Charlie

I think you are misinterpreting my post. After that first conversation, we never discussed my sexual orientation any more than we discussed hers or anyone else's; my old-fashioned parents were rather prudish about talking about sex. She never expressed disapproval of my orientation or my lifestyle. That she would have preferred me to have been heterosexual is not unusual--how many parents would have chosen for their only child to be gay? Because of that initial coming out to them, they figured that the first man with whom I lived for four years was my partner, and the second one with whom I owned a home was definitely not just a friend. My parents always welcomed my partners and had good relationships with them. When my partner and I persuaded her to come to live with us when she was 89, her main worry was that she would be interrupting our normal lives. I think my parents' behavior, particularly my father's, was conditioned by past experience. My father's favorite cousin, Fred, was quietly gay at a time when such things were never openly discussed, and he had a "friend," Charles. Although they didn't live together (Fred lived with his widowed mother most of his adult life), the family seemed to accept that Fred and Charles were a couple, and usually included Charles in family get-togethers. Nothing was ever said to me about them, but when I was a teenager I put 2+2 together and figured out what was going on, especially at Fred's funeral, when a weeping Charles was consoled by other family members, including my father. I think that became the somewhat outdated model for my parents' response to me.

"Embrace" is an interesting metaphor. Upon reflection, it occurs to me that a physical embrace between adult members of my spouse's family was a rarely observed occurrence. My mother and I did embrace lightly after long separations, but I never saw my spouse or his brothers physically touch their mother or any other family member. That is probably more of a cultural thing than an emotional one.

I came out to my parents when I was 19, and we never discussed the subject again; it was something that was simply passively understood from then on. They accepted my friends and my partners, but never inquired about the nature of the relationships. The fact that I was gay never changed my loving relationship with my parents in any way that I was aware of. I occasionally picked up hints that my mother hoped I might change some day, so she could have grandchildren, but by the time she came to live with my partner and me after he and I had lived together for 25 years, she knew her role was mother-in-law. I was an only child, so I never had to navigate the subject with siblings. As for other relations, most of them probably understood, because I was never badgered with the "So, when are you going to get a girl friend?" kind of discussions. When I finally did marry my partner in 2013, the warmest congratulations I received were from an elderly female cousin. My partner was sexually repressed until his late 20s, when he finally left the family home. His domineering father died not long after that, and his quiet mother never inquired about his personal life, though she undoubtedly understood the nature of our domestic partnership. He had three younger brothers, and the next brother (6 years younger) also wasn't out until his late 20s; he has also been in an openly gay domestic relationship for many years, and he and his partner were much more actively engaged with the mother than we were. The two younger brothers were straight, but seemed to accept the model set by their two older brothers and their mother. One brother died in his 40s, and his wife was never comfortable with her gay brothers-in-law and their partners; her children have also been distant from us. The youngest brother and his wife, and their two adult children, are the family members we both are closest to now, and we are also close to a couple of my spouse's cousins. My straight brother-in-law is actually the executor of my will as well as my spouse's. It surely helps that everyone in my spouse's family is well educated and no one is religious, except the distant sister-in-law.

I normally buy the mayo with the Best Foods label, and I have a vague sense that the consistency is slightly thinner than it used to be, but I really haven't noticed any change in the taste. That said, I only use small quantities, and almost exclusively on sandwiches, where it is overwhelmed by other flavors.

I have actually been to several restaurants with portabello mushroom burgers, which I very much like.

Adam and Steve?

I listened to an opera recording yesterday that I hadn't played in years, and now the famous arias keep playing over and over in my semi-consciousness.

I showered after gym with my classmates in high school, but I remember only two of them, because I found them sexually attractive at the time. At our 50th class reunion, I didn't recognize either one of them, and not just because they were fully clothed.

So the way to make them taste good is to greatly boost the fat and salt content!

My very first hire was on the night before Thanksgiving, because I was alone in New York and feeling both horny and depressed (my father had died a few weeks previously). I went to an agency that advertised in the pink pages of The Advocate, explained what I was looking for, and was told to go into a bedroom onsite, and someone would arrive shortly. There were a few rather effeminate young men lounging on a sofa in the office, and I hoped it would not be one of them, because they were certainly not what I had requested. I undressed and lay down on the bed, and after a half hour there was a knock on the door, and in walked a tall, dark and ruggedly handsome man in his 30s. After a perfunctory greeting, he undressed to reveal a slim but hard body and a very large cock, and we went straight to work. Within about 20 minutes we both had cum, and he quickly dressed and left. I got dressed, went back out to the office, where I paid my $65 while the boys on the sofa smirked. The whole experience reminded me of patronizing a fast food restaurant. The next day I went to a friend's home for a much more traditional Thanksgiving dinner party.

www.Dutchbear.com has a section of their "features" galleries devoted to foot fetish.

You may need to replace the fixtures to use LED bulbs.

Oh dear, that is one place I would not want to have another Mohs surgery!

5'10" and 205 lbs doesn't seem to fit those pictures.

Pecan or strawberry rhubarb when I am dining in the South, a tart apple pie up North.

Unfortunately, no one in California is going to the beach today: it is very cold, grey and windy. Even here in Palm Springs, my morning tennis match was cancelled because of the forecast of rain (though it hasn't started yet).

I have never spent a Thanksgiving totally alone, although it is often only myself and spouse. This year we were going to drive to Texas to spend it with his family, because it would be a chance to see everyone at once, but then we found out that the family members we were most eager to see were going to be somewhere else, so we decided not to expend the effort to make the long trip. When we are at home on Thanksgiving or Christmas, I do like having the excuse to go out for a big dinner at a good restaurant. The putative reasons for most major holidays don't really interest me, especially since they have become so commercialized, so I am just as happy to sit quietly at home and read or listen to music.

Except for one bequest to an institution, I intend to use up every cent while I am alive. That's why I donate to the people and organizations I care about now.

Does anyone actually pay attention to "travel indexes" like this one?

I assume you are talking about escorts, since I have no records of the hundreds of men I have had unpaid sex with over almost 60 years. escort#1: 8 times escort#2: 5 times escort#3: 4 times seven escorts: 3 times each nineteen escorts: twice each As you can see, I was mostly a "once and done" (203 times) client.

I have never spanked an escort, but I have spanked a few naughty boys who misbehaved.

I remember the days before computers when phone sex was the new thing. I tried it once, but found it a dud.

My doctor strongly recommends that his gay patients get tested for HPV.

It's a $1 Canadian coin.

852 is not a New York area code.