to the point where she imagines that some repeated invitations to meet out at some bar with some group were just to ridicule how fat she had gotten. Yes, if you were not aware, fat women do ridicule other fat women because of their size differences. 🙁 THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS SIZE ACCEPTANCE. It costs the diet industry TOO MUCH FUCKING MONEY. It is much better to make fat people hate themselves, because you can make more money on drugs, surgery, and “treatment centers” that shoot people up with God knows what.
Because Candy hasn’t wanted to go out to bars to meet entire groups of strangers all at once, she has felt a sense of rejection that all attention directed to her seems to have something to do with enticing her into doing exactly what she doesn’t want to do. These strange people have no idea of how humiliating it is to her to be asked to go somewhere, and when she declines, that’s pretty much the end of interest in her. We have been in Las Vegas for almost 2 years, and no model has ever appeared with Candy Godiva in that time.
It’s no skin off my teeth, I am perfectly grateful and content just to work with her and only her for the rest of my life. I just thought it was very ironic that in a city that is allegedly buzzing with bbw activity, there is at least one SSBBW who did get left behind.
I guess I drifted just a little, which means I have to wrap this up, because I have shit to do, and now I have to re-read all of this! It is easy to see why alcohol has been so tempting for me. My mind really works like this. I think like this. It is sometimes difficult for me to stay on track with just one subject, because I see connections that always lead so very far away. I am still trying to figure out how to exploit this talent to my advantage, and it’s not even about money, because obviously I am not too concerned with that. What irony, I live in Vegas, where everybody is trying to screw everybody else over, and I don’t give a fuck about money anymore.
Wow, what an observation. I am not on alcohol either. I have often said on facebook that I think I get even weirder off of alcohol, because there is some part of me that I have pushed down for so very long that I have to get used to being that person all over again.
Part of the person I used to be, was a model recruiter. Even if I don’t give two shits if I find a single model in this awful, God forsaken place, I will at least try. It has helped me to overcome another compulsion that was hurting me and my relationship. The grass is not greener. Another good reason for creating personal ads was to see all of the trauma and human debris that has been discarded for decades, sometimes for very good reason.
I wanted to see the horror and disappointment I would be faced with, having such a specific preference, being so very old, and knowing that I am actually “picky” even though I am attracted to the type of women most guys claim they could never be attracted to, but jerk off to secretly, thanks to me, and my super morbidly obese porn.
Yeah, it is going to take some getting used to, this part of me that I was literally drowning in ice beer. It is only just coming to the surface, and I have placed personal ads at ok cupid, fet life, plenty of fish, saucydates, connectingsingles, myfreepersonals, and datehookup. I have openly admitted to being in a relationship (where they even allow), and my only ambition there is to make new friends.
I may have fantasies, and one day a few of them may actually come true. They don’t rule me though, and I am living with an ultimate fantasy that I never thought I would see again when she left the last time. I was driving her away again, because I wanted to escape my isolation into a secondary alcohol induced isolation.
I believe that I wanted to take control of my decision to isolate myself, as painful as it may have been, by sinking into a state where I had to isolate myself from Candy for the periods of time that I was drinking too heavily. That probably makes absolutely no sense.
By creating all of this attempt to be social (and no, facebook isn’t social, it’s fucking fake social), I was able to find just one person who actually read most of my ranting instead of ignoring it. Unfortunately, I did not mean to create feelings in her that would have caused her to need to reject the friendship, but I hope I was able to teach her that she can find a guy that is just as interested in what’s in her head as he is about her massive, ginormous cup size…
I had my own fantasies of course, and Candy had to know it, as I awkwardly attempted to lure the sexiest woman I found locally on ok cupid right into the apartment to meet with us as purely friends with no expectations.
If I was so fumbling and awkward this time, I have learned. Candy knows that I will not be isolated any longer, and she also knows that as I set a better example for her by not drinking at all, I expect more out of her in facing her fears too.
I won’t force her to do anything she doesn’t want to, but just for a few days, Candy wanted to meet this fucking woman. The one thing that kind of pisses me off is that this woman hurt Candy more than me, because Candy never even saw this shit coming. She is talking to a woman about meeting up on sunday just to talk at first. Then she is being told that she is too sexy and she will cause this woman to embarrass herself if she makes a move that she allegedly could not help herself from making, because she wanted to fuck both of us that bad, and she could not be patient… 🙁
I wasn’t even trying to fuck the woman from the first damn visit, but in my extreme self examination with her, she got pulled into something that was way too deep for her to handle. It would surprise you to know that she has a career in a field where she has to work with people.
I know it’s in the back of Candy’s mind, that some day, maybe… As long as I am not the horny, pushy, sleazy guy who is pushing hard or forcing her into it. No, I am making new friends… What happens from there is up to her. If i get a raging boner I do have 2 wonderful holes and a multitude of fat creases to use to relieve that condition, that happened to be owned by a woman I really never thought I would still be with, much less living in Las Vegas with, and defeating alcoholism with.
I did slip just the other day, when this woman broke up with “us” before ever meeting “us”. I was disappointed that I caused Candy disappointment, because I knew I was never going to be smooth enough to pull off what I probably was trying to pull off in the back of my mind.
I hate to say that there is an equal exchange thing going on, but Candy hated drunk me. She knows that drunk me is a manifestation of my issues with abandonment, anxiety, insecurity, and isolation. She knows I can’t isolate myself, which is why she actively participates in my attempts to make new friends, even if she has serious anxiety about it, because she knows what I am capable of when I am not drinking…
I know I will probably still drink occasionally, but I will see it as a “slip” and not a “habit”. By habituating the regular use of beer, I was making it a part of a loop that caused me to allow everything I care about to decay and atrophy. I know that Candy is aware that there is a great energy shift going on, because if I even raise my voice while talking to her at this point, she has to say “energy!”, to remind me that I am psychically impacting her.
Oh, that’s another thing. I had totally been downplaying the psychic thing because it’s something I like to think about, and fantasize about having, but I am endlessly frustrated by the way it always happens in a way that looks like coincidence instead of intuition. I like to imagine that I use calculation to determine the future from using data of the past and present. I have to imagine that occasionally, there is a calculation that is just too close to call, so maybe there is actually something to the small nudge that some kind of inner intuition can create.
Alcohol was also destroying intuition, because it interfered with an ability to calculate probability, and visualize consequence. Visualization was also highly distorted. All of this shit feels really awesome when you are “drunk”, but if I get drunk as often as every other day, the residual effects that alcohol has will still continue to influence me even when I appear to be sober. Damn my studies in neurology! I have to go!