Twins

No, I am not going to post pics of them lol :)

Just realized though, that I have at least 1 member of FIVE sets of twins on my Facebook Account. And I don't really have a lot of friends. They are all either family, close friends and of course a plethora of old high school buddies. Then there are one or two cute guys, and some blog and journal friends.

Twins:

- My Stepmother is a twin. I don't really know her brother that well.

- Bruce and Gerrie went to school with me. I shared a room with Bruce in my second yr in high school. They both run game farms now. Elephants come to Bruce's pool in his garden to drink...

- Jacques And Clinton (Jacques is on my friends list). They are the sons of a very dear friend. Both in their twenties now, they are completely different. Although they are technically identical twins, Jacques has learning difficulties and had behavioural problems throughout his life. He is bigger than Clinton. They really don't like each other, and live continents apart now.

- Mignon and Lisa. Two old school friends. I still can't tell them apart, except Mignon is pregnant now lol.

- Graeme and Andrew. Identical too. Still the naughtiest set of siblings I have ever met! They recently hit forty, but when they are together, the party just does not stop! They both play guitar, and they know enough pub songs to last a long weekend. They did all the girlfriend swopping, teacher confusing that you only read about. They are still difficult to tell apart, though Graeme is quieter and a little more serious now.

My Dad's twin sister is still alive, and their father was one of a set of identicals. My grandfather lost his brother in the 2nd world war, so I never met him of course lol. I am not THAT old.

I had to giggle though. A friend of mine's wife was pregnant the same time us mine for both our kids. We had been discussing, and had agreed that two kids max per family was the right thing to do.

Their second pregnancy produced triplets hehe....

Coming out... slowly does it

It was boxing day. The ex and I had already negotiated seperation. We hadn't told anyone, except the girls. We told them we are doing a trial seperation for now. It's the hardest thing either of us had had to do. There was always the fear that we are somehow going to damage them, but up till now, we both still think our kids are better off with us being apart. And they think that too.

She was with some friends with the kids, I was at Little Brother's house with family. The plan was we would start telling people a bit at a time.

I blurted out that it looked like her and I were going to divorce. There was a stunned silence. On the outside, we were the model couple. My cousin (female) was the most shocked. She had just married, and said after that her and new hubby had discussed that they would model their marriage on what the ex and I had managed to achieve.

Later, after many drinks and food, cousin and I were dancing, and I whispered in her ear that the reality was that I wasn't exactly straight. She giggled and held me closer and kissed my neck. She whispers back in mine: Oh shit!, There goes my childhood fantasy...

A gay friend of the family was also there. He left early, but left his jacket. I called him to tell him, and he said he was at a friend, literally down the road. I left and popped in to drop his jacket. I was drunk, and on a high from telling my cuz. I told the gay boy after a drink. His friend and I ended up snogging on the couch. It was amazingly liberating. Finally, I had told somebody within the circle (two people now), and there was just acceptance. And finally, I had deep tongue kissed someone known to the circle. No guilt. I went home and basked in the glow of knowing I had a new life ahead of me.

Coming Out - Kind of... The office party

I had been married for less than a year. The company I worked for really treated their staff well, and at the slightest hint of an excuse, we would party. We had just migrated tons of data successfully to a new system, and had spent three nights in a row testing and retesting. So our Ops manager decided we needed a night out. When I say 'we' I mean fifty people or so.

Being the ops manager's right hand boy, I arranged for us to go to this really off the wall Portuguese restuarant in the heart of the CBD. There were two main groups. The first were the programmers and the DBA's, who were mainly long term contractors and in the age group from thirty to fifty. the second group - the one I interacted with on a daily basis - was a large team of 'floor workers' . They were young - mainly researchers - and an eclectic mix. I had somehow moved through the ranks quite quickly, and this group envied my position as right hand boy. I guess I was twenty-four or so, and they averaged around nineteen.

For some reason, they mostly adored me, guys and girls. I was always on the floor, spurring them on. I was a process specialist, and any way I could find to make their work quicker I pushed for implementation.

So I was with the younger group for most of the evening. Drinks were on the house, so we were all taking turns to order a round. Sambuka, then Schnapps, Vodka, and so it went on. So when it came to my turn, I ordered the boys Portuguese Fire Water (Aquadent), and the girls Tequila Gold. It became a competition - I was the 'older guy' they were all trying to impress.

Needless to say, most of the group left fairly early as the alcohol was just too much. I was a pretty hardy drinker, so I joined the older crowd in the bar downstairs. I was very very drunk by this time, but had managed to stay upright until the last of the competition had left.

The oldest of the programmers was a guy called Bruce. I guess he was fifty or so. His partner John was eighteen - a delightful little queen. A huge chunk of the IT guys and girls were gay. I joined Bruce and John, and the rest of the evening was just a blur.

It took me over an hour to find my car. When I got home, there were all these cars in the driveway, and I suddenly realized that my wife and I had invited a bunch of friends over for a barbecue...

When I went inside, I just said hi to everyone, and promptly retired to the lounge where I woke the next morning with the biggest of hangovers ever.

Thank God it was Saturday, and the wife just laughed at how I drunk I was when I got home the previous night.

On Monday, it was back to work as usual. We spent some time in the canteen laughing about the events of the Friday. Later, I had to go to the fourth floor to Bruce to go over some results of the latest testing. Sitting in his office, he leaned over the desk and said to me: "You know that you told me you are gay on Friday, right?"

We both burst into laughter, and he came around and hugged me. He told me that I had pulled him and John aside and told them I was envious of their relationship and shared some sexual anecdotes, while attempting to get another beer down. Luckily, no-one else had heard, and Bruce assured me it would remain that way.

Even though I was married, and quite happily so, I kinda felt a little liberated in a way. It was like, yeah I am happy, and yeah I am also okay that I have a gay side, and yeah I can live with it. And I did.

Coming out.... (Part One)

The first person who actually found out my deep dark secret was my little brother.

Let me say first that I never considered my self gay at first. I just thought boys were hot, had sucked a few dicks, and was being used by a pedo... that doesn't mean I am gay right? I had several girlfriends through highschool, but experimented a lot with boys sexually. I never once wanted to sleep with any of my gf's - touching girls in any way scared me physically.

I kept a journal of sorts, mainly just putting my fantasies about several of the boys I knew down on paper. It was an erotic exercise.

I was home for the holidays in my last year for the first time in two years (I hated being at home). I had been catching up with some old mates in my hometown, and was pretty tanked on Vodka when I got home. I had seen Alex, the soccer boy, and I wanted to write about him. I got out my journal from where it was stashed under the matress. I opened up to where the last story was, and found a whole piece written by my little brother, telling me he is okay with me being gay, and he will always defend me if it ever came up.

I lay on the bed, clutching the book to my chest, and just sobbed uncontrollaby for what seemed like an hour. It was the first time it became real to me. The first time that I had to face the fact that perhaps I was in this category. GAY... ffs, it was a word that scared the living daylights out of me. Gay wasn't even a word that had become fashionable yet, it was a new concept.

There was no prejudice in his note to me, just love. I wrote a response to him in my journal, and left it so that he could easily find it.

The next day, at the bottom of my response, there was a small 'xxx' written below in his writing.

The context is important though. Him and I really grew up seperately. I went to boarding school, while he chose to move in with our grandmother for most of highschool. Her house was our home. My mother had remarried, and Stepdad was an arsehole, so we stayed away. We hardly spoke at all during highschool. I only found out recently that one of the reasons he left boarding school after his first year there, was because he was being teased about being the 'gay boy little brother'. It makes me sad, because no-one ever said anything to me directly, and I never knew he was suffering the consequences of me being gay.

The word now being on paper, and it all being real, I went into panic mode. I didn't want to be gay. Trevor and I had finally had the fights of all fights, and I had moved out from him, and back into the hostel for my final exams. I had decided that that part of my life was now over. No more boys, no more Trevor, no more journal, no more gay. I burnt the journal shortly after that and decided I would rather be on my own and leave it at that.

We have been really close later on in life.

After high school, I moved back in with Trevor. He was so closet, it suited me. And much older too. I lived with him as 'business partners' until I was twenty-two. I finally moved out again, and again I denied my sexuality, mainly because we were always living a lie, and wanted no part of it. I thought it would be easier being on my own, and dealing with it on my own. That's when I met my ex-wife, and I just continued the denial until age 37.

Some thoughts

Since my divorce (well some time before actually) I have come to realize that I was not alone in the situation I was in.

I have come to meet (mainly online) a lot of guys that are married, or have been married that are battling with their sexuality.

For me, I tried for many years NOT to be gay. The were a few motivations. The first was that because my first real 'gay' experience happened to be with a pedophile, and I had it in my head that being gay meant that I was or could end up being like that. The second reason was a comment by someone when I was really battling with my sexuality in high school. He said that I would always be gay, and I shouldn't fight it. In context, it was a hurtful thing to say, so I made it my quest to prove him wrong. Thirdly, I always wanted a family. With my own kids.

And then I met my ex-wife. She was smitten with me, and I enjoyed the attention. We went through the awkward throws of inexperienced sex together, and after living with each other for three years, we eventually married. Two years later, we had our first daughter, and soon after that, we found ourselves with a second angel.

Sex was never good. We lived together more as friends, sex occasionally happening when we were both horny, or after a good night out with a lot of alcohol involved. She always suspected my sexuality issues, but we were never a couple that could actually talk to each other about real things. We spent our time together trying to build the perfect family, with the perfect house, in the perfect suburb, with perfect kids. But we never spoke.

But, at some point, after twelve years of marriage, we began talking. In riddles mainly, hints...

Then we met a couple. After some drunkenness at a dinner we hosted, somehow we all ended up in bed together. There was never the intention, but somehow being with them was electrically charged. The conversation was always about sex. There were dares. We progressed over some weeks to touching the same sex of the other partners...

Needless to say, the ex and the other woman started seeing each other seperately, and the husband was very obviously straight. I think we were all subconsciously sabotaging our realtionships. My wife and I, after many weeks of silence and not being able to talk about what was happening (I never knew at this point that her and the other woman were having an affair), just decided one day that we are on different paths, and it would be better if we seperated for a while.

It has been an amazing journey. Yes, stressful, sad, emotional. But we remain good friends, all four of us. Our kids are friends, we all see each other regularly. The ex will call me when her and C are having problems and she will cry on my shoulder.

The two of them are not out to anyone except me. They live two seperate lives, but while I have the kids, they stay with each other. I am out to everyone, including my kids.

I have noticed over the last few weeks, that they are being a little more daring in their sharing, so I think that is good for both of them. I am proud of them.

I still love her in my own little way. But have never been IN love with her. I have no regrets - how can I when I have two beautiful, well balanced teenage daughters?

We have been apart for four years now, and neither of us have ever been this happy.

My mother said to my oldest daughter last weekend: When your father said he was going to marry your mother, I thought WTF? He's gay.... But thankfully he did, and I have two beautiful granddaughters.

My kids laugh at how different we are, and comment often that they don't know how we stayed together for so long. But we can laugh about it because we talk about it, and we never show regret, because we don't.

When good sex ends badly.... (Part Three)

We Skype, build plans for a venture we want to start together. I see no reason why I can't spend a lot of time with her once she is back. We discuss living together. I love her kids, my kids love her. I am not in a relationship. I am beginning to think that this may be my last chance to be with someone, to grow old with someone. And the sex....

I turn down a contract that was about to start as the timing would clash with our own startup. We both put money and time into putting everything together.

And then it hit the fan. I was out with the kids at my brother's place. It was a last chance for them to see their cousins before they flew back to the UK. My mother was ill. Money was starting to dry up on my end. We had disagreed on some issues in terms of timing and location. So she calls me, blind drunk. I had begun realising she had a drinking problem some weeks earlier. We would be Skyping, and then at some point, she would go off on a tangent, going over the edge of her alcohol tolerance. I left neville because of his alcoholism. It leaves a bad taste. And it was becoming more and more frequent.

So she calls me, drunk. The line is bad, and she is not making sense. She texts me, tells me to go home so we can Skype, she desperately needs to talk. I tell her it's impossible, my kids come first, and it is their day, it would have to wait. After that, I get text after text, telling me I am a cunt, I don't care, just like all men etc etc....

I am thrown! I try to act normal for my kids and the family, but they keep coming through, more and more abusive.

So when I get home, I mail her, angry. Tell her to fuck off, that my kids will always come first. Always. And not to call me when she was so drunk again, and if she did, I would turn my phone off. The next day, I get a letter of apology. I had some things to do, and when I get home later in the day, she Skypes me again. It's late evening where she is, and she's drunk again. I get angry, she's horny, and wants to see me naked, I tell her I am not in the mood, and she needs to sleep as there was work the next day. She launches into the abuse again. I sign off. I get more than twenty abusive texts. And emails in between. Until it was way beyond 3am where she is.

I copy all her texts and her mails into one mail, and once again tell her I don't need her abusive crap, and we should just call it quits. I don't need it in my life, and certainly my kids don't need it in their lives, as it was bound to overflow and affect them.

After more abuse via text and email over the next week or so, I shut my email account down, block her on Skype, Facebook, get a temporary mobile number. I have an appointment with my therapist, I intended discussing how to cope with being so happy. I mail her in advance the SIXTY SEVEN pages of mails between us.

When I get there, the good Doctor simply says: Stay away from this woman: She's a pyschopath.

When good sex ends badly.... (Part Two)

So during the year, we Skype a lot, talk about aspirations, regrets, experiences, lovers. Basically, we got to know each other really well. At some point, we start discussing her return to South Africa. She has spent most of her working life teaching at International schools, and since her ex husband cheated on her with another of her colleagues, things had reached an awkward point. She has this dream of opening her own school, but back home and close to her family here.

In July last year, she returns for her annual holiday and I go with her to visit her dad. He is an old school German with the driest sense of humour, and I love him to bits. They live on a farm some way out of the city, so we opt to stay over. We drink red wine, eat good wholesome food, and talk shite. Her kids love me, we go for walks, I spend hours with them, rolling around in the grass, climbing trees.

We share a bed that night, and things get a little intimate. She's drunk and horny. She says things like, if only you weren't gay, I could take you places. She goes further and further, kissing my chest, her hand taking me through my jeans. We kiss. She unbuttons my jeans and takes me in her hands. I am hard, but not in a good place suddenly. I ask her to stop. I don't want anything to happen. So things become awkward. She is embarrassed. We fall asleep, on opposite sides of the bed.

I had a therapy session the next day. I discuss it with the good Doctor. I admit that it made me feel like I felt with Trevor when I am with her. Stifled, wrong.

The girl and I don't talk for several days, she stays with her father and I return home. We had booked to fly to the coast to where her mother lives. She calls some days later, and apologises for sulking, and please can I come with to her mom's. I agree, and before I know it, we are off on a plane. We pick up a rental, and drive for three hours to the village where they live. Her Mom treats me like her son-in-law. The one who should have been.

There is nothing to do in this town, so we lay around in the garden with the kids, reading, drinking wine, soaking up the sun and each other. Over the three nights we were there, we were always intimate, always almost, but never going all the way. We leave a day early and book a room in the coastal town close to the beach. Spend some time playing in the sand. It's winter, but gloriously warm and the kids are brave enough to play in the surf. We see a dolphin show, visit the aquarium, laugh a lot. Drink some more.

That night, we had more than our usual couple of bottles of wine. We had spent some time next to the pool, ordering cocktails from the bar. Ater the kids were asleep, we were lying on the bed. We kiss. It's been a romantic day, people have been thinking I am the father, and we are a happily married couple. The mood spills over. We're naked and she is kissing my body again. Soon she is kneeling over me, kissing my nipples. She admits she masturbates while I am in the shower, imagining being there with me. She is so close to me, I can feel the heat of her through my cock. I can't take it anymore, and pull her down on me. She orgasms almost immediately, then takes me in her mouth. Soon she is back on me, driving me to places I have never been before. The alcohol has me enjoying the ride. She's a noisy lover, talking dirty, sometimes crying out involuntarily. She comes many times. After I am done, we collapse, exhausted. It's early hours in the morning. I awake later, she is touching me again. We sneak another bout before the kids come through.

We fly back to my place. The sex is endless. She can't stop. She is the initiator. The shower, the couch, all the beds. We go to movies. She guides my hand between her legs, I feel her orgasm, watch her bite her lip, choke back the sound that wants out. She blows me in the car.

I tell her it's okay, it's all new for me, it turns her on more.

She flies back home, a sudden lack of sexual noise in my home.

When good sex ends badly.... (Part One)

Or rather how we should not imagine that a past romance can be rekindled so easily.

She was my first real kiss. I was twelve, she eleven. But even then, we both knew that it was so much more than a kiss. If circumstances had allowed, we would have gone much, much furher that night. And we both knew it.

Ten years later, she was back in my life. She and her brother visited me when I was living at the coast with Trevor. Much to Trev's annoyance, the three of us drove up to a University town to an art's festival. The three of us had an amazing time. Her brother is gay and had been crushing on me for years, but he is so not my type lol.

Anyway, after they left, the girl and I kept in contact a lot. She was in the throws of a divorce, and we became close, even though we were apart by many miles. After a few months, I said we should be just backing off a bit. Though she didn't know I was actually in a relationship with the guy I was living with at the time, I was trying to break things off with Trev. It had developed into weeks of silence broken only by criticism of each other, but we were financially tied to each other, and until those issues were resolved, we were pretty much stuck with each other. I wasn't out to anyone, not even her brother. As far as anyone was concerned, Trev and I were friends, and business partners, and we shared a home.

So when I suggested we take it easy until I move back to Johannesburg, she put the phone down, and I never heard from her.

Trev was part of the reason I never wanted to be gay, well pretty much the whole reason I never wanted to be gay, but thats another story. He was stifling, possesive, and so fn paranoid that someone might ever find out he was fucking me.

So when she cut me off, I was hurt.

So for years, I got tidbits from her brother about where she was, and her life etc. I managed to call her once, and when she told me she was considering adopting a child, I admitted that if things were different, I would have wanted to be the father of her children. We never spoke again until two years ago.

Her brother intimated that she had spent several years self destructing, and in the process, destroying her realtionships with her family and anyone else who had been in her life. (Why the fuck I never heard the warning bells, I really don't know). While he was passing through, he spent the night at my place and he said to me she was divorcing the latest husband and having a hard time, and that she would be in the country in July. Perhaps I could talk to her. I was out to the brother already, and he had already told her.

So July came. Her mom called me one day, and asked me to talk to the girl, because she was in a really bad place. So I do, and invite her and her two little kids to come spend a couple of days with me before heading back abroad, and she does.

Well, we connect. Emotionally. We hold hands, take the kids for walks, reminisce, go to movies, eat out. Then she goes home. A perfect ending to a perfect four days. No problem. Except she falls in love with me.. Obsessively so. Without my knowledge. In a big way.

One Hundred Things

So in celebration of my 1000th hit (its actually closer to 2000 now, but in typical Sethy procrastination style....), I am reposting the 25 things I have already mentioned before, and added another 75....

1. I look, act and hang out with people ten years or more younger than me (ie in their twenties or early thirties)

2. I went to high school in the early eighties when being gay was considered a freak of nature.

3. I officially came out to my mother on her sixtieth birthday although there were no real surprises. I was 37 at the time.

4. I was married for twelve years and have two teenage daughters. My ex-wife left me for another woman. The irony.....

5. I don't like to be near animals that weigh more than I do. I just don't. Though I am a cat lover, but only have a budgie as a pet.

6. I did my pilot's licence in high school, though the last time I flew as a qualified pilot was in my twenties. I wanted to be a fighter pilot, but failed the medical exam. Apparently pressure changes and my body don't go well together. I have flown in a Mirage III though.

7. I was conscripted into the military after high school and spent two years in an air defence unit - surface to air missile systems.

8. I have always been in the top three in any course I have taken, yet have never aspired to be academic in any way.

9. I procrastinate in a way that is not good for me.

10. I absolutely hate being late for anything though. It is obsessive.

11. I have had both male and female sexual partners, but have never considered myself bi or straight in essence.

12. I seem to attract good looking women, and psycho men.

13. When a cute guy walks in the door, I first look at facial symmetry and the smile before my eyes wander anywhere else.

14. Humour is a huge turnon. Agression and bad manners are immediate turnoffs.

15. Overage drivers annoy me. There should be a law against it.

16. Race has never been an issue for me, but it has for most of my immediate family.

17. My parents divorced when I was seven.

18. I spent all of high school with a paedophile, and some time after. I have finally forgiven him, and take solace that a car accident has left him without any sexual function.

19. I believe in Karma.

20. I am a very bad liar, so avoid having to do so at all costs.

21. I don't like sweet things, but take sugar in my tea and coffee. The same goes for milk.

22. I was born, and currently live in South Africa, though have traveled quite a bit.

23. I want to retire in South America.

24. I currently work in an industry that doesn't really interest me. But it pays the bills. Quite well actually. And I have a lot of time off inbetween projects.

25. I have an extensive 'bucket list', and have pretty much covered a huge chunk of it.

26. I have 500 hrs flying time (mainly in a Piper Twin Commanche, and a Cessna Super Skymaster or "pushpull" as it is affectionally know)

27. I completed my first parachute jump when I was fifteen. I stopped jumping at number 525, after an incident at jump 520 which scared me for the first time.

28. I have done the highest commercial bungy jump in the world - three times. The T-shirt says: Fear is temporary. Regret is forever.

29. I am a typing dyslexic especially swopping th - example in anyhting - and have to re-read and correct everything I write.

30. Because someone told me in highschool that I will always be gay, and not to fight it, I tried for years not to be.

31. I get bored easily, and change careers too often because of it.

32. I can't keep my fn mouth shut sometimes, and have been fired twice because of it.

33. I always cheer for the underdog.

34. Spurs are my favourite football team.

35. I was brought up Catholic.

36. I once spent a weekend in Hong Kong, and never slept while I was there.

37. I have flown an Airbus simulator - and an old boeing 737 one too.

38. I want to own a Cessna Caravan one day (would have to win the Lotto though)

39. I nearly died from tick bite fever when I was 19. I lost ten kg in a week.

40. I tried to shoot myself with a Browning 9mm. It never went off.

41. I have seen St Elmo's Fire (not the movie, well actually seen the movie too)

42. I have been crushing on Johnny Depp since I first saw him in 21 Jump Street.

43. I have shot somebody in the leg. On purpose. He was escaping from detention. I still feel bad about it.

44. I have slaughtered a sheep (ugh! never again)

45. I bake my own bread when I have time.

46. I have flown in a Mirage III.

47. I once went to a girl's 21st birthday, and had sex with her mother during the party.

48. I had a blowjob by twins (guys) outside a gay club, in the back of their car.

49. I once did two grams of coke on my own over a 24 hour period.

50. I have a birthmark on my back the size and shape of a slice of bread.

51. I don't have any tattoo's. Yet.

52. My left ear is pierced.

53. I have a burn mark at the top of my left thigh. Boiling water....

54. I have shaved my head twice. For an annual Cancer fund raiser. The last time was two months ago, it's finally growing back.

55. I went to boarding school.

56. I drive a 1997 Fire engine red Fiat Uno. It has 350,000km on the clock.

57. I once drove for 27 hours, stopping every three hours for a fifteen minute nap. Then I drove back again three days later. It's a long story lol.

58. I spent a large portion of my life in a darkroom.

59. Red light still turns me on.

60. I don't know how many sexual partners I have had had. Five have been the opposite sex though.

61. I got beaten up in a pub brawl once. I never got the chance to hit back.

62. That same night, I drove over twenty parking meters to get back at the townsfolk who instigated the fight.

63. I once fell asleep behind the wheel (perfectly sober, but badly fatigued). I never even knew that I had driven someone off the road, thank God their were only minor injuries.

64. The president of Mercedes Benz push started my car outside a fancy hotel in Johannesburg.

65. I smuggled contraband into another country for humanitarian purposes by plane.

66. My father died on a motorcycle when I was 16.

67. I have owned 9 cars, and one motorcycle.

68. I have driven an eighteen wheeler.

69. I once walked 150km (about 90 mi) in four days in full combat gear.

70. I drove through Manhattan, but never found parking.

71. I have been to Niagra Falls, but not to Victoria Falls (which is pretty close to where I live)

72. I have walked in the Serengeti.

73. I once pretended not to be able to speak English to have sex with somebody.

74. I have taken sleazy nude pictures for money. And slept with the model after haha....

75. I once shaved my entire body lol.... Don't.

75. I held the record at a place I once worked for the amount of marshmallows I could stuff in my mouth without gagging.

76. My second name is/was a brand of cigarettes.

77. My father wanted to name me Temegin. (Sanity prevailed)

78. I am circumsized but wish I had been given a choice.

79. I started smoking when I was sixteen.

80. I puked from drinking beer when i was fourteen.

81. I once used a credit card to make a purchase after I had found it in a supermarket. I bought a CD.

82. I have driven 230 km/hr (in a modified Nissan Maxima)

83. I have never been arrested.

84. I have three brothers, and two half brothers.

85. I was a rent boy as a 'hobby' during school holidays in my teens.

86. I have slept with a father and son (not at the same time - and it was many years apart - and the son was legal btw)

87. I kissed a straight boy and his gf found out. It was awkward.

88. I have a standard - non-sexual - fantasy I use to help me get to sleep.

89. I can't sleep on aeroplanes.

90. I am a member of the (gay) mile high club.

91. I was mugged in London.

92. I was given a blow job in the Camera Obscura in Edinburgh by the tour guide lol.

93. I was thrown out of the youth hostel in Edinburgh because I was high on marijuana.

94. I don't like the smell of marijuana.

95. I became addicted to painkillers after a back incident. I seldom use them for anything anymore.

96. I was on anti depressants for three years before seeking therapy. It's been nearly two years now and even though I still ocassionally slip, I deal with it in other ways.

97. I wish I could travel through time.

98. I have had regular dreams about a resort on the edge of a lake since I was in high school.

99. I like being on my own, but sometimes hate it.

100. I can't pee in a public urinal unless I am very seriously trashed and desperate.

New Album! Yay!

So another tidbit about Sethy.

I grew up as a photographer (Clues in my Real Journey posts). But I have always enjoyed the post-processing aspect. With the advent of digital and Photoshop, my world was turned upside down. I embraced the change hungrily - though I miss the cocoon of the darkroom and associated smells.

I helped introduce digital into this country, working as product manager for one of the first importers. I did radio interviews, toured camera clubs, and made people comfortable with the fact that their 35mm camera and slide show days were numbered.

I love new technology.

In the bad old days, I did weddings using a Mamiya 220. I took a grand total of 48 pictures at each wedding. The album consisted of 12 8x10's, all hand printed and mounted to perfection.

Wedding photography covered the cost of my other passions at the time. Before I finished highschool, I was an accomplished pilot with over 400 hrs, and had completed 500 para jumps.

Needless to say, after doing over 800 weddings in my youth, I want to puke if someone asks me to take photo's at a wedding these days. I have never been outstanding behind the lens. My specialty was the darkroom stuff.

So these days, I do photoshop work as a hobby for a couple of photographer friends of mine. It pays the beer bills. Basically, I make their mediocre photography into something that looks professional. The flavour of the month is coffee table book type albums. Being in this lovely country, we often end up being the last to adopt new trends, and this has been one of them.

Finally, we have found a company that prints the stuff fairly decently, and Howie - my favourite Barmitzvah photographer - collected our first samples yesterday, and delivered them last night.

Woohoo! They are Excellent! I have other ideas around the album concept, but have held off till I was happy the quality would be good enough.

Excuse the messy table. It is Charlie the Budgie's spot, and his personal space hygiene is not his strongest point

Epiphany

Sorry I haven't posted in a bit......

Been having an epiphany.

It started some time last week. It is a fact that one has to sometimes sink into a really bad place to re-evaluate things. At my brother's wedding this last weekend, I sunk into depression about where my life is headed, and what have I achieved. It is unavoidable to compare yourself to your siblings, whether it is rational or not.

There are a couple of issues I go through every now and then. The first is always my sexual 'orientation'. I have questioned this issue many many times during my life. I label myself gay, even though I have been with the opposite sex on more than a few occassions. Last year I got involved with an old girl friend from a very long time ago. She spent two weeks with me while visiting from abroad where she teaches in an international school.

I can honestly say that I have never in my life experienced such explosive sex. It was almost as if we had been designed for each other specifically. It was as if we had this little radar thing attached to each other, that would beep when we both wanted it. And it seemed that whenever we were alone, we both wanted it. Again and again. We hardly slept. When she left, it took both of us nearly a week to recover. Nowhere was sacred. The shower, all of the beds, the couch, the floor, the kitchen - even under the dining room table. I had blowjobs in the car on the way to the mall, she came at the movies - twice. The only limit she set was that she wasn't prepared to share me with anyone - no three-ways.

But on a non-physical level, we destroyed each other emotionally. There was something huge missing. We fought after she left and I told her I couldn't see her again. I have never hated someone before, but the things she said to me, about me.... It was beyond anything else I have ever experienced. She even threatened to post naked pics of us on the net, and mail them to my friends - and my children......

So why do I label myself gay? I was married for twelve years, and never felt I was part of my wife. There was no connection. (Okay the sex sucked big time too). If a guy and a girl stood in my field of view, I am always looking at the guy. Always. I watch straight porn to watch the guys' cocks. Lesbian scenes turn me cold.

Men kiss better. Guys' affection is beyond better. Guys smell better. The hardness of a guys body is amazing - even if they are soft. There is something about the shape and form of the male body that is like a religious experience.

The male body is breathtakingly beautiful to me from as far back as adolescence (no, I am not a pedophile).

I have been in love with so many guys, starting from when I was ten or eleven. I have always been afraid of being to close to girls.

But yet, the label still bothers me. I am in a place right now, where I am not actively pursuing any form of sex. I am looking for a connection. I sit behind my PC for most of my day - it's the nature of my work. I chat online every now and then, but it is empty without any physical experience. And not just sexual. I am a tactile person. I like to touch and be touched. I seldom shake hands, I usually hug anyone I meet. If I am with someone, I enjoy public affection - even if it is a hand on a shoulder while I am making a point, or our legs touching while we talk. Even if the person I am with is not an intended sexual partner, no matter what sex they are. I like to hold hands, to be kissed on the shoulder and neck.

Even my straight friends know that if I haven't been hugging them, or putting my arms around their shoulders every now and then, then there must be something wrong.

So emotionally, I can't function properly without physical affection. Over the last few weeks, I have been locked up behind this PC, with almost no affection, and it is like malnutrition, self abuse.

I cannot continue on this current path career wise - no matter the financial implications - if I am starving myself of personal interaction. I am going to wither away like this. So I have been toying with a few options to go forward from here. So, I think a trip to Brisbane is in order. My soulmate and fellow life traveller needs a visit.

More later...

The 'Y' generation self pics

I am always intrigued by the number of Y generation self pics that appear around on the ether. I have a few pics of myself when I was young and beautiful that I guess could easily compete with what is around. But of course, I don't think I would ever post them - and don't bother asking for them either lol.

I have two teenage daughters, and shudder to think that they may get their hands on them one day through some random boy site (I think they are both straight). Or God forbid, I come across one of their pics through some random search...

My oldest brother also has a teen daughter. Through a series of furtunate decisions, he is rather wealthy, and at some point allowed his daughter to move into the cottage adjoining the house. She invited a girl friend over with permission from her parents, but the two girls also invited their respective boyfriends around without the knowledge of my brother.

They took some (innocent) pics, and posted them on facebook. A few days later, a parent from the school called brother, and wanted to know how he can let boys stay over? Needless to say, she is back in the mainhouse, and is no longer allowed on the net in her room. And rightly so.

The converse of all of this is:

Each generation grows up into a norm of acceptable behaviour. Posting self pics, sending each other nude self pics (which opens up the distinct possibility that they will posted somewhere on the net without their knowledge) appears to be acceptable within the generation involved.

So the scenario is this: Let's say I post one of my teen self images on some site, and at some point, one of them or their friends figure out its me. What would in fact be their reaction? Okay I know my girls pretty well, and I seriously think it would be:

"Oh look, that's Dad! Awwww... he was also doing it at some point! Cute! We love our Dad! Always ahead of the game, and not a bad looker when he was young."

So the question of the day is: How would you feel if one of your kids or one of your parents discover your nude self-pics on the net?

I believe everyone should be open to their kids about sex and the consequences. I speak openly about it to mine. They are sexually aware young people, and should not be in the dark the same way I was. They are aware of my sexuality, but I don't flaunt it. It's usually an innocent comment about Wentworth Miller or something like that. Or one of them may ask me whether this (male) celeb, or that is hot? It's cute really.

In hindsght, my mother played a big role in my life in my twenties, after I eventually left Trevor (for the umpteenth time). She realised then that I was a sexual being, and we spoke a lot about sex openly. She too has had her own share of sexual partners in her life, and I am not awkward about talking about it.

When I came out to her officially, she simply expressed disappointment that she would have to now compete with one more person for the hot boys around.

I love my mother, even though she makes me mad sometimes lol.

We never really grow up. Ever.

The Real Journey - Part Three

Trevor fetched me from the hostel early on Saturday morning. The drive to the airport wasn’t far. The school was in a small town, and had a surprisingly busy little airport. Busy in that there were a lot of owner-pilots and student pilots pushing planes around, carrying out pre-flights or listening intently to an instructor. I was in heaven. My father and his father were in aviation. It was in my blood. I wanted to become a fighter pilot. I wanted to soar up where the sky breathes, above the clouds where it is always a sunny day, or starry night….

The Cessna he had booked was a cute little red 172. It was my first time in a light aircraft. I had been in passenger jets, even flown a real Airbus and Boeing simulator, but never in something small. Yes, I was nervous, but above all, I was exhilarated.

After the pre-flight, we taxied out to Runway zero eight, and the old 172 rattled to life and trundled gently towards heaven. As the wheels lifted gently off the tarmac, I suddenly felt that meaning had come to my life. We flew about twenty minutes to where the flatlands met the mountains. There is a beautiful man made lake high in the hills, which we flew over, skimming the sails of lazy yachts and bored sailors. My little camera swallowed up film after film.

Perhaps it was the excitement, perhaps the low steep turns catching my inner ear off guard, perhaps the Welsh rarebit for breakfast, but soon I was puking my lungs out into a small brown bag. I was embarrassed, but we laughed at the suddenness of it all.

Once nice and level again, I took the controls, and did some lazy turns here and there, easing the nausea.

All too soon, the flight was over and the little red Cessna was ticking with warmth on the apron. We went to the flight school where Trevor seemed to know everyone. I was introduced all around, and met who was to be my future flying instructor, Big Bob. Trev bragged about how good a pilot I was already. It was cool. I felt good. I felt important talking to these pilots and pilots to be. It was as if I had walked into the Top Gun movie set. It was a good day so far.

More plans had fallen into place.

The Real Journey - Part Two

I was sent to boarding school for two main reasons. Firstly because my mother was a single mom with four boys, and finances were really tight. Secondly, future step dad had moved onto the scene, and I really didn’t like him so I really just wanted to get out of the house.

During 7^th grade, I had changed. Probably hormonal mainly. I matured physically quicker than my friends. I was in love with half of my male friends, and girls were irritating me. Sethy was a good looking boy, and top of the class, head prefect stuff. The girls all wanted a piece, and I was giving none. My first sexual experience was with a girl, the post is here. I really can’t remember how old I was when it first started to happen. I kept quiet about it because she was officially dating older brother who was already away at boarding school, so I felt crap about it. I was obsessed with wanking, but also thought it was an affliction and not aware at the time that everyone else was doing it.

When I arrived at the new school, I knew no-one except older brother – who I never really saw because he was in the senior hostel. Here I was in amongst a bunch of kids who had gone through junior school together, and I just felt out. I made a conscious decision not to wank. I thought I was doing something grossly wrong, and my cock had taken on a slight bias to the left, which I thought was horrible punishment for masturbation methods. Showers were of the group type, and I found myself to be rather larger than most of the boys, and was subsequently nicknamed accordingly. After two weeks, I couldn’t hold it any longer. I got up in the middle of the night to go pee, and ended up shooting my first real load all over the toilet in about ten seconds. I felt better already…..

Soon enough though, I made friends. More because after our first cycle tests, it became apparent that Sethy was a bit of the genius at the school stuff, scoring higher than everyone, and everyone wanted to be my friend. I started to get letters from girls. Valentines Day is a big affair at the hostel. The junior girls and boys shared a huge dining room for meals, so we were 300 kids at each meal. On valentines, all cards were delivered to the head prefects of the two hostels, and there was this whole ritual. The dining hall was decorated by the girls with balloons and hearts and stuff. After dinner, homework time (Prep) was cancelled for the ceremony of delivering all the cards and letters. Each one was read out, and the recipient had to walk up in front of the entire hall full of people to collect them. It was embarrassing, and it was meant to be. But fun…

So I was expecting about three or four. But ended up getting over fifty. And they let me sit down each time, then called my name again for the next one. So it was one of those things that legends are made of.

Then came the Initiation Concert (Groentjie Concert which literally means concert for the greenies lol). I was placed in a group of girls and we did three skiets. In the one, I was dressed in full scuba gear and had to sing “the Three Little Fishies”. It was a hit! My friends still talk about it today – twenty five years later. So Sethy was a bit camp back then, but because of my popularity, I didn’t really give a fuck. I loved wearing tight pants, and my hair was always longer than regulation. I could say stuff and get away with it.

That’s when Trevor first met me. He was the school photographer and had taken photo’s at the concert. I don’t remember him from then, but he told me about it after. He immediately made up his mind that he wanted me, and in typical pedophile mode, he started to plan. I can say that with absolute confidence, because I have seen him with other boys. The planning was meticulous. It followed a predictable path once you knew how it worked. There was always the confidence building. The building of trust. The ego strokes. The research into likes and dislikes. I saw it time after time over the next ten years. I know that his first response was love. The need for sex came after. I could see it in his eyes, in his mannerisms. He still firmly believes he has loved every one of his boys. I believe he did. But yeah, that’s no real excuse for sex with a minor actually.

A week after my thirteenth birthday, I joined the photographic club after my father bought me my first 35mm camera. It was a piece of shit, but it was mine. After the first meeting – run by Trev – he offered to get me a part time job at a photolab in town. He would arrange the necessary permissions with the hostel master. I felt special. Three days later, I was working at the shop with him, charged with film processing. I loved it. I got to spend a lot of time on my own in the dark, loading films onto a San Marco processor. I can still smell the chemicals and hear the nitrogen been pumped through the developer in short sharp blasts.

At some point, he found out I was crazy about anything aviation, and offered to take me up in a Cessna since he had just completed his PPL. I was ecstatic and I called my mother to get permission to go out with for the weekend so we could do some flying. She agreed and I could barely sleep the next three nights waiting for the weekend.

His planning started to pay off.

What a life changing weekend it was to end up being…

The Real Journey Part One

Bare with me over the next few posts. One of the reasons I am here is because I feel I have a small mission to accomplish. I am not sure how to define it. At first, I thought it was meant only for younger people, as a way of offering advice through telling my own story. But as I read and discover more through you good bloggers of varying ages, I think that perhaps we can all learn something from each other, and from each others’ experiences. There appears to be a common thread among gay bloggers; that is that we often feel isolated and alone in our plight. And for some – like me- it is a real plight. I never chose to be gay. For most of my life, I wanted to just be straight and ‘normal’. Early on, I never understood what it was that was happening to me. I thought I was a freak of some sort. Homosexuality was only referred to in derogatory terms. Fag, Queer, Fruit. Someone to fear, to scorn – and basically deserving of death by stoning. Every homosexual was a pedophile out to hunt school boys.

And of course, my first real experience as a gay person, just happened to be with a pedophile, so it reinforced every negative aspect I had imagined or had been taught through peer interaction. Up until just a few years ago, I lived my life with this dark specter following me around. I was afraid that if it ever came out that I was gay, people would hide their children from me, I would lose all my friends and family. How wrong I was of course. I blamed every thing that had gone ‘wrong’ in my life on the pedophile that ‘tainted’ me.

It was not until the middle of last year, when I finally forgave him, and understood his own plight in life, that I began to fully understand how wonderful my own life is – and has been. I had just chosen to believe that I was damaged goods, and could never be ‘fixed’. I am still on that journey of that self discovery. I learn something new every day, about myself, and about the universe around me. I am not religious in a conventional sense, but I have strong convictions about what is right or wrong. I believe in Karma, and subscribe to the Christ message of love and forgiveness. I also believe very strongly that one cannot love effectively without first learning to love oneself. You cannot accept others fully, until you have accepted yourself. You create your own universe. The rules, I believe, are simple: Use your power to create carefully. If it involves hurting others, it is going to come back and bite you in the ass.

So over the next few posts, I am going to go back in time a little. Back to that first time with Trevor the pedophile. It is his real name, the only real name I will ever use here, it is the only way that I can tell this story without turning it into fiction.

And feel free to express anything on your mind while on this journey with me. Tell me if you think I am being judgmental in any way. Ask me for my email address if there is anything you would like to discuss with me outside of this forum. I love to interact and debate.

The journey continues…..

Welcome

Oh, and welcome to my first followers......

Ken - I will be sure to post some specifics for you
Col - I have always enjoyed your sensitive comments - especially on our younger blogers' posts
Deadwing - Hey, I am sure we will get to know each other as we travel on our journeys together.

Torchy! links to me as well... and thanks for the marketing.

Let me know if you are following through a reader or something so that I know you are there.

And feel free to ask me for my mail address through a comment (if its' not displayed - too tired to check now)

My girls sleep over at my place on Thursdays, so that always brightens my day. S is writing exams (Accounting tomorrow Gr9), and J is in Gr6. J got a Nintendo DS lite thingy for her birthday, so we were doing the Brain Train Dr foomanchu or whatever. Fun! haha!

I been in major depression over last few days - it catches me when I least expect it. I know the symptoms, and handle things accordingly, but its still pretty crap. It's more physiological though - low energy levels, little sleep, no apetite. But I meditate, and keep myself busy with mundane, easy-to-do-things until it passes. And it is passing already. I know what brought it on too.

On Tuesday, W and his flatmate A-str8-girl and I went to the local Irish theme pub to celebrate St Paddy's. Last yr, we were the ones dancing on the barrels, but alas, it was even busier this yr and there was no space to get onto any. We curbed our drinking to Guinesses only. omg there was candy. A-girl and I have the same taste in boys, so we are constantly prodding each other as countless new ones arrived.

W and I always have a game of making up names depending on how the bois look. He was drooling over a Darryl, while my eyes were on a Sven type. Tall Nordic blonde boy. A-girl's boy turned out to be an Earl haha. But at least she got lucky.....

Which led me where I ended up. The crushing, the the feeling of emptiness after. And Movie Boy's refusal to talk to me this week has left me feeling like I handled things badly - I have always assumed that I was nothing to him really. He plays games with me, but games we both understand. But it seems the game has taken on a more serious tone from his side. I don't really understand yet, but intend working on finding out, and making things right between us.

But yeah... time to sleep - have to be up early to get the girls to school.

So I moved to Blogger

Okay, so I have moved from Wordpress to Blogger.... Mainly because most of the blogs I follow are here and not on Wordpress. It makes it easier to see who's following who as well.

If you are new to my blog, take the time to read previous entries. I have tried to keep them in chrono order, though all my memory stuff entries are the most recent ones.

I will be adding the blogs I follow as I get the time......

Even though I have been a regular LiveJournal user for some years now, I decided to start this blog as a seperate project under a little more anonimity. My LJ is specifically for day to day stuff, and remains within a close trusted group of fellow LJ'ers. I am a FaceBook junkie, but it is a primary contact tool with close friends, old friends, schoolfriends and family.

After lurking and following a few blogs, notably Josh, Torchy and Mirrorboy among others (I will be building a list of blogs I follow over the next few days on the sidebar as I get used to using this, I felt compelled to share some of my own stuff.

What really cemented this resolve, was reading some of Grasp The Nettle's interviews - especially Bob's . It made me want to share some of my own earlier and current experiences in the hope that by sharing, it can dilute fears and anxiety for others. I have been through the depression, teenage angst and suicidal thoughts and feel I am right now in a place I should have been many years ago - happy with who I am most of the time. I don't have all the answers, and don't profess to be doing the right thing all of the time.

For the most part, I love my life, but still feel different enough to sometimes be anxious about it.

I am by no means perfect either: I am rotten at relationships; useless at commanding a full time career; hopelessy procrastinationary; and I often abuse my body by smoking too much and enjoying a few too many drinks with my amazing friends.

But.... I consider myself to be a really good (mostly part-time) parent (more about that as we go..); a considerate lover; a loyal friend; a loving relative to a large family. I hope these things will come out the right way as I write.

This blog will help me to remember and document my struggle to come to terms with who I am now. The struggle continues in some ways, but I have come a very long way to be here.

The journey continues.....

Reputations

My parents divorced when I was about seven I think - anyway, it was early enough not to have many memories of him actually living with us. He left my mom with $20 and the mortgage on the house. My mom had never worked before and her first job after he left was with a conglomerate as a telex maching operator in the mail room. Yes, a TELEX machine lol. Anyone remember what that was? She ended up staying until her retirement a few years ago - but not as a telex operator obviously.

She met my stepdad at work, and for some time, she was having an affair with him while he was still married. They ended up spending twenty-five years together until his death a few years ago. I always thought him to be an asshole. He wasn’t fond of kids, and we are four boys in our family.

As a result, we were all sent off to boarding school as soon as we were of highschool age. My oldest brother coped well in the environment, but brother number two hit the weed in 9th grade and mixed with all the wrong crowd. As a result, he was expelled from the school, and ended up living with mother for a year before returning back to the boarding school in the year I went into high school.

No-one remembered the good reputation of brother number one, who was a first team rugby player, a diligent worker and a prefect. I was left to fend off the reputation of brother two. It took me two terms, and top of the class scores to even begin making a reputation for myself. And this only really once brother two was finally expelled for a second time after a drunken insult to a senior master. My own reputation as ‘the gay boy’ caused my little brother so many problems, that he begged my mother to allow him to move back to our home town and attend a local school and live with my grandmother. I only found this out very recently, and feel bad about it still. I honestly did not know how deep the ‘rumours’ went in terms of my sexuality.

I had a secret (very closet bi) boyfriend in Gr11 and some of Gr12. When Aiden broke up with me, I was devastated. At the same time, I had a public girlfriend, who I adored, but on a different level. We were Mr and Miss Couple. I think Aiden in some sick way, confirmed the rumours that were already spreading among the boys that I was some sick pervert to be stayed away from in the showers that was later to cause major stress in little brother’s life. Hell, even I though I was some sick pervert. But by then, I was already damaged goods. Thanks, Mr peadophile. Girlfriend broke it off with me a few weeks before our equavilent of the Prom which takes place fairly early in the year, and went with Aiden instead. Yeah, dig the knife in and twist it.

That was about the time I tried to commit suicide. But that’s another post…

I make Boys Pretty

This is what I do late at night for my beer money.

Please don’t repost this, as it is work for a client photographer…. thanks.

And this is what I do during the day to pay the bills

As introduction - 25 things....

1. I look, act and hang out with people ten years or more younger than me (ie in their twenties or early thirties)

2. I went to high school in the early eighties when being gay was considered a freak of nature.

3. I officially came out to my mother on her sixtieth birthday although there were no real surprises. I was 37 at the time.

4. I was married for twelve years and have two teenage daughters. My ex-wife left me for another woman. The irony.....

5. I don't like to be near animals that weigh more than I do. I just don't. Though I am a cat lover, but only have a budgie as a pet.

6. I did my pilot's licence in high school, though the last time I flew as a qualified pilot was in my twenties. I wanted to be a fighter pilot, but failed the medical exam. Apparently pressure changes and my body don't go well together. I have flown in a Mirage III though.

7. I was conscripted into the military after high school and spent two years in an air defence unit - surface to air missile systems.

8. I have always been in the top three in any course I have taken, yet have never aspired to be academic in any way.

9. I procrastinate in a way that is not good for me.

10. I absolutely hate being late for anything though. It is obsessive.

11. I have had both male and female sexual partners, but have never considered myself bi or straight in essence.

12. I seem to attract good looking women, and psycho men.

13. When a cute guy walks in the door, I first look at facial symmetry and the smile before my eyes wander anywhere else.

14. Humour is a huge turnon. Agression and bad manners are immediate turnoffs.

15. Overage drivers annoy me. There should be a law against it.

16. Race has never been an issue for me, but it has for most of my immediate family.

17. My parents divorced when I was seven. I never saw much of my father until his untimely death on a motorcycle when I was sixteen and he was forty-two. I miss him terribly.

18. I spent all of high school with a paedophile, and some time after. I have finally forgiven him, and take solace that a car accident has left him without any sexual function.

19. I believe in Karma.

20. I am a very bad liar, so avoid having to do so at all costs.

21. I don't like sweet things, but take sugar in my tea and coffee. The same goes for milk.

22. I was born, and currently live in South Africa, though have traveled quite a bit.

23. I want to retire in South America.

24. I currently work in an industry that doesn't really interest me. But it pays the bills. Quite well actually. And I have a lot of time off inbetween projects.

25. I have an extensive 'bucket list', and have pretty much covered a huge chunk of it.