Charlie

But there is interaction. Jerking his fellator off with his foot certainly requires dexterity!

When I looked at the ad, I said to myself, "Those photos look old." You beat me to it.

When I was ready to retire from my full-time job at 60, my partner and I did an 8000 mile driving trip around the entire country, looking at all the places that I had been researching for a couple of years as possible retirement relocations. We settled on Palm Springs for several reasons, but there were other places I really liked and was sorry to forego. Now I find myself bitching all the time about the summer heat the same way that I used to bitch about the winters in Pennsylvania, and I fantasize about what it would be like to have chosen some of those places instead. But starting life in a new place at 61 is a lot easier than doing it again years later, when one worries more about finding new friends and new support services, especially if one is dealing with medical issues. I would certainly recommend relocating if one retires fairly early and has the means and desire to live somewhere new, but no matter where you go, expect to have times when you suffer nostalgia for your old home and regrets about the new one. No place is perfect to begin with, and every place changes over time, in ways good and bad.

That's Mt. San Jacinto in the background.

We Palm Springers also talk about our "monsoon season."

"It's a dry heat" is simply a way to convince oneself that it could be worse. But believe me, day after day of temperatures in the 105-120 range under a blazing sun, with nights that only decline into the high 80s, are not that pleasant. And it isn't always very dry: the last few days here in the desert have been humid as well as hot. As I write this, it is early morning, with a temperature of 83 and 66% humidity, and no breeze at all. My ideal would be to live on the coast in the Pacific Northwest from June to October, with a condo in Palm Springs for the rest of the year.

His behavior is immature, but he is fascinating to watch as a player. He is not physically attractive to me, although I do sometimes like the geeky skinny look. However, his opponent today, Dominic Koepfer, could easily find work on rent.men.

O, Canada!!

Yes, that Bruno was truly a porn star. I sat next to him once on the ferry to Cherry Grove. Were you the guy he was traveling with?

I had problems posting last night and went to bed, but the post was still sitting in the reply box when I logged on just now, so I posted it; then I discovered that it had posted last night after all, so I went back and deleted the earlier copy.

Grazing through this thread from 2017, I am struck by the recommendations for places like Santa Rosa, which the 2018 wildfires have made one think twice about as idyllic retirement places.Last month we made a drive up through western Oregon on the I-5, and had to drive through many miles of smoke-filled air from a wildfire there. We stayed the night in Grants Pass, and could hardly breathe even indoors, although the fire was 40 miles away.

I get what hair I have left cut approximately once a month. I'm on my way to my barber now..

People often don't realize how negative they can sound, because most listeners tend to be polite in response. Friends don't let friends whine forever.

My spouse has a brother who is also gay. A close gay friend of ours has a brother who is also gay. But what is more important in their cases: nature or nurture?

He made interesting posts on lots of non-sexual subjects, so I frequently responded to them. However, I was not interested in hiring him, particularly after the IceFireWizard contretemps. I was surprised when he private messaged me that he would like to meet me at the Palm Springs Weekend one year, yet when he showed up he totally ignored me. I never did understand him.

He retired and moved to Santa Barbara many years ago. His name comes up on this site whenever certain New Yorkers wax nostalgic.

I don't think Downton Abbey had showers. The inhabitants normally took sponge baths, and only once per week they took a real bath, because it was a lot of work for the staff to heat all those pitchers of water for the tub.

I have needed AAA more often than I have needed my auto insurance company.

I could do it without trying sixty years ago, but now.......

I have seen most of these guys in the flesh, so to speak, and photo #9 could have been taken by me at Indian Wells, where most of the players practice shirtless, which is fun for the fans (that's Pablo Cuevas on the right).

I never thought of using paper towels--too stiff for wiping up. I prefer a real cotton towel.

I actually prefer synthetic fiber to cotton, and I like a soft, mushy pillow. To each his own.

If he is a lumberjack, he should know that wood is measured in cords, not chords.

Our oldest gay friend died yesterday at 88. We met him fifty years ago, and he and his partner quickly became our closest friends. We had a typical lifestyle of openly gay middle class urban professional couples in the 1970s: parties, gay bars, subscriptions to the opera, vacations on Fire Island, etc. Then the shit-storm of AIDS hit in the 1980s, and by 1987 his partner of twenty years was dead. For the next 32 years he was alone. For a few years he soldiered on, then decided he wanted a completely new life. He retired and moved across the country to a very small resort town (pop. 1000) on the Oregon coast where no one knew him. He didn't have a "gay lifestyle"--a night out was usually having a drink at the VFW hall with other vets--but he never tried to hide the fact that he was gay. He did socialize with a few other gays and lesbians he met in the area, but his closest friends were the straight neighbors whom he interacted with in local groups: the local historical society, environmentalists, a group trying to set up a charter school because there was no elementary school in town, the public library supporters, etc. He became a well-known figure in town. We ("my friends from Palm Springs") visited him almost every year, often for a couple of weeks at a time in summer, and those were the people we got to know. A group of about a dozen met every morning for breakfast at a local restaurant, and we began to join them regularly during our visits. We got married in 2013, and our friend obviously had told everyone, because the first morning after our arrival when we walked in for breakfast, everyone stood up and applauded. When his health declined from Parkinson's disease a couple of years ago, one of his neighbors took over responsibility for his care. The mayor came every morning to get him out of bed and get him dressed. For the 4th of July parade this summer, his neighbors brought him outside in a wheelchair and stationed him on the main street, where the parade frequently stopped for people who wanted to greet him. A section of the library bears his name, with a portrait of him on the wall. We all have our definitions of the "good life," but I think his was one of the best.

I have an insurance broker who finds the best insurance deals for my house and cars, and he has advised me to change companies about three times in the past fifteen years. He has never advised one of the companies with those in-car sensor thingies.