It's been quite a while since I updated this, and quite a bit has changed, so here goes, again. It's said that pictures speak a thousand words, so here's a few of myself... (sorry, no new ones, you want something current, go back to the main page and look at the live cam when I'm logged on at home)
If ya don't like them, then go away (:
Ok, now for the boring parts... I was born in (we think) St. Joseph's Hosptial in Kansas City, MO. (When even your birth certificate is a lie, you've gotta start wondering right now what kind of person I am) A short period after that, I was sent home with a foster mother, where I stayed for about a month, then my parents took me home to their small suburban home be their wonderful happy baby that they'd wanted for years (I'm adopted, ain't it cool?)... About ummmm 9 months later, they had my little brother (the only child my mother ever birthed (thank God, he's a handful))
My first memory of anything is visiting my grandparents house in arizona one year, my brother wanted to sing for the tape recorder. (He did, was always a showoff, even when he was 3 or 4) I went to pre-school at somebody's house, Mrs. Boone if I remember right. I don't really remember much else about that. We used to visit with a friend of my mom's who also was a former schoolteacher, and also had adopted and then less than a year later had one of their own. For whatever reason after the Jerm and I started school and mom started working part-time, we stopped seeing them. I don't know why. Mom substitue taught for the school district that we lived in (which she had worked for full time before they adopted me) from the year I started Kendergarten till I was in the 5th grade. (With a year or so off to work at K-Mart). I went to Westview Elementary School for all 7 years (K-6) of elementary school. The Jerm was always a year behind me, thank god.
Somebody vandalized the Kindergarten rooms that year... I didn't have school for a few days as I recall. Mrs. Allen in the first grade taught me my first life lesson. Grownups lie. (Kinda sucks to lear that so early, but oh well) The 2nd Grade was Mrs. Long, and she was blesssed with having a classroom in the basement with the first grade and kindergarten classrooms and therefor had her own restrooms. Thank god, I was terrified of the "big" restrooms (I don't KNOW why, so don't ask) In the 3rd grade, I found out that I was smarter than the average bear, because we split up for reading and math. the "high" group from all 3 teachers went to 1 teacher for math, same for reading. (the other 2/3 of the kids were split into middle and low, and went to the other 2 teachers.) The ffirst lessons in interaction were really learned this year. Kids that I didn't normally interact with were in my reading and math classes. OOOO. I learned really quickly that I was different here, the other smart kids all kinda stuck togeher, and I hung on the fringes. They dressed different than me, they listened to different music, it was a different world. I didn't really THINK about what music I listned to. (I really didn't have a whole lot of choice, the only time I had access to a radio was in the car, where all we had was an am radio, and it was alwas on a country station.) I remember a little more about 4th grade. Missouri history year... Everything we did revolved around that it seems. Mrs. Norton. That was her name. The fat lady. Mothers day that year some boiling water slipped on my leg and Grandma's house and I screamed a holy terror fit. It was Mother's Day, so the whole damned family was there, about 40 people or so... Terrible mess it was. I just remember being int he bathroom with my leg in the tub, soaking in cold water and my mother saying to me "don't cry so loud, Grandma has a bad heart and you might give her a heart attack if you don't stop" I had fucking 2nd degree burns on my leg, and she's telling me to not cry so loud. Bitch. I'll never forgive her for that.
Mom's parents must have moved back to Missouri that summer, bbecause I remember spending a lot of time at their house. They had a HUGE park behind their house that was a lot of trees and such and Jerm and I liked to get lost there. I got posion ivy in my burn beofre it got healed up and it itched like heck. Sometime in here I stopped taking piano lessons. Jerm got better at it than me and directo competition was always a conflict maker, so I just quit. 5th grade.... Mrs. Sims... she had a computer. REALLY COOL. It was something that was usable. It was color and it made noise! I wanted one. Mom got a full time job working for the school district that year, working as a teacher's assistant. Not a regular teacher, just somebody to take a reading class or a math class from one of the 2 6th grade teachers. The worst part of this? She was not just in my district, but my school, as a matter of fact, the room right next door to my homeroom! I was just horrified. I had no friends that year. It was bad. I don't remember if it was the summer between 5ht and 6th or the summer between 4th and 5th that my parents tried to get me to play baseball. I couldn't hit anything and I usually ened up getting hit with the ball when it was pitched. Found out when school started that year that I needed glasses, hrm. Is it any wonder that I couldn't hit a baseball? Sixth grade was ok I guess. Well, I shouldn't say that, I don't remember much of it. I got into the indepentant studies group (basically the gifted program) that year. We went to the state capitol. God was i that young. I guess I was. I met some people from another elementary school. One of them ended up being the valedictorian of my high schol graduating class. Matt Miller. Scary kid. Phone Freak, and Hacker extrodinaire. That gets us through grade school. By this time things at home were starting to get a littl nasty. Jerm and I fough on a pretty regularr basis, and things generally ended up in a shouting match between dad and me and Jerm. Blech. I think it was this summer that I first start cutting grass for a neighbor. A friend of mine and I cut her grass every week, for $8. In later summers Dad and Jerm got into the picture. I stopped doing this after I turned 16.... well, I think I was 17, Jerm was 16. It was just a whole lot of work and misery.
Ok, so that's through elementary school. Ya bored yet? This is really as much for me as it is for you. (: So, I went to Plesant Lea Junior High, the only junior high, for 7th and 8th grade. Was a 3 partial story building. (3 floors, but only the 2nd floor went all the way across) I got the chicken pox in the 7th grade. Was out of school for a week straight. Was pretty nasty. Little red spots all over my body and everything. Was in the audio/visual club. What fun. (: (I TOLD you I was a geek). Learned more than I had any right to know about amplifiers and video equipment. That summer is kinda lost to me right now. Wonder what happened. School started again, more classes, had a full year of typing, took algebra that year also. Lunch was in the middle of algebra class. We'd leave the room for 30 minutes, and come back and the room would be freezing. The typing classroom was next door and it seems the 2 rooms shared a thermostat. The math room was comfortable in the morning, and the typing room was too warm, in the afternoon, the math room was freezing cold, and the typing room was about right.
9th grade. We moved that year in March. Well, really the end of February. Well, it's complicated. We sold our house the end of February, moved into grandma and grandpa's house (mom's parents) for about a month, and moved into our "new" house the last week in March. This was a really nasty time. The week we sold our house, dad's dad was diagnosed with cancer, and the week we moved into the new place, he died. It too dad several years to get over the "I hate this house" thing. I met Charlie the summer between 8th and 9th grade.. at a church thing. I was really active in the church youth group. It was a great escape. Learned a lot about how people should treat each other there. Charlie turned out to be my best friend, really. He was gay, but never tried to make a move on me, if ya know what I mean. He was happy to just be around me. 2 years older than me. We'd go see a movie nearly every Friday evening. He hated his family, with good reason, I didn't care for them either, they were really strange. By this time I didn't like my family much either, and was starting to really show it. I failed Geometry 3rd quarter. I think I got it back up to a C by the end of the semester, but I just wasn't motivated at all to do anything. Met a girl, named Maria. She was mentally unbalanced, but I liked her. Kinda overweight, with pimples, and long black hair. Never did anything with her (hey, guess, what, I'm gay, but I didn't figure that out for a while yet). Maria was somebody to talk to at school, Charlie was somebody to talk to out of school, and the computer was there for the rest of the time in between.
Sophomore year... 10th grade. I had English II/Short Fiction with Jack Cady 1st period. I'm still not quite sure how I got into this class. I think I was the only person in the class who really could read. We did the NY Times crossword every Monday morning. That was his idea of a vocabulary lesson. Was the most fun I had in school. The other days of the week he would read short stories to the class, while we "read along" I thought this was really boring, but, hey, it was fiction, so while he was reading stuff out of the "provided textbooks" I just buzzed through the rest of the book. About 2 weeks into the year, he decided to do a Stephen King short story, one that I'd read about 2 days before (I'm a King fan, and was reading one of his collections of short stories just then) I explained that to him, and he told me, fine, whatever, the rest of them can't read, so as long as you spend the hour reading something, I don't care what it is, just don't do homework for other classes. So I spent the entire year reading King novels 1st period. I don't remember much about the rest of the year. I was in Men's choir for the 2nd year. Maria and Charlie we still around. I still ate lunch with the losers. OH! Mom and Dad got the attic finished the summer between 9th and 10th grade, and I moved up there. Finished off it was 13 feet by 26 feet. Could have been an apartment, but lacked a bathroom. I spent most of my time "at home" locked up there with the door closed. I became more and more withdrawn from the 3 downstairs who liked to yell at everything.
Let's see, that takes us to Junior year. Oh, I went to church camp in the summer, met a girl named Rebecca, really nice girl. Pretty blonde hair. Easy to talk to. Got my driver's license this year. Bought a car, Plymouth Turismo. I will never own another Chrysler product again. Thing nearly killed me. I got sick a lot that year. I'd wake up in the morning and feel just miserable, and my body temp would be a degree or 2 low. Mom, of course, said there was nothing wrong with me and I should just be quiet and go to school. Turns out I'm hypoglycemic. Thanks a lot, bitch. Seems I had several little "minor" medical problems as I was growing up, but, hey, I didn't know I wasn't normal, and mom and dad certainly didn't care to find out what was wrong with me. Anyway, with the car, I discovered the joys of freedom. I started going to the airport a lot, I'm not sure why... I'd just walk from one end of the terminal to the other. I'd also go to this military surplus place on the other side of town. Dad was always wanting to know where I went, and I'd never tell him. It was none of his business, ya know? He was checking my mileage on the car too, it was funny, he couldn't figure out where the hell I was going that was several hundred miles round trip. He just never understood that when I said I just went for a drive, I really did just go for a drive. Get on the interstate and drive until I didn't remember what I was running away from, and then turn around and go home. Some days took longer than others. I always eventually ended back up at home tho. I didn't really have any other place to go. Many times I wished I did, but... Charlie and I hung out a lot on the weekends. Mom and dad didn't generally say much about it, I was out of the house during the day and back home in time for prime time TV.
Senior year! The end of the line, nearly. Got perfect attendance both semesters, due mostly to the fact that the school started a new "incentive program" in which your semester final couldn't hurt your grade. (It normally counted 10% of your grade, but.. if you didn't miss ANY school, at all, then it couldn't hurt you.) I really pissed off most of my teachers, because I didn't study for my finals, I just put my name on the paper and read a book the whole hour. Thank god. The rest of the year was pretty much unremarkable. I graduated (yea!) and was finally free. I scored high enough on the ACT to get a state scholarship that would pay my tuition at any of the 5 state colleges. I picked the 1 that was 3 hours away from home and in the 3rd largest metro area in the state. (The other 4 colleges are in little bitty towns that exist only because the school is there. Take out the school, the town would die). Anyway. I don't remember much of my senior year. I got a migrane one day at school, 1st period. Probably because of not enough water and low blood sugar. Misty Pierce gave me some horse pill sized aspirin and I managed to live the rest of the day. Misty was a real nice girl. Drove her home from school pretty often. Her and some guy. I can't remember his name. I spent the 3rd year in a row in choir sitting behind john davis. Damn he was cute. Little bulldog face. *woof* He always wore a pair of well-worn jungle boots and jeans. Was a wrestler. *woof* I think he joined the Air Force. Too bad, waste of a good man.
That concludes the journey from birth to the end of high school. I realized my life-long goal at this point, I was legally able to move out of my parents house and not required to move back, I could drop off the face of the earth, and nobody could stop me. Here's a scary picture of what I looked like that summer (the summer of 1991)
To say I was a little chunky would be nice. I'm 5'8" tall, and I weighed in at about 180-185 pounds that summer. That's the picture from my college student id, by the way, so the quality isn't so great anyway.
Anyway.. I went to college at Southwest Missouri State University, in Springfield, MO in the fall of 1991. Why there? I got a state scholarship that would basically pay my tution for any of the 5 state universities, and Springfield was the only one that was 1) 3+ hours away from the parents on a 3 lane highway that they weren't likely to drive often, and 2) in a town big enough that it wasn't just a college town, where if the college shut down, the town would too.
I lived in a "co-ed" dorm the 1st semester. (All 1st year students were required to live on campus or with their parents) It wasn't what I consider "co-ed" tho.. I dunno. (: It was 2 towers, each about 9 stories high, with a common lobby. The girls in 1 tower, the guys in the other. The layout was ok tho. Each "room" was 3 bedrooms, a bathroom, and a common room. So 6 guys shared a bathroom and common room, and 2 guys shared a bedroom. I got stuck with some 30-something guy named Jeff (damn it's annoying to share a room with somebody who shares your name). He was a theatre person, and depressing as hell. I didn't do much with him. I discovered the computer lab. I spent a LOT of time there, meeting people. There was a campus BBS that could be accessed from the labs and some of the dorm rooms fairly easily... I met a lot of people there, and joy, I started to make friends. Grandma died that semester. I was doing my best to not talk to my parents, I didn't like them, and I just wanted to be away from them, but I still talked to them every week anyway. My brother called, on a thursday, if I remember correctly. Grandma had died earlier in the week, but my parents didn't want to call because they knew I had a math test that week. What fantasy world did they live in? Well, this was just another in a long string of "We were trying to protect you" from them. This is why I didn't want to live there. Too many years of "we did it to protect you" and "you're wasting your life" stops with this. The only person who ever treated me like I was just another part of the family, who always tried to understand, who never ever made me wonder if it was just because I was adopted, was dead, and my "parents" didn't even tell me about it. The rat who I call my brother called me and told me. I hopped in the car and drove home. 3 hours later, I was there. I got the whole story. Grandma was in the hospital over the weekend, she wasn't doing well. The doctors said she'd be ok. Then.. the doctors decided maybe they were wrong, she wasn't going to make it much longer. What do they do? Call my mom's brothers, in Arizona. My Uncle, wonderful person that he is, hopped a plane, my dad and brother picked him up at the airport. They drove him to the hospital. He went to her room, and soon after, she died. I was 3 hours away, and they didn't call me. He was half a country away, and he was there when she died. I will always love the people who raised me and called me their own, but they will NEVER EVER understand me.
At the end of the 1st semester, I put in for a dorm change... to one of the other 2 dorms that was open year-round (I didn't want to go spend 3 weeks with the parents for christmas). I got lucky, and got in, and moved my stuff across the parking lot the day everybody else was moving out of the building.
I got parked in, if I remember right, room 324, which was a 2-bedroom suite with 3 other people in it already. Jason Sifford and Robert somebody were in 1 room, and the other room was this messy sloppy fat kid who's mama wouldn't let him live at home because he was a pig. (His idea of doing laundry was to spray lysol on the armpits of a shirt and hang it in front of the window). I was SUPPOSED to live with the fat kid, but Robert moved out about 3 days after I moved in, and I moved my stuff in with Jason. Jason's mom lived in town, but he had a full scholarship, which paid for room and board, so he opted to live in the dorm instead of his mom's house. He was probably the best friend I'd had in years. (: We'd go grocery shopping on sunday nights, play canasta, do laundry, etc together. He was a piano major, and when classes were in, he practiced and practiced and practiced, so I didn't see him much. That was ok, after classes started back up, I met a little fuzzy guy named Iain Davis. He ran the campus BBS, among other things. (: We ran around together some. He'd camp out on Jason and I'd sofa about one night a week a lot of the time. Oh! I forgot to mention... I was working night campus security at this time also, so 3 or 4 nights a week, I'd be out till about 3 am, and I'd always miss my 8am class the next morning, and I just didn't give a damn. (: Iain would stay up till 4am, and miss his first 2 classes in the morning also. (:
Thus ends the 1st year of college. The day before I had to move out of the dorm (I wasn't taking enough summer classes for them to let me stay), I found an apartment a few blocks away. To say my parents were shocked would be putting it mildly. They didn't understand how I could manage to do that, they weren't sending me THAT much money.... But, I did it, signed a 6 month lease, got the phone installed, etc, and started looking for a job. and looking. and looking. By the 2nd week of June, I was wondering if I was going to make it on my own or not. The whole point of this was to get away from my parents, and if I had to ask them for money, then I'd still be subject to their "look at what a waste of money you are" attitude. I didn't want that. About this time, I decided to join the Marines. Crazy thought, huh? Me, the fat kid who moves slow and is so out of shape it isn't funny wants to be a Marine?! Hahahahaaha. Well, the recruiters didn't laugh, they jumped at the chance. I scored high on the ASVAB, I was smart, I was what they needed to make their quota. Smart, eager, slightly crazy. (: They put me on delayed entry for a few months until my desired job field became open... and about 3 days later I landed a job as a night security person. Fun fun. I had no life that summer. I worked all night, came home, went to bed, got back up, went to class, came back home, went back to bed, got up and went to work. Blech. It was horrible, but I loved it. I was "on my own".... supporting myself, I still had some contact with my friends, tho not much, as I was always either sleeping, at work, or in class.
I had sex the first time that summer. I was 19 years old, and had never jacked off, nothing. I figured I was just broken, I didn't work like the other guys did. It was with Charlie... My friend from high school.. He was gay, I knew what he wanted. I was trying to pretend that life didn't happen, and wanted him to go away. I let him fuck me, dear GOD that hurt. I did him too, didn't see much point in it. After.. we sat and watched a movie, and I let him fondle my dick. It was hard anyway, and he liked playing with it, so I didn't see a problem. After oh, 30 minutes or so, it started feeling different.. I told him maybe he should stop.. He said he didn't think so, and kept going... 5 or 10 minutes later, I shot, up over my shoulder and everything. I've rarely SHOT since then, generally it just kinda dribbles. To say it was incredible would be inadequate. That's when I started this long chain of hurt men in my life. We cleaned up, and he went back home, and I don't think I spoke with him more than once or twice after that. I have no idea what's happened to him.
The summer ended, and classes started back up. I signed up for a full load again, quit the night job, went back to the campus security job (2nd shift this time tho, instead of 3rd) and waited..... My recruiter called in late October and asked if I'd like to go in early (My scheduled date wasn't until March) I said sure... so on November 1st, 1992 (god, was it really that long ago) I officially entered the Marine Corps. They flew me to San Diego (remember, I was living in Missouri, west of the Mississippi, so I went to San Diego, east of the Mississippi goes to Paris Island)
*whew* long read so far, right, bet you're wishing I'd just get to the good stuff. Well, I must ask, what good stuff...? (I've been in the middle of writing this for a LONG time, I figured I'd put some more time in tonight.. so, continuing on with the story...
I got a call in the middle of October, from my recruiter, wanting to know if I wanted to go early. I was slated for the middle of March, but he wanted to make his 4th quarter numbers. I said yes, I was eager to get the hell out of dodge, as the saying goes. So, without further adeu, I packed up all my stuff, sent it to live with friends of mine (Jason and Iain) and left. What fun. To say dad wasn't happy about me leaving the car with a friend instead of him would be mild.... it was in my name tho, he had no "legal" claim to it. I went so far as to send letters to Iain telling him to get the car out of town if my dad came to get it. That only happened once tho, so it wasn't a big issue... Anyway, back to the story..
On November 1st, 1992, at the Little Rock, Arkansas Military Entrance Processing Station, I was sworn in to the United States Marine Corps. They put me on an airplane to San Diego, along with a couple of other guys. That was probably the first and last time I've gotten on an airplane with NO luggage. Flew Little Rock to Ft. something, to Kansas City, to Los Vegas, to San Diego. (The military has no problems with sending you all over the world to get you where they want you 1) at the right time and 2) the right price. In this case, the right time is as close to midnight as possible. We got to the airport, and made our way to where we were supposed to be met... There were a bunch of guys outside on the sidewalk, with a Marine standing over them, nobody was talking, we must be in the right place. About the time we walked up, a schoolbus painted olive drab green pulled up, and we were shouted at to get on, hurry up, we're too slow. I'd be told THAT many times in the next 3 months. I was clueless, I had no idea where we needed to go, or anything. I just did what I was told, get on the bus, be quiet, don't ask questions, follow orders. Well, that's easy enough, right? The bus drove for what seemed like forever, it was dark, quiet, and we were all nervous beyond belief, besides the fact that we'd all been awake all day, many of us hadn't had our chances for a caffiene or nicotine fix since the afternoon. Thankfully I've never smoked, and was off caffine for a long time before I made THIS move... But, a lot of guys were restless. Eventually we pulled up in front of a building and stopped, we were told to "fall out"... we all kind of stumbled out of the bus, and, as directed, put our feet on the yellow footprints and stood at attention, or our best approximation, considering we'd been Marines for less than 24 hours and had no idea what the hell we were doing. We got a friendly Drill Instructor, who I'll never remembers name, who put us through the paces... into the building, don't talk, follow the recruit in front of you, don't look around, answer the questions you're asked fill out this form, get in this line...
I graduated boot camp in January of 1993 (the 22nd or the 29th, if my memory serves, which it really doesn't much of the time, but the calendar says that those 2 fridays are about the right time, and I know it was january when I graduated.) My parents weren't real thrilled with me joining the Marines in the first place, and I had purposely kept my distance from them, but I did let them know when my graduation was, and they came and watched. That was the first and last time I got to wear my Dress Blue's "for real". (I'll expound on boot camp sometime later)
After boot camp, I had 10 days off, went back to my parents for part of that time, went and spent a few days with my college friends, and re-discovered the joys of jacking off. Whee. Then I hopped a plane back to San Diego to report for training at Camp Pendleton (just north of San Diego about oh, 20 miles or so). 2 weeks on guard duty, then 4 weeks in MCT (Marine Combat Training... basic infantry skills for every Marine, then on to Memphis for more training..... Well, that was the plan, anyway. 3 weeks into MCT, I came off the roof of a building wrong during a combat simulation and broke my hip. Tuesday of the 3rd week. The swelling went down by friday, but the corpsmen (a different one every day) just kept giving me motrin and telling me I was fine. Tuesday of the 4th week, they finally x-ray'd my hip. They wanted to file malingering charges against me, but they needed real medical evidence. Oops. As I lay there on the x-ray table thinking several things... 1) it's been 2 hours since I had any motrin in me, it's gonna start hurting pretty bad in a little bit. 2) the mess hall closes for dinner in an hour, and it's gonna take me about half that to get my pants and boots back on, and 3) I wonder what the fuck is taking them so damned long. A fellow Marine came in to get something and I asked him what the hell was going on, the x-ray tech took the pics, developed them, came back, took more, and told me not to move, but wouldn't tell me why, I was hoping to get the answer out of this Marine... He said he couldn't tell me. I asked why, he said he wasn't a doctor, I said so what, you know what it is, so tell me. He said I'd broken my hip. Shit. They put me on a stretcher and parked me in a hallway so they could call the hospital and let them know they were brining me. That took them another oh, hour or so. By this time, I was staring to feel more than just a little pain again, and when somebody bumped into my stretcher, I screamed at him. That got me some attention. Like a baby, I learned real fast, these people would respond to me if I made noise, they'd been ignoring me for the last week, and now they were all looking at how to keep me from getting them all in a shitload of trouble. I didn't give a damn, I just wanted to move my leg and get some drugs for the pain. Anyway. They drove me to the hospital and got me admitted. I'm laying there in a bed..... oh, damn, I wonder how I got there. Shit, I don't remember that part. Thank god for painkillers. Anyway. I'm laying there in bed, and this nurse is trying to take a medical history on me, asking blah blah blah, and how long have you had this rash on the bottom of your left foot. Umm, gee, not more than a week. Did you know your left leg is a half an inch shorter than your right, says she? REALLY? It wasn't before I broke my hip! She looked down at the chart she was working on, looked back up at me, blushed, and hurried out of the room. (I didn't make a friend there, the dumb, well, whatever). Doctor Discharge pinned my hip back together and sent me home for a month. What fun.
It was a pain in the ASS, stuck at my parents house, I coulnd't go anywhere, I was doped up for most of the first week... After about 10 days, I pulled the staples out and then hopped in my car and drove down to see my friends at college. That was MUCH better, no parents constantly asking questions that I didn't feel like answering. Anyway, after a month, I went back to Camp Pendleton and waited for them to discharge me.... Finally, they did. (:
Ok, here's where things start getting a little ummm, well, short.. this part needs work
I moved back to Missouri, a friend of mine from college and I got an apartment together, I was doing great, still pulling a paycheck from the Marines, not working, I took a class that fall (failed it and gave up on college ever since, maybe I'll go back again, someday) I was kinda depressed that summer tho, and I couldn't figure out why... I was sitting in my chair one day, logged on to the college's mainframe, reading usenet news, and it hit me. I was kinda down because I missed the guys. Always there, hot, hunky, uniformed, MEN! Hrm. I missed being around MEN all the time. SHIT, maybe I'm gay. (: I switched gears with what I was reading, started reading the "gay" groups, got onto IRC, found a "gay" channel, and planted myself for a while (a couple of years, to be more correct).
I met a guy on IRC, well, several of them really. I ended up moving to Oakland, CA, to live with one of them tho. My first love. (: He's still a great guy, I just can't live with him anymore, he drives me too crazy sometimes. (: He and I moved to Missouri, (he lost his job and I was homesick)... A while later, he and I split, he moved back to Oakland, I stayed in Kansas City... That was a bad idea, my parents would drop by without calling, and twice showed up when I was naked in bed with another guy. They just couldn't understand why I didn't want to let them in the front door. (: I got fed up with my employer at the time (Gateway 2000) and took a month off. I went to Florida and stayed with another guy that I'd met on IRC, and he and I decided to move to Atlanta. We moved his stuff, and then went back to Missouri and got MY stuff, and we rented a little nasty place on the south side of Atlanta.
Well, things were kinda hairy with the 2 of us for a while, I had no job, and he didn't for a while.. He managed to get a decent job tho, and eventually I did. We moved up to the north side of Atlanta to a nice 2 bedroom house, where I lived for about 2 years. He and I split up after about a year and a half, but we're still good friends. After Blair moved out, I went back to looking for people on IRC... found David and invited him to live with me, also met John... John was a big guy, 6'4", hairy, muscular, a few years older than me, and all bottom. I still have the paddle he gave me to beat his butt with, but that's all that's left. Along with David, I invited someone named Jeff to move in with us. Biggest mistake I ever made in my life. I gave him my heart, he tried to kill me. May of 1997 I threw him out, David moved in with him a few weeks later. I got a new job in october of that year, traveling around the country and was hardly at home. I still tried to get John to go out with me tho. He was always too busy, damned workaholic.
I met a really great guy in NYC in february of 1998 (I have friends in NYC that I was visiting at the time)... He and I chated on IRC, I went to visit every weekend. He's my age (none of the other guys I've been involved with were within 5 years of my age) and he's cute and funny. When he gets a web page (he says he'll make one soon) I'll add a link to it from here so you can get to know my current love interest. I'm a sappy romantic at heart, and well, this one knows what I need. We've been together nearly 2 years now, a record for me. I love to meet people, and I like to play, so don't let my furry lover scare ya off. (Maybe I'll get him to hypnotize you after I tie you up... hrm... so MANY possibilities)
1999 was an odd year for me. My ex, Blair, moved to NYC and slept in Scott and I's little manhattan apartment for almost a month. We decided to buy a house and started looking seriously. I got a new job in October 1999 (October seems to be "get a new job" month for me). September 9th... 9/9/99, John died. I still miss him, I guess I always will. We had a re-discovery of sorts after Scott and I got together, after I'd moved to NYC (did that in september of 1998 after spending all but 1 weekend there from april 17th, 1998 until then). Anyway. John finally got some time, and we talked. I loved him, he loved me, I lived with Scott in NYC, he lived with a roomie in his house in atlanta. I would try to get some time to see him every time I was in Atlanta for work, and then, *boom* he's gone. David sent me an e-mail, the first one he'd sent in close to a year (there's still a lot of mistrust there, let me tell ya) and let me know that John had died.
In 2000, we've proven that the y2k bug was a lot of work that got finished on time. (Being one of the computer industry professionals who had to work that weekend, I'll say, we, as an industry, did pretty well) Scott and I closed on our house in February, it's March 28th right now, I'll be 27 in about 2 hours. My life is pretty good.
Now for the update... wow, it's been a long time since I worked on this... It's October of 2001, a year and a half since I last worked on this. So, let's see. June of 2000 was the requisite pride stuff, and I saw a doctor for the first time in several years, nothing really wrong with me, just a little short on b12. Scott went to the same guy in July, and tested HIV positive. Oh wow. Talk about a kick in the ass. We went to inferno that september... I just kinda wandered around in a fog... My grandfather died that september.. March of 2001 CT (the people I work for) finally got me out of Morgan Stanley (the client I'd been working at for 18 months). Most of april I sat on my ass and wondered if I was gonna get fired. In may, just as my mood was finally starting to improve, they sent me off to delaware for a 2 month assignment. I was home every weekend, but I wasn't getting any support from scott. I told him to leave, I couldn't live with someone that doesn't give back any emotional support. 4th of July he showed up at my door, and we talked, for the first time in nearly a year, we really talked. Things are good and bad right now.. but.. *shrug*
Ok, so now that you've either read my life story, or at least scrolled through the whole damn thing, you want to know what I like, what I'm "into" what "turns me on", well. (: Pervert! (:
Well, first, you should know that I'm not your typical gay guy. (: I don't do "vanilla" things, to start, and I don't play just one side. I'm a switch, I like to be both top and bottom, both Dom and sub... So what interests me? Lots of things. (: If you're up on your hanky code (I'm not very, but am enough), here's the list, top/Dom only, then both, then bottom/sub
navy blue, teal blue, dark red, brown, brown satin
black, grey, red, light pink, dark pink, magenta, yellow, pale yellow, fuschia, olive drab, beige, red/white stripe, red/black stripe, brown corderouy, black velvet, teddy bear, dirty jock, kleenex
medium blue, hunter green, grey flannel
Now, ya say, you don't know what any of that is, huh? Well, in order of what's listed..... Fucker, Cock and Ball torturer, 2-handed fister, scat, cut (as opposed to uncut). S&M, bondage, fisting, dildos, tit torture, armpits (licking and getting licked), piss (on and in), spit, spanking, military, rimming/asslicking, shaving, bears, headmaster/student, takes videos/will perform for camera, cuddling, wears or sucks a dirty jockstrap, stinks or sniffs stinky men. Copsucker, daddy seeker, likes men in suits.
Now, a few others. (: BOOTS, giving/taking orders, dog training, enemas..
I'm tired, I'm gonna quit now. (: If you want to know anything else, send me e-mail
Geeze, I hate that question. What do I want? What do I need? Well.... Somebody to hold me tight and tell me that the world IS fucked up, but it will be ok. Somebody to keep me warm at night in bed. Somebody to share my life with. Sure, I want friends, but let's face it, I'm not an easy person to get along with. 2 have made it past the 1 year mark, and I love them both dearly. I need to feel needed. I need to take care of somebody sometimes. I can be very controlling and manipulative. I can be very kind and caring. I can be the nicest person you've ever met, and I can be the rudest nastiest person you've met.
I'm a very affectionate person. I like to touch, to feel. I like to get a guy naked, and spend hours going over every inch of their body. (: Ingrown hairs are my friend. So are blackheads and pimples. I like hairy guys. Skinny "young looking" guys don't even bother trying to get me naked, I'll talk to ya, but ya won't get my dick hard. Big, furry, that gets me going..... A friend (and both my former lovers) asked me.... What do you want.... Well....... I want a daddy that I can take care of. Pretty simple, right?
A good friend of mine said to me "I read your page, but you forgot something... Ya didn't say why you're called "Skunky"... So here's that little bit of folklore. (:
When I was attending my first semester at collge, I got my hair cut, SHORT, like in one of the pics above. (: One of my roommates came home drunk one night when I was sitting in the living room of the dorm room, and he said "Oh, look, a li'l skunky!" He started calling me that, and it kinda stuck. The people in the computer lab started calling me "skunky" to differentiate me between the guy who ran the lab, whose name was also Jeff... When I started on IRC, I used Skunky as my nick, why... well... Because... it's what all my computer friends called me, and who else would use my nick?... There, that question's answered.