You Want Me to Do What to Your What?

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david-carradine-1.jpgYes, that's right, I'm back.  I'm in full-on confessional column mode because I know the world is dying for another glimpse into the bedroom and brain of little old Nate Green.  And you're in for a special treat today because I've got something special.  Get ready for a wild tale full of intrigue and self-deprecation, sexual adventure and general emasculation.  What else would you expect from me?  I know, right.  I've really got my niche nailed down.  At least that's one thing I'm nailing.

I'm where you might picture me: sitting at my desk in the wee hours of the day.  I haven't been able to sleep for the past couple of nights and instead of milling around my apartment for a few hours and killing time by watching SportsCenter over and over in the morning, I've been coming in to the office and sitting in the dark, like I do.  You see, it all started the other night during that crazy-ass lightening storm that occurred at three in the goddamn morning.  I snapped awake to the sound of a crack of thunder and suddenly the whole room was lit up like the stage at the Super Bowl Halftime show.  I could see my freaking shadow and everything.  That storm was the exclamation point on the craziest night of my whole damn life, a night I've yet to really process and certainly nowhere near recovering from.  You see, when that thunder woke me up, I wasn't in my bedroom.  And I wasn't alone.Things obviously didn't go that badly because she didn't kick me out of her room in a frothing rage.  But things didn't go that well either.  Because I couldn't do the one thing that she wanted me to do, the thing that would guarantee her to get off.  We were in the heat of things when she asked me to do it, and I nearly shit her bed when she said it.  As much as I tried to get myself to man up and do it, I couldn't.  I was raised not to lay hands on a woman, and as much as I wanted to pleasure this special lady, I simply couldn't choke her.

I should have known what was up when she was being super aggressive and basically picked me up, that never happens.  And of course, erotic asphyxiation is all the rage right now.  I think my reluctance to grab that girl by the throat is totally backed up by the untimely demise of David Carradine.  Is it really all that shocking that this little proclivity would lead to his real death and that it wouldn't turn out to be the "Five Point Finger Fuck of Death" or whatever bullshit Tarantino devised for Kill Bill?  But I don't want to be too judgmental; I mean, whatever gets you through the night, right?  So far as I know, only David Carradine, Michael Hutchence and a character from the first or second season of Six Feet Under have died from erotic asphyxiation, and those guys were doing it to themselves, obviously upping the chance for disaster.  It's not the potential for death that bugged me so much and held me back from grabbing her by the neck and gently applying pressure until she came like the torrential downpour that followed that lightening storm the other night. It's the realization that I wasn't man enough to choke her.

I know this seems awfully idiosyncratic and it probably is.  Men who beat on their women don't really inspire a ton of respect; they're more properly thought of as childish, aggressive jackasses than men.  But I totally wimped out like a bitch when she wanted me to throttle her in flagrante delicto and that can't be the definition of a man either.  So what am I: man or mouse?

It's this question I've been wrestling with for the past couple of days.  I don't want to be the kind of person who acts in a brutish manner but I also don't want to be the kind of person who can't, or won't, do what his partner asks of him.  There's a very fine line here and I'm wondering if I might just need another crack at it to truly know the truth about myself, and my willingness to subjugate everything I think I know when in the sack with a kinky freak.  Unfortunately, it doesn't seem like this particular minx will ever call me back, so I guess I'm going to have to wait for lightening to strike once again.


  • 1

    Thanks for sharing, Nate. That whole episode must have been hard for you, you being from Canada and possessing a gentle Canadian demeanor. But you got through it and lived to tell, and we are very grateful for that.

  • 2

    Thanks for sharing, Nate. This makes my one night stand requests to be spoonfed Apple Jacks while doing Mad Libs and listening to the Magnetic Fields seem somewhat less threatening.

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