Serenading a Mule

     As many of you probably noticed, I didn’t do a blog post last week. I kinda-sorta had one, but it was another depressing thing, and I just didn’t think it was a good idea to do three maudlin posts in a row, so I just left it. I guess it goes back to my mother saying, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, shut the hell up.”

     Of course she is also the one who said, “This isn’t Burger King. You take it my way or do without.” I actually found a trivet one time that had that slogan on it and got it for her. Sorry to say, it got broken years ago. Oh well… moving on. 

     I have no idea where this is going today, so I’m just gonna ramble along and see what pops into my head. 

     Right now, I hear Dante yelling for his breakfast. Now Dante – and I love Dante - is a donkey that lives here. He is so funny. He’s out there with all these really nice horses, and the poor thing tries to keep up. He runs almost like a bunny hops, his ears laid back, and his short, stubby legs just gettin’ it. Just too funny to watch and of course is always the last one there for dinner. 

     Oh… that reminds me of a story about my sister. She also has a donkey, a silver one named Jackson. Now he is a lot like Dante, but not as friendly. Anyway, she was trying to get Jackson from the back pasture to the one in the front. He was having no part of it. We all know what they say about mules, right? Stubborn? Yeah, well he was having a moment. 

     Here is where I have to give you a little background on my sister. First off, she’s a redhead, a true redhead with the temper to match and is as stubborn as that damn donkey. She’s also only about five feet tall. So here she is, pulling and tugging on this damn big-ass donkey and he’s looking at her like “yeah, right.” The more she tries to get him to move, the madder she gets. 

     She gets to the point where she lets him go and stomps into the house. A few minutes later she comes back with MY cattle prod. Yes, I have one. No, you can’t ask why. Anyway, she is trying to zap this damn donkey, but the batteries are low. He just laughs at her, but he still ain’t moving his fat ass. 

     By this time, she is so mad there is steam coming out of her ears. I’m standing there laughing my ass off. She goes back to pulling on the lead she’d put on him. The clasp broke and she went tumbling backwards into a fairly fresh pile of manure. That did it. She lost it. She called that damn mule everything but what he was. Like that fazed him. Not. 

     Finally she got up, her backside covered in crap. Of course I was doubled over, laughing hysterically, which only made matters worse. She gave me such the evil eye. You know the one that says, ‘I wish you were dead right now.’ I’m surprised I didn’t drop dead right then and there. My sister took that cattle prod and hits that donkey so hard on his back side, the damn thing bent. I guess the impact of the hit was enough to shake that battery up to get the last bit of juice out of it. She zapped Jackson with full power and damn, did that donkey move. 

     He brayed his head off and ran for the barn faster than I’d ever seen him run. Yeah, I was still laughing. My poor sister. Her face was so red I thought she was gonna have a stroke. She came at me with that cattle prod and I high-tailed it right after Jackson. I turned to look back, just in time to see my wonderful, loving, kind, sweet sister take a nose dive. And yes, you guessed it…right into a pile of shit. 

     By this time, Jackson had made it to the barn and was standing there as if nothing had happened, braying his fool head off. I swear, it sounded like he was laughing, as was I. Oh hell, was she mad. She came at me with that cattle prod and tried to zap ME with it. Thankfully, that battery was dead as a doornail. 

     She threw it on the ground and stomped off, into the house. When I got there she was in the tub. I could hear her in there just cussing up a storm. Yeah, I was still snickering when she came out. I got another evil eye. She didn’t talk to me the rest of the night. 

     This was some years ago, and we laugh about it now. She’s still never replaced my cattle prod. I think I may give her a new one for her birthday, and then take it back. I think that’s a great idea, don’t you? 

     Uh-oh. Just saw a post on FB about the whole thing about women writers doing M/M genre…again. Will this ever die? I know I’ve touched on this before, but for some reason this subject just always tends to come up. I know I’ve given my opinion before, so I’m not going to go into it again. At least not right now. 

     What I am going to say is that I am an elderly gay man who has been sexually active long before the AIDS epidemic. Fuck, I’m old. I’m fairly sure that I have been as adventurous as most gay men, if not a little bit more. (Oh hush up, Patty-Cakes. I can hear you cackling from here.) Okay… a LOT more. Okay? Now quiet down. 

     The point I was going to make, before I was so rudely interrupted, was that when I write a story, it is from a gay man’s perspective. I basically write for gay men. Now hold on a minute before you get all mad at me. I do try to take into account my entire audience, so there are a few things I do and don’t do, to keep most readers happy. Or I try to, at least. Of course I still get the ‘Ewwww’ factor quite a bit. Yeah, men are pigs. I fully admit that. 

     On another thread this week there was the question raised about the post-sex coital. An author asked, ‘Do you like pillow talk after a sex scene?’ The replies were all over the place. So I stuck my two cents in, of course. I commented, ‘Do you want romance or real? If you want real, then there isn’t much talk after. The poor guy just wants to either eat and/or sleep.’ That’s just the reality of it all. Well, unless they are like eighteen or something, and then give them a few minutes and then they’ll be at it again. Then for sure, sleep. This whole idea of the lovey-dovey after sex cuddles and sweet talk is all from a female perspective. Face it, ladies. After a guy pops a nut, he’s tired. And younger guys are both hungry and tired. That’s just the way it is. 

     I think what really gripes my ass the most though, is women who will leave a review telling me how wrong I got a sex scene. Uhhh, when did you grow a penis, lady? For those of you who know me, you’ll know I’m not a huge porn fan. For the most part I find it pretty boring. So when I write a sex scene, more than likely I’ve been there and done that. I don’t go searching around porn sites for research. Again, been there, done that, have the T-shirts. Yes, plural. So yeah, I kinda know what I’m talking about. So don’t go and try and tell me I got it all wrong. 

     Now then, I’m friends with a lot of female authors. Most of them do a pretty good job in writing M/M erotic romance, including sex scenes. What I find funny is that they start talking about all these porn stars. I’m like, who? One particular friend of mine knows the names of all these guys and about their lives and so on and so forth. I look at her, my eyes blinking, basically stunned. Hell, she knows more about gay porn than most gay men I know. Well, there is this one guy, but he is a total perv, who may know as much as she does. Does that make her a perv too? You’re damn skippy it does! I affectionately call her my little Smut Slut. 

     After reading these two threads, I was chatting with another gay male author. We voiced our own opinions and then he asked, “What do women get out of seeing two men kissing?” My simple answer? Hell if I know. 

     I’m a gay man. I’ve always been a gay man. I know what flips my switches, and that is men. So it only seems natural for me to see men going at it. To me, that is just everyday life and has been for many years. I can only assume that it is like some straight guy that gets off on two females together. Okay, still don’t really get it. 

     So what is it, ladies? What is the attraction of seeing two men together? Come on. Tell me. Who knows, it may go into a story. Call it research, but I’d really like to know. Don’t be shy. Speak up. 

     This past week I helped a friend move. Even though we worked hard we had a good time. We laughed and sweated our asses off. At one point we were laughing so hard we were crying. Hell, we couldn’t tell if the other was crying or sweating. At any rate, we were soaked. It was all good, and we got her and her son all moved. 

     Thing is, when we were clearing out the garage, the teenaged son said he didn’t want this bicycle that was stuck in there anymore, and was going to toss it onto the trash pile. I hate waste. I was raised by a depression baby and the last thing we ever did was throw something away that was still usable. I snatched that bike up and put it in the back of my SUV. There’s a little boy down the street whose family is dirt poor. The other kids in the neighborhood pick on him terribly, probably because he is poor. I was thinking I’d get the tires replaced and have it spruced up and bit and give it to him. It really is a nice, expensive bike. 

     I told a good friend and he said I was a special man for even thinking of that. You know what, I never think of things like that. I saw a decent bike and knew of someone who could use it. No big deal. It’s just what I do. So later today, after my ball game, I’ll take it to a bike shop and get that done, and next week I’ll give it to this kid. 

     Y’all know how I keep on about doing for others; well this is just an example. I didn’t think about it, really. I just did it. No biggie. However, y’all can see how these little things can make a difference in someone else’s lives. It is not going to cost me much of anything, monetarily, and only a little bit of my time. 

     Will it make a difference in the young man’s life? I hope so. Perhaps he won’t feel so left out when the other kids go riding down the street on their bikes. Not only will he have one of his own, he’ll have a really nice one. 

     YOU can make a difference. Have a little compassion. Before you start bitching about how bad you have it, think about others who have it a hell of a lot worse and then do something about it. You’ll soon forget about the crap you may be going through and feel better about helping someone else. It doesn’t take much. Trust me. In the long run, you’re doing something for you, not just someone else. It never hurts to put some karma coins in the bank. 

     Till next time, 

     Max

Just because I can. ;-)