the sex therapist, part 2

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read part 1 here.


a few months back, i discovered i had the logo channel--you know, lifetime for homos.  and what a trainwreck it mostly is--bad movies interspersed with endless drag reality shows, boring talk, and, god, those A-List fiascos.

but one day they featured a promo for a new reality series.  it was called bad sex, and it offered to take the viewer along as a motley crew of sluts, compulsives, late bloomers, intimacy-phobes, cheaters, romance junkies, substance abusers and/or obsessives--in other words, my people--underwent a 10-week process of intensive individual and group sex therapy.

so i DVR'd it, and when i'd racked up six or so episodes (because i like my reality TV like i like my men--lined up one after another), i sat down to watch.

each episode focused on one group member and his or her particular struggles, daily routine and interactions with the others, taking him/her from start of the process to finish, with a little epilogue at the end letting us know how each is doing now.

it was a diverse group--men, women, gay, straight--with a wide range of issues; the unifying factor was the therapist, chris donaghue.

is he a world-class therapist?  i dunno, but i liked the way he handled this group of people, challenged them and held them to a standard--plus, the fact that he's gay, practices locally and is now somewhat of a known quantity helped.

so, after giving it more than a little thought, i emailed him, asked him if he had a slot available. turns out he did, and at a time that worked for me, so we arranged for a meeting this past tuesday at two, to feel each other out.

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what am i hoping to achieve with therapy, you may ask?  well, let's talk about that.

am i looking to give up casual sex?  hell, no--at a time when so many men my age are content to sit on the couch and let their balls shrink-wrap into old age, my slutty ass still wakes up every day with morning wood, my prostate is the same size it always was, i never get up in the middle of the night to pee, and i still cum in the same gushing spurts as i did when i was twenty.  give all that up?  not on your fuckin' life.

what i want is to achieve a balance.  as noblesavage so astutely and tactfully pointed out in his comment to the previous part of this post, much of the sex in which i indulge is, and always has been, of the mediocre variety--an inevitable by-product of pursuing quantity over quality.

i wanna learn to get past the yearning for strange and focus on those partners (or maybe, god forbid, one partner) with whom i have a real connection, drop my shields, develop some intimacy and thus add a dimension to my life that has heretofore been missing--you know, that thing grownups do.

i knew it wouldn't be easy--the first thing chris would tell me to do is what he told his group to do: totally abstain from all sex for a month or so in order to clear the mental and emotional decks.  no hookups, no porn, no jacking off, no manhunt, adam or craigslist, no nothin'.

and how was i gonna fill all those sudden, empty new hours?  i hadn't a clue, but--seriously, folks--after all these months of focused introspection, i was ready to find out.

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so, filled with this resolve, i showed up at the address he gave me at the appointed hour, found the suite--no name on the directory downstairs, or the door--took a deep breath, grabbed the knob, twisted, and

nothing.  didn't budge.

ok, so he's late--it happens.  i gave him ten minutes, called, got his voicemail, left him a message--am i in the wrong place?

yeah, i was.

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ten minutes ago, i sent him the following email:

first rule of the universe:  never piss off a blogger.

update:  but wait, there's more.