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Thread: Hiding in the Closet (All threads merged)

  1. #1

    Question Hiding in the Closet (Part 1)

    I'm hiding in the closet. Getting away from people who will see my face then ask me questions like, "What's wrong?"

    I don't even know how to answer such questions.

    What is wrong? Why do I wake up angry and bitter hating the person beside me wondering why the hell it is that I can't live alone; why I can't just face being alone with myself or with my kids? I'm afraid of not having someone touch me. I'm afraid of not having a significant presence in my life. Someone who I can engage with on a level other than answering whether or not I've got Air Miles. But now that my current girlfriend doesn't touch me when I need it, I am resentful. Now that she is decisive and does not do something that will benefit me only, I hate her and wonder what I am doing with someone like this. It is then that I want to punish her. There is nothing that she can do to keep me entertained, keep me consistently happy. She may cook for three hours but who cares really? I am not super ecstatic that she has spent so many hours to prepare something for me. If I'm gonna be real honest about it, I could care less. I'm hungry. I want the food. Sure I'll be sweet and put on a nice front and say, "Wow! You spent three hours preparing all of this?" But it's not like my heart is going to be filled with joy, that my breath will be taken away, that I will really turn my whole concentration towards her as I might have say during the initial courting when I might call her up because I wanted a GFE (GirlFriend Experience) that evening which in reality means to be a able to fuck repeatedly for free. Although there is the drawback of having to wake up with the person in the full light of the next day when I am very self aware and ashamed. When will I wake up and truly appreciate that which I have? When will I not focus on the too broad teeth, the sagging breasts, the rippling fat?I want my current girlfriend to announce that she has an appointment with a friend downtown but that we can meet up afterwards. I want to be surprised and exhilarated by her. I want to focus on just her. I want her moans to drown out the outside world. I want to get high with her but can't and so I resent her like a car that won't turn over. She simply resumes her typical behaviours. She is silent, submissive. She is predictable.

    There is also a language barrier. She is Japanese. She does not laugh at many of my jokes, we do not philosophize together, we have simple discussion about what to make for supper. I point to many objects, pantomime alot. We discuss renting a film for the walking the dogs, again. I try to pretend that I am alone sometimes but I can't do that in any real sense. She walked with me yesterday throughout the whole supermarket without once saying a word. She just stood a few feet away, waiting. There were many beautiful girls whose bodies I peripherally fantasised over.

    I have come under the impression that there exists a group of men out there who would love to be able to possess those really nice girls walking along the street in their short skirts, tight pants, low cut blouses revealing voluptuous breasts. But these men, I suspect, would have absolutely no idea what to do with these women if they managed to possess them. They might get nervous with their inability to adequately please these women. Seeing a prostitute then becomes very alluring. She will give YOU what YOU need. She does expect you to give her anything in return. This doesn't mean of course that she won't make token moans to make you believe that you are pleasuring her as well. But then again, the guy is not really interested in the pleasure that the woman is feeling because she is feeling it. No. He is interested in her feeling pleasure because of what this says of him. To quote my brother in law,

    "I won't give you the details, but she said I knew how to please a woman,"

    This remark was made in reference to a 28 year old acquaintance my 44 year old brother in law fucked.

  2. #2

    Hiding in the Closet (Part 2)

    A strip club with well defined parametres is also alluring to the addicted hedonist. Dancer takes bra off during first song and starts to wiggle her ass in your face towards the end of it. This way you are enticed to stay for a second, fifth, and ninth song until you either have no more money or you need get up and withdraw more from the convenient money dispensing machines located in the club which also has about a dozen video lottery terminals, another form of money dispensing machine albeit random ones. Eventually the dancer might be able to get the man hot and bothered and he might get an erection. Oooah! That's a moment right there. A highlight. Maybe the guy will suck her nipples, stick his fingers into her **** and get to feel her secretions.

    I consider women's attraction to other men as very threatening to me. More so than a man's attraction to another woman. I guess that's because I've got these prejudices which say that somehow a woman's promiscuity is more significant than a man's. That when a woman loses interest in a man it is for good. A woman can go pretty much anywhere and get herself a man. Man my grossly overweight, balding, type two diabetic sister managed to get herself a man through some telephone dating service. She used the same network to do a bit of prostitution when her funds ran low at the end of the month. Her very first client got some fantasy fulfillment by holding a knife to her throat. In considering it now, I wonder why I do not want to necessarily kill this man. Maybe I could care less what happens to this blubbery failure of a being. She physically resembles our mother. It is eerie. Like a possession of some sort. A demon which fights for control and sometimes achieves it.

    If I came from say some intensely Marxist country, it wouldn't be inappropriate to talk about the explicit ways in which the state tried to indoctrinate me as a citizen, but to evaluate how I came to acquire these dysfunctions through those freaks who were around for nearly two decades of my life elicits the all too familiar, "You can't blame your parents for everything".

    My present girlfriend is a bother because I am a repeated disappointment to her. I cannot just have a night of debauchery and maybe be miserable the next morning about say wasting too much money and perhaps lamenting, again, how much I am weak like my mother who would lie on the couch with a forty ounce bottle of gin and the perpetually tinkling glass. I am miserable because now I have begun to live a life ulterior to my girlfriend. I feel guilty. I am putting her at risk. Now I sneak away at eleven at night and come back at five in the morning. I avoid certain stares, probing questions. And all this after ten days of her living with me.

    I cannot stand that she sees me eat at night. She at first made the mistake of coming into the kitchen to stare at me, inquire about what it was that I was eating. She was simply curious. I was ashamed. I shared my food reluctantly although I just wanted to hoard and scoff all of it. I just wanted to get wasted with food despite knowing that the next morning I'd have painful abdominal cramps. The present moment is what counts. The rest is just the consequences. I scoop the rice pudding with my fingers. She will hear the cutlery. I am reminded of Dostoyevsky's ravings over his perpetually present butler. I am becoming a lunatic. My every fault is being recognised, evaluated, silently judged revealed only through her own silent stares. Soon she will make her pronouncements which will in no way be what it is that I want to hear. I will not be sweet, I will not be brave. I will wind up being a coward, a fool, a child. I once sent an abandoned tire rolling down a steep street and crashing into the barrier below.

    'Are you a child!" my current girlfriend had yelled at me that day. I told her to get the fuck away.

    At the end of a relationship you will be spun and selectively portrayed in the personal hate campaign your girlfriend will set against you. She will wonder outloud how she could have been attracted to you, that which attracted her will now be repulsive. She will debase, hurt, psychologically pummel and crush you. She will claim that women would be better without you. The truly vicious ones will make you feel like you shouldn't even be near your kids. "Your spawn," as my girlfriend at the time hissed when in a particularly vindictive mood, "will be just like you!"

    Perhaps my girlfriend at the time was right. Perhaps, inevitably, I will contaminate my children as I myself have been. Maybe with a less angry person, I would be considered an inspiration to my children. I just don't know of so many weak inspirations. A girl I fucked about eleven months ago called me up on the tenth to tell me that 'OUR' baby girl had been born January 06. I wasn't invited to the hospital and my name was not mentioned in any of the official forms. I was also not consulted on the choice of names for the baby which is Electra. Electra is defined as the Oedipus counterpart in girls who identify with the father and resent the mother. Crudely put, these girls have got penis envy. What a great name for the girl. It's just so sad how pathetically ironic it all is. The twenty one year old lost her father at five and was raised by a woman other than her schizophrenic currently 84 year old biological mother. She's been keeping information of my paternity limited to her circle of friends, family and those she is morally obligated to tell which means me who she is mad with for not being around for a pregnancy which served to give this girl a sense of purpose and direction much like her resentment and anger seem to be doing now as well. I had warned her that it would be tough (I've got an eleven year old girl and a three year old boy), that she should get an abortion and a job. Instead she got on welfare and a cheap apartment in Verdun which has air leaks the janitor has tried to correct with grey duct tape and falling sheets of plastic.

    This girl called an ad I had running in the paper offering people a creative trip to a country retreat. The country retreat was more like a country shack surrounded by earnest hunters who didn't tolerate disturbances that would frighten away prey. A walk in the woods became a very stressful activity. I'd wonder if some hunter incensed by the crunching boots on the crackling leaves would shoot me in the back of the head. This twenty one year old had wanted to know about the retreat. I arranged to meet with her. A few times later I had a threesome with her and my girlfriend at the time. Then I saw the twenty one year old alone in my girlfriend at the time's apartment. When my girlfriend at the time found out about this she flipped out. There was really no effective way of conveying to this hysterical woman that all I had wanted was an orgasm, a high, a free fuck. I wanted the hunt, the pursuit, the chase. It quickened my blood, reinvigorated my senses, made me hyper aware, caused me feelings of mirth and elation. I felt younger, my pace quickened. I was somehow more eloquent, more graceful. I could skirt dexterously through a thick downtown crowd. I was apart from everyone, riding a wave. I was better, untouchable, on top of the world. There were no thoughts of regret nor any fear of my receding hairline.

    But now, today there are these thoughts. There is the sinking feeling of impending doom. I close my curtains here too and contemplate the dysfunctions of my personality, how it is that I manage to destroy women who come to love me? How do I grow to despise their little attempts to civilize me? Of course I blame my mother for most of my psychoses. She lived the life of the fallen star who would one day rise to her rightful place in the heavens once more. She would once again be revered. It is from her that I learned to be vain. It is from her that I became a narcissist. It is from her that I acquired my belief that I will one day be a great star myself. I will be famous. And I have been in some respects. I can attract alot of attention. I have dramatically made spontaneous audience of hundreds. I am a sick man. I am an addict. I am addicted to life. I am addicted to fearing life. I must have these great sensations in order to suppress the terrible thoughts of wrinkles, of prostate cancer, of lost vigour, strength. Of growing old. Of slobbering all over myself. Of shitting in my pants. Of dying in some anonymous hall way beneath steadily humming neon ballasts. Hunched strangers walk past dressed in rumpled sweaters and drab overcoats. Invalids with sagging jowls, dim eye balls, and thick deaf ears scrape by with chromed walkers pushed with fat jiggly arms and bent fingers which once passionately caressed an ass, a pair of tits only to be ultimately reduced to this. And hiding in the closet ain't making it any better. I just don't know how to... be.

  3. #3
    Registered User
    Join Date
    Oct 2003
    ...and those NFL finals on TV are reaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaallly exciting!!


  4. #4
    Registered User
    Join Date
    Nov 2003
    After reading your 2-part testimony, I feel like I am a therapist who just read the diary of a client. I wish I was a therapist or psychologist or something in order to be able to offer any constructive advice.
    You obviously have a lot on your plate right now. The best advice I can offer is to find a good therapist, who you feel comfortable with, and learn some new coping skills; since it is somewhat obvious that your current coping skills, which probably were effective enough in the past, are lo longer enough for you to deal with your current stresses. I would even suggest that you print a copy of your rant and give it to the therapist so they can take the time to read it and get a better idea of what you are feeling, and how you are currently dealing with it.

    They will forget what you said,
    they will forget what you did,
    but they will never forget the way you made them feel.

  5. #5
    Veteran of Misadventures
    Join Date
    Jul 2003
    I agree with Ronnie, print the posts out and take them to a professional psychiatrist or therapist. You are in a downward spiral and you need professional help, you don't need us.

  6. #6

    Cultural Differences

    The first thing you need to do, for your own mental health, is to ditch the albatross. It is clear that you can never have anything in common or be able to communicate when she is from a totally different culture, language, background. Without language, you are nothing. It is one thing to go to Asia, bang a whore, and have a laugh...quite another to actually live 24/7 with one. It is very hard to live with anyone full-time, be it a lover, a relative, a only compound the problems exponentially by starting off with an inpenetrable gulf of deep differences. Look at how many baseball players have had difficulties adjusting to moving to Japan...Japan is a very insular society, it does not welcome foreigners inside their cultural mores, only for business niceties, so, you are trying to break through a multi-century brickwall. Give up that fight for your own good, and you will see your self-esteem begin to grow which time you can take those first few tentative steps by making a proposition to a beautiful woman.

  7. #7

    Talking Working Past the Pain

    The Skillful Samurai Unsheathes His Sword Seldomly

    I was thinking of this little bit of alliteration on my way back from court. There were piles of opportunities to visit a pile of massage parlours. I was dead in the middle of old Montreal making my way back via the 720, exiting on St. Antoine near Atwater where in that area I can to get a massage from no less than six different places. I was really tempted. I was on one of those highs and was consequently feeling horny. Yesterday I had been on a real low. But today I was buoyant again. I was filled with self confidence. I even managed to flirt with a slightly plump yet sexy lawyer at the court house who I made her laugh when entering my plea.

    I went to bed a at one last night. My Japanese girlfriend started to kiss my back. I wasn't really all that interested in getting sensual with her. Unless I've got a rock hard boner to start with I don't really approach her. We are sometimes awkward with each other and I lose my erection. I happen to be her first 'Westerner'. I take a bit of pride in this. Her only point of comparison is other Japanese men who I've been told have very small penises. Her first boyfriend had a very small one even by Japanese standards, but she didn't know that at the time. I don't want her thinking I am impotent. I want her to remain with the impression that mine was the biggest cock she's ever had. She kisses me some more. I pull down her underwear, she is compliant. There is the thick smell of blood. My dick gets harder. I stick it into her sopping ****. I feel the warmth of the blood all along my penis.

    I think it's important to recognise that as men we have certain needs. Man I have eaten this girl out for over twenty minutes, so when I want a lustful fuck I deserve it and I shouldn't feel like a pig. It is also important to recognise that the girl has them to. If she ain't satisfied she'll start looking at other guys. Discretely. Then when she's ready she'll do it. And you will not have suspected a thing. The trick is to make your girlfriend feel like you are rewarding her with your dick. Make her feel that this is the way she can assuage your bad mood. Reproach her when she sucks, teach her how to fuck.

    My Japanese girlfriend and I have been fighting alot recently. I think its due to the guilt I was feeling about getting a prostitute on Ontario street just west of Papineau last week. She was a crack head and had some front teeth missing which I only noticed once in the motel room. Her breath was atrocious and the one remaining incisor was black along the perimetre. It took me three quarters of a fat joint to work myself up to letting her suck me off. I really didn't want to waste the $25.00 I paid for the room and the $30.00 for the blow job.

    The trouble is that this girl had stripped and pissed on the toilet bowl in front of me. Her body was in really bad shape despite only being thirty. Crack really does a number on your appearance. I told her that I could get her in shape within two months. She just needed to lose a little weight but focus mostly on toning. She said she'd never have me as a boyfriend because I wasn't able to just say nice things. I told her that I could use bullshit but that she'd really not be benefiting from an honest assessment of herself through the eyes of someone more or less objective to her situation. She scraped out some crack residue with a razor from inside of her pipe and smoked it. She would not let me do any. I asked if she was going to slash my wrists. She said I made some interesting associations.Past her haze and her cravings she bears witness to a very different stream of awareness and consciousness and soon I'd be sticking my dick deep into her gullet. She told me she had been reviewed on CanBest as giving a wicked blowjob.That's when I started warming up to the idea of getting the blow job and told her I was ready.

    I got on my knees on the bed with my clothes on, she had dressed again but started to remove her top. I asked her not to.

    "You think I'm disgusting," she says.

    "You already know how I feel Julie."

    "You sure you don't want to see these wonderful breasts?"

    "Do you want to use my condom?"

    "We'll use mine," she says.

    She tells me to hold her long brown hair. I absolutely love to hold a girl's hair. It serves as a great means of domination. Hair becomes much like a chain shackled at the scalp through the roots in the girl's head. She then gets started. I unzip only my pants. She pulls my underwear down to expose my balls which she licks. I really hated that. I really didn't want to get genital herpes from this girl who admitted to giving bare back blow jobs to completion. When she got started on my shaft though she immediately went deep way past the esophagus. I really like the feeling when the tip of my dick pushes past that point. That's when I know I can transcend alot of shit: her stench, my sleep deprivation, contracting STD's. I grab the back of her head and push further down into her throat. She doesn't gag yet. I go further. She gags. I pull back. Towards the end I really did bang her up a bit. I wrapped her hair around my hand and pulled real hard. I rammed her hard. She was on the verge of vomiting. I wanted her to vomit. That's when says,

    "Lache ma tete," while gasping for air. My dick had suffocated her. I was on the verge of coming. I hold my dick hard and keep the momentum going.

    "Put your mouth on it," I say. She hesitates.

    "Put it in your mouth!" I shout.

    She takes my dick in her mouth and I come hard. The night has been a success. Or so I think.

    It is afterwards that I must explain to myself why it is that I sought this experience. Is it because I do not want to treat my Japanese girlfriend like a sexual object. She will too readily comply. I will destroy her self esteem. She has identified with me, latched on to me emotionally. A little too intensely.

    I resolve to forego the massage parlour. I will go home and fuck my Japanese girlfriend like a madman. She will bear the full brunt of my horniness. Then I feel guilty. I must spare her the madness of my perversity. I do not want to objectify her and make her sexually submissive. But I was horny when I got home and she had on her little brown sweater buttoned only at the top. I lifted her sweater and stroked her nipples through the lace bra. I pulled down my long johns and put my solid dick in between her tits.

    She lowers her head and takes my dick deeply into her mouth. I feel the tip going past that barrier. I get even harder. I tell her to take her pants off and I put her on the dining table. I squeeze my cock hard at the base to fill the head with more blood. She winces as I penetrate her. I have told her that fucking is painful and that she should simply put up with it. After I finished pounding her sopping pussy, I picked her up and laid her on the couch. She is learning to work past the pain.


    She has been cooking for the last two hours. She has chopped all the vegetables real small and made a really tasty thick pasty sauce. It is her first attempt at this. The celery and carrots are a little crunchy but it is okay, it is funny and tasty. I will take her out and get some pastries and beer with her later. I will watch a movie and we will massage each other. She took me into her today and so through this act of fornication we have been reunited. For how long will this reprieve from my libido last? Until the next girl in a tight high skirt wiggling her ass past me. For now I will try and have a GFE with my GF.


    It's a couple of hours later. I just had a conversation with a guy at a nanny recruitment centre. He was really knowledgeable with Canadian immigration policies. He informed me that there's no way, not even through marriage, that my Japanese girlfriend could stay here. So in five months her student work visa will expire and she will no longer be able to legally work. I recommended that we start a Japanese massage parlour. She started crying. She is afraid I will be put in jail. She's so cute.

  8. #8
    Registered User
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    Oct 2004
    Word of caution.... if you do love your girlfriend that much, you wouldnt want her to contract a disease you may get from a crack whore would you?

  9. #9
    Registered User
    Join Date
    Feb 2004
    Ladies' backyard
    That is called self-destruction.....and destruction of others.....when you do not love yourself, you can't love others...

    The problem is that this story, if true, reveals some sexual deprivation that can lead to sexual assaults. This Mr. Lawyer know it very well. And giving STD to another, while knowing having it, is an assault by law.

    I am a little straight with this story...but if this one is true, there is a need a serious cautions with him.

  10. #10

    Celebration of Misery

    Today I kicked my Japanese girlfriend out.

    She told me last night that she'd like to sleep over at a friend's for a couple of days. She finds that we have been fighting too much. She's nervous around me, always hyper vigilant wondering what my moods will be like. Will I punch the wall, slap myself in the face repeatedly, fuck her savagely, avoid her all day, or be fun, charming, loving and sweet?

    When her mind does manage to turn to herself she recognizes that she is very scared. She's running out of money, she has to leave in a few months. I tried to help her but I question my motivation for doing so. Was I not doing these things to ultimately benefit me? She'd regard me as some really helpful person and admire me and by extension my cock. Her gratitude would then reveal itself in the way she'd slurp my balls. Is that my only motivation though? Don't I want to see her enjoy life too? Should I not be filled with as much joy for her as I am with my son when he flings his first snowball ever? I believe I am detaching myself from women, people, intimacy with adults. They have too many hang-ups.

    I love my dogs. I can neglect them and still they will love me.

    My Japanese girlfriend will be staying with another Japanese woman on Guy near Sherbrooke until she decides to get another room or return to Japan. I sent her away because I knew that two days were not enough for her to resolve the fundamental crises of life. She really has no idea what the hell she wants to do with her life much like me so I don't need more of that around.

    My ex-wife told me that the best thing for this girl was for her to be amongst other Japanese women and to be allowed to flourish without the pressure of a demented boyfriend. I actually sacrificed myself I think. Now there is no one to help and expect something in return from. What is all of this self awareness of my manipulative ways supposed to accomplish other than making me want to do something self destructive?

    I want to get away from my self. Maybe I do not really know who I am. To be self aware means to know more than just my bad habits. I guess I used to like seeing the masseuses because then I'd have someone with whom I could have a really exciting experience. I mean. Imagine if someone always had a surprise for you and it was something that you really liked, wouldn't you feel like this person was always stimulating you in some way? But even that would eventually become stale. Whereas the woman once could entice with her presence only now her presence is a curse.

    I need diversity, I need stimulation, I need excitement. I'm going to be dead some day God damn it!

    Why don't I save up and take sky diving courses then? Imagine the really sexy girls I could pick up if I told them I sky dived. Why do I limit myself to a woman whose nipple have been sucked previously by another slobbering pervert? I am not trying to discourage anyone from seeking out the services of prostitutes, all I'm saying is that it doesn't seem to be working out for me. It's an old problem I'm having difficulties shaking off and the ones that tend to suffer are my girlfriends (let's not even get into my kids). Where then is true intimacy to be found if one of the truest intimate acts has been commodified? What is there to truly look forward to in a girlfriend / wife when all that she can offer sexually can be bought elsewhere and be better?

    Now when you don't have allot of self esteem and your life style is such that one could easily make the argument that you are a loser, it gets a little tough to sustain the tough guy, I'm good looking type of attitude. What happens when you're not making the six digit salary, when you aren't driving your dream car, when you turn into a slob, gain forty extra pounds, smell like your father, have brown streaks in your underwear, your toenails yellow, your face sags, you look more often tired than revived, your body aches, your neck gets stiff, the headaches get more intense, your diet stinks and so do your discharges? Do you reach for the time tested solution of having sex solo or with a disgusting 'crack whore' from the East-End?

    Yesterday my Japanese girlfriend wanted to sleep next to me. She ran her hand along my stomach, she massaged my palm. She was afraid she was losing me. She regretted wanting to stay at her friend's. She said she would not go. I got mad. It was precisely this inability to remain committed to what she knew was best for her which troubled me. I knew that she was losing her SELF to my SELF.

    Self-ish / Self-less / Self- loathe / Self-serve. Self.

    Am I really worth a girl sacrificing her self for? Who the fuck am I to be keeping a woman in here, in my house listening solely to my music, to my movies? Who is she? Why have I not bothered to really discover her? Perhaps I am too obsessed by my self. How then to get un-obsessed? What exercises do I do? Yoga, Buddhist meditation? Why was I so extreme? Because she took initiative? Because I interpreted her leaving as the familiar slide in the relationship? And who was to blame for this slide? Did I not just use her to make splitting up with my psychotic girlfriend easier? Yes. But I cannot keep using this woman. Why not? Is it immoral? Does she not gain something from being completely obsessed by me? No. It irritates me. I feel her presence and cannot stand having my zone interrupted. I have told her to get a job. I have told her to see friends. But if she does too much of any one of those two things I get irritated. I feel neglected.

    Now I am imagining a woman in a tight dress. I am imagining it being summer. I think I will masturbate again soon. Yep. My dick is getting erect. I guess it's the stress. But I have to build on my successes. If I go for a massage I will get even more stressed by my dwindling funds. But then I will get stressed about not having sex and I will drive around for many hours and look at the girls. Christ! When and how will it end? Do I even want it to end? Perhaps I should assign myself fuck days. Maybe I should not fuck when I am sad because I am then using the act to elevate me. Maybe when I am sad I should not have an orgasm. Okay.

    Also, maybe when I am with a woman in a relationship I should not take the 'security' of the relationship, due to say having a home or a child with this woman, for granted and have sex with other women. This is exactly what I did in my second marriage. The Italian woman was so nice. She cooked, she cleaned, she folded underwear. She was dutiful. It was great. I used her in my moving company and she worked for free and I mean long hours, like fifty a week, sometimes more. And what was I doing? I was going off with other women, especially that psychotic one whose been around for eighteen years and in everyone of my relationships. To date she's had three miscarriages, and one abortion with my seed. Christ! People used to look to entrails and stool to divine the future and I have completely ignored the meaning in these symbolic dead fetuses. A Roman Polanski I am not (think Rosemary's Baby).

    So my dick is no longer hard. The moment has passed. I think these might then be good guidelines to follow. No orgasms when sad. But isn't an orgasm a celebration of life? Yes. And a celebration of life cannot be commodified.
    Last edited by Viagra; 01-18-2005 at 04:04 PM. Reason: Misspelled Polanski's name

  11. #11
    does this means the end of your posts....?

    it would be sad. really.


  12. #12
    Registered User
    Join Date
    Aug 2004
    Montreal, QC
    It would actually be an amazing delivery for all of us....finally!!

  13. #13
    Look, he can write whatever he wants. After all, aren't we a family here?

    My only qualm is that this thread should have gone in the LOUNGE section.

    But besides that, I hope i can turn to this family for personal help or advice (or just to rant) if I ever needed it.

  14. #14
    Mod 2
    Viagra, Please reread the board's rules and posting guidelines, more specifically the following points:

    1) Permitted Activities:
    ii) Discuss on any subject that may be of interest to the community.

    2) Posting
    ii) Post in the correct Section (Lounge, Escort411, Outcall, Incall, Strip-Club etc).
    iii) If a thread already exist related to your topic, please post there or, if more than one exists, post in the most recent or relevant one.

    As a result, please consider this as a first warning:

    a) I merged all your separate threads together. Stop creating new threads everytime you have something to say in the same line as this. I have other things to do. Please continue to post in THIS ONE.
    b) I moved this thread to the Lounge, as it has nothing to do with massages. Please stop posting unrelated stuff in the massage section.

    I am still not sure if this thread is of any interest to the community.

    Thank you

    Last edited by Mod 2; 01-18-2005 at 07:54 PM.

  15. #15
    can i use the term "attention whore"....?

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