The Second Moon of Adonis

[Scott, don't look. You've been warned.]

I got a little ego boost to start my day today.

I was riding my BART train into the office today, in my own little world, as usual. Sunglasses on, headphones turned up, happily air-drumming away in the back of the train car on my way to work.

As anyone who’s seen Trainstalking already knows, I usually keep an eye on who else is riding the train. This time it was fairly empty, except the guy sitting across from me in the last row on the other side of the train. I glanced over and fired up the camera, thinking he’d make a good addition to the site. He saw me looking over, and smiled at me.

That’s relatively unusual. I’m not used to people smiling at me on the train unless I lose my balance at a stop and fall into them. In those cases, a smile is the best thing that can happen; it gets worse, depending on what kind of person it is and how hard I fall into them.

He was a good-looking guy. Latin, well dressed, probably in his mid-to-late twenties, and he had a great smile. I smiled back… I couldn’t help it.

I shot a couple pictures and went back into my own little commuter world, listening to some Pansy Division and flipping through the pictures I’d just shot of the unsuspecting guy across the train. I noticed that, in every shot, he was looking straight at me. I figured I was finally busted.

I looked back over at him from behind my sunglasses, sure he’d be getting ready to jump across the train and strangle me. He didn’t. He just smiled at me again, and glanced down at his lap.

When I looked down, I noticed he was rubbing a very obvious hard-on through his jeans, and a minute or two later had his pants unzipped and pulled it out to show it off to me.

No, I didn’t get pictures of that, and yes, I did get off at my usual stop and went to work, though I suspect he’d have been happy to make me late.

Next time I complain about getting old, remind me I can still get cute guys more than 10 years younger than me to whip out their dicks, wouldjya?

Published at blog.Adonis.net. You can comment here or there.

I’ve been blond for about a year and a half now. Various shades, from Lightest Ash Blonde to Natural Blonde to scary reddish Too-Long-Since-My-Last-Blond.

I’m considering giving it up, for several reasons. One of them is the work involved. I barely have time on the weekends as it is, and blowing a couple hours every several weeks just to keep the roots under control is really starting to feel like work. It also hurts and smells pretty damned bad.

The downside: I have no idea how much grayer I’ve become in the last year and a half, but I suspect it’s significant. I’m not sure I want to know just how significant. I have a hard enough time dealing with the aging process without people calling me “distinguished.”

I’m not completely decided yet; it’s not easy relinquishing my one little bit of control over the aging process. I can’t stop the little lines digging ever deeper next to my eyes, and my joints will be popping when I get out of bed for the rest of my life. I can, however, make the gray hair go away with a little effort.

Maybe it’s another sign of aging that I’m not sure I’m willing to put in that effort any more. Maybe it’s resignation: a coming to terms with the knowledge that, no matter how much I try to hide it, I’m not the youngster I once was and never will be again.

Then again, I’ve always wanted a mohawk.

Published at blog.Adonis.net. You can comment here or there.

I've been in various kinds of pain for the last two days. Yesterday it was a sore back and another chronic, but somewhat embarrassing, pain issue that cropped up around 10:00pm and again at 3:00am this morning.

At around 7:00 I woke up with yesterday's back pain having transformed itself into a feeling like someone had twisted me into a knot and then ran over me with a small car a few times. Fortunately, it only hurts if I look to the side, or breathe deeply, or sit in front of a computer.

I don't really mind aging all that much, but it fucking hurts.

I was up late Wednesday night, since I got roped into representing the team from work at a company bowling tournament next week. We don’t want to look like the uncoordinated dorks that we are, so we went out after work to practice. Several pitchers of beer later we noticed it was 1:30 am, and that even though we still sucked, we’d practiced enough for one night.

I’m not saying I’m old or anything, but my legs hurt, my shoulder’s sore, and my hand’s been bent into a claw for two days.

Fine, I’ll say it. I’m old.

Published at blog.Adonis.net. You can comment here or there.

I was up late Wednesday night, since I got roped into representing the team from work at a company bowling tournament next week. We don't want to look like the uncoordinated dorks that we are, so we went out after work to practice. Several pitchers of beer later we noticed it was 1:30 am, and that even though we still sucked, we'd practiced enough for one night.

I'm not saying I'm old or anything, but my legs hurt, my shoulder's sore, and my hand's been bent into a claw for two days.

Fine, I'll say it. I'm old.

Strange things started happening when I turned 40 last June.  I’m not just talking about having to yank hair out of parts of my body that never had it before. It’s not fact that I sound like firecrackers going off on Mexican Independence Day when I pull myself out of bed in the morning. I’m not referring to the way my metabolism has gotten so slow it seems to be going in reverse.

The strangest stuff is all psychological.  I don’t recall it ever happening before my 40th birthday, but from time to time I’ll mentally calculate how much time I’ve got left. I start thinking about all the things I really need to do before I’m really old.

It’s actually a bit motivating. After all, if I don’t get my ass in gear and start doing the things I’ve always promised myself I’d do one of these days, I could run out of time without them ever getting done.

Published at blog.Adonis.net. You can comment here or there.