Alrighty. Off to the Lure. Conditions are not optimal. It's cold and raining. But, maybe the leather gods will favor me. Found out tonight that I can't get a membership based out of the New York Sports Club at 8th Ave and 16th Street, but I have to join where I signed the membership, at Sheridan Square. Maybe I'll do a day pass at Sheridan Square, but from what I saw, it was pretty house-wifey. Sic transit gloria West Village.

Had a nice date last night. Did a bondage scene that worked pretty well. Although, I've really got to practice making square knots (left behind right, then left behind right again) upside down and sideways. That kind of threw me. The man I tied up looked beautiful bound. I would have preferred he be a little more responsive, but it was a Friday night after a long work week, and I think both of us were stifling yawns.

I'm thinking of not going to church tomorrow. I've got the GMSMA novices group from 3pm to 7pm, and then I've got a date at 8pm with Archangel. Wondering how that will go. There are a few complicating factors. Number one, I think he's looking for a Steady Eddie, and that would not be me. Number two, he's a bad kisser. He bites. Chews really. A nip here and there is fine, but he approaches my lips like beef jerky. Uh uh. Sort of amazing how many men are bad kissers. I had a boyfried who would work up a mouth full of spit and feed it to me. Again, can be hot, but not all the time. Than there was my Ex. A little voice would tell him 'Open Wide!' and he would. My tongue would go exploring in what seemed like a vast cavern. Now kissing is definitely a 'What a giftee the Laird to gi'e us, to see oorselves as others see us' (a little Rabbie Burns there) experience. But I have reason to believe that I'm a good kisser. For one thing, men who are great kissers have told me I'm a good kisser. And for another, back in highschool when we used to have drunken games of spin the bottle at parties, the girls in my group decided that I was the best kisser. Later in my high school career, I made quite a name for myself as a practioner of cunnilingus, but given the relative inexperience of the girls I was going down on, I don't really know if I can trust that. But, out of a group of about ten guys, I was the best at kissing. Even if I, too, were looking for a Steady Eddie, it would probably not be someone who kisses like a puppy with a rawhide bone. I'm also sort of suspicious because I heard this guy once say he wanted to be tied up the way men I hang with would say, "I've always thought it would be hot to be forced to give a blowjob at gunpoint." In other words, an unspoken coda of "...or at least I think I do."

Anyway, I'm sort of in a weird mood. All the topping I've been doing lately has left me sort of wanting to get my kitten punched. Always the tall order as I'm tightly wound as a watch spring.

Had a moment of missing Special Guy tonight, reflecting on the men that I've been dealing with lately. Mr. Last Night called out while I was fixing the coffee this morning, "So, are you a former priest?" (Surveying my bookshelf, no doubt.) "No," I said, "I'm sort of a former future priest."

*sigh* That was a great thing about Special Guy. Sharing a relationship with Christ with him. That must sound totally bonkers to anyone reading this who's outside that loop. But I'll put it this way. The season of Advent is upon us. The scripture readings at church will have themes of darkness awaiting the coming light, water, pilgrimage, transition, and waiting for the dawn. I'll be meditating on my longing and my incompleteness, my need for a Saviour and Redeemer. Christmas is about God breaking into our dark, despairing lives, bringing love and renewal. Now, my life isn't particularly dark nor despairing, but I can focus on that aspect of it, go to that place and let it seep into my bones. And thus prepare myself to welcome Christ. In John's Gospel, it's phrased, "And the Word became flesh, and dwelt among us." That's the King James version. I've heard it translated as 'The logos took on our human nature, and came to live in our neighborhood." God dwelling among us.

Now what's the purpose of that rift? (Particularly disappointing, no doubt, for readers who are hoping for more tales of single tails.) Just this. My faith is really important to me. And Special Guy was the only man I've ever dated with whom I could share that important part of myself. And, he'd always be available to drop to his knees and take my piss, not spilling a single drop. Yo.

I still have the Pride Day pictures of him and me in my wallet. I still have the roses he gave me.