Touch & Goo All The Way

Part 28 of 30

There's Death In Them Thar Drawers

Do you still think there’s nothing to it, that all sex and its related acts and conditions and consequences are safe? And that somehow there’s not death in them thar drawers? And that anything and everything goes, and that all things should be accepted, and that the more the merrier, and that-- and that-- and that? If so, you've got a greater tolerance than I, and how you ever lived this long without being in league with the devil is the question of the hour.

Look at this private doctor's room. I can barely stand to look at the scene without being sick. Honestly, I’m on my third iPad, having destroyed the first two with a sledge hammer, and only hope I'm able to write the next few paragraphs without going into even more debt. I get sick easily, I’ll admit that much, but certain things send me over the edge, not in a good way, and I simply can’t continue. It’s something from childhood. I was 14 and my mom taught me the facts of life because dad worked nights, and her revulsion as to the details was so overwhelming that her shrieking stuck with me. The house was closed by the proper authorities for a month when they mistakenly thought we’d come down with the plague.

I was very impressionable, as you might've guessed. Because the overwhelming irrefutable lesson I took away from every despicable tenant of the teaching was “There’s death in them thar drawers,” whether a long and prolonged passing (footsy, puppy love, winking) or something more immediate and obviously fatal (slow dancing, parking at lover’s lane, traveling salesmen trying to scrub away the taint with stiff brushes and lye*). Those were the years when they definitely knew what death was: World War I, World War II, Korea, Friendship Rings. We lost some of our best people, virtually an entire generation, because there weren’t the safeguards we’ve come to expect now on the boundaries of a healthy friendship.

Even today, not very many guys are aware of how their bodies function. But the actual facts are that too much of anything can shut off this valve and open up these spigots, and it just happens more or less on its own when overdone. You're driving down a smooth blacktop and you're bouncing in the driver's seat. And repeated abuse simply means you're asking for it. Too much of anything has similar consequences. You eat too much pie, you’re mortgaging the house to buy more. You can get hooked on water. And with bottled water so common, I fear for the next generation, drowning, etc. And then there’s sex. Please, proceed with caution and stop before you turn on someone who refuses to be turned off!

Anything that is haveit-forming is obviously without boundaries after a certain time. Like in finances, if you over-extend yourself, you have have years of consequences, troubles with debts. Pretty soon you’re dealing with loan-sharks. Similarly, depending what the act is, you might need expensive medical care. Whereas you could even now, before it’s too late, simply zip your pants and walk away.

*Don't try it, it's deadly as rabies.

Alone, Do Not Disturb

 Part 19 of 30

There's Death In Them Thar Drawers

Who's the real men among us? Is it the foolish man always looking for a “night on the town” and experiences of the flesh up the yin-yang to the point of settling for sloppy seconds, thirds, fourths, perhaps twelfths (!) -- anything over 10 indicates a disturbance -- or the wise man going demurely to his room alone, declaring proudly that he’d rather not be disturbed?

I know the one I resonate with, Mr. Clean Living, Honest Abe, Ole Fraidy Cat, Everyone’s Friend, Nobody’s Sucka, Proudly Abstinent, Johnny Nothingseed, Chas Tity, For whom even cable TV’s a country mile too racy. Who needs something not quite as strong as the mint on the pillow. Who orders white milk and says “Make mine a double.” Who long ago forgot the only dirty joke he ever knew. Who wouldn’t know a boy from a girl without the dress or pants. Who climbs the walls just to keep in practice. Who double-locks doors against the temptations of others, not himself. Who orders vanilla pizza. And who when he craves a tight one means a chastity device.

If you want to be like me -- and there’s no one happier -- you start with the very common sense affirmation: “There’s death in them thar drawers!” Everything follows from that. Then you develop (cold turkey, so develop isn’t the right word) the ability for zero physical contact with any partner. And if you can manage that, it’s downhill from there. You’re a happy social outcast, no one wants to talk to you, etc. But there’s lot worse things. Take it from there and every temptation will be your sweetest enemy.

But of course you've got the power, you’re a sitting duck. 1) The power to resist, obviously; and, 2) the power to substitute joy for sorrow, turning your sorrow into joy, just like the Boy with the Midas Touch did with everything he touched, turning it into gold, giving him a whole new way of doing good, making gold and giving it to charity. For you now, when it’s the foolish "pride" of other guys to spring for a night on the town, then waste their night and their substance, you’re well refreshed, giving a pillow "the what-for," let’s say, while keeping your mind as pure as mother's milk.

Play your cards right and they’ll all be saying: “There’s death in them thar drawers, but that guy’s the first guy I’ve seen in like-forever whose drawers are a wonderful life all their own, no death, not a trace of death to his name, not even the barest whiff of sulfur. In fact, he walks by and smells like a garden from mythology, where everyone holds their heads high and greets one another with a smile and a hardy "How-de-do!"

The Secrets Of Abstinence

 

Part 16 of 30

There's Death In Them Thar Drawers

What are the secrets of abstinence, something more dependable than welding your zipper? That's a great question, thank you to Joey from New Orleans, the self-confessed young former horndog who sent it in. And he's right, welding's no good as long as we can still, by hook or crook, cut our pants off with a simple pair of scissors. What would work? When you’re young it sounds practically impossible. You’re so hopped up on temptations, then hormones -- stimulated or out of whack -- and of course you want to be cool with the In Crowd. But just to ask the question, like Joey did, is a giant step in the right direction!

The secrets of abstinence aren’t secrets in the same sense that you tell your friends secrets, like “I went out with Becky this last weekend and oo-la-la! Don’t tell my mom or anyone, cross your heart and hope to die.” Those are secrets you just don’t want anyone to know, although, to be honest, they're are also the hardest secrets to keep. Because your friends are just dying to tell someone, then that person will tell someone, and quickly even your mother knows, your grandmother, all the way up to the oldest grandmother in town. Joey did what?! Is Becky pregnant? You think so, with triplets!?

These are a different kind of secret, something virtually unknown because it takes discipline and determination. With some intermediary steps that are key, as unbelievable as they sound. More about that later. If you can get it together, though, it'll be great. But you have a ways to go!

The secrets of abstinence don’t primarily have anything to do with chemicals in test tubes. Although I’m sure, say, you’re in a foreign military elite corps they might fix you chemically, zapping you once and for all, then following up the original fix with progressively stronger doses to kill any last traces of virility or libido, until you’re not only limp as a noodle but cloistered and with the sexual appeal of wallpaper, But let’s say you don’t want anything that strong. You might want to save your sexuality in the possible event that you might want children someday. Farfetched but possible.

The actual secrets of abstinence are a matter of conditioning your mind and having the killer instinct to say “No! No! Hell no!” Then, in metaphorical terms, to run fleeing out the door, making your escape across hill and dale toward the horizon, kind of like what you used to see at the end of cartoons. In short, you don’t give in. You take a strong pose, you have a scowl on your face, your will is iron, you plant your feet, you’re a brick wall, impervious, impenetrable, and additionally not willing to penetrate anyone else.

In any conditioning you need to go over it again and again. Until they're about ready to throw you in the loony bin. The key is not to assume you've made it when you've lost your libido for a short time, say a month. But to make it rock solid, wearing a sign on your neck, "Stand back, 99% abstinent." Not only that but you want to condition others to want to stay away from you. So make sure you talk about your revulsion to sex with everyone you meet. As far as they know, that's all you can talk about. You accomplish two things, 1) You make the point clearly; 2) No one wants to be within a mile of you.

Then, by now you're a complete pariah with no friends and no chances for action. With no one being near you or wanting to be near you, you disappear into the wilderness, perhaps going as far north as possible. You'll be in good company, because up north, Minnesota, Canada, everyone's naturally frigid because of the weather. Even if you were to briefly lose your mind and pull down your zipper, they'd only laugh at you. Before long, they'd take pity and have it professionally welded shut. All temptation would quickly vanish.

But if you still haven't sealed the deal in your own mind, there actually are chemicals. I only mention it in a wink-wink way, never actually endorsing them. No, no, no, never! Anyway, there's this guy. An alley in a particular town, a former doctor, non-certified, and you can buy the stuff by the case, if you know the password. The password is "Grandma Slump." You didn't get it from me, OK?

Hands Up! No Sex!

No. 14 of 30

There's Death In Them Thar Drawers

Once you’ve made up your mind that, indeed, Thar’s Death in Them Thar Drawers, you’re well on your way to foregoing everything of an unpleasant sexual nature. See that, I’m just putting it on the line, a kind of test. Of my assertion and your discipline. Obviously we’re not messing around here but shunning entirely all drawers and their contents!

It is, of course, less harmful to picture in your mind the perfect arrangement within drawers, all pristine and certifiably so, according to the best standards and the closest most trustworthy presentation. But, then, if  you're not careful, that's the exact point when your fantasy life takes on a whole new layer of fantasy to deal with. You’ve taken a step in the right direction, starting with the fantasy, but the real challenge is to avoid the reality. You might choose right.

As for myself, I know the comfort is pretty good, certainly in the beginning. Let me encourage you, step back! Practice makes perfect, they say, but your lack of practice will make it very challenging. If you don't stand back, I can't be responsible. It's like the old clergyman said, "If you practice to fail you fail to practice (abstinence, cold turkey eschewing, the heroic stance with a difference)." Again, I encourage you. You want to be perfect, pure. Any morals entirely ignored are eventually forgotten. Consider the monks and nuns in religious orders who've taken a vow to a higher love. They've done it. They’ve cast off chastity belts, other devices, and even the buddy system, and are at long last perfect. Nothing shakes their resolve!

I have to say, as to myself I’m not quite there, but almost. I’m definitely not tempted by every sweet young thang. Being older, I look like a gnarly battered potato, so they’re able to run away without me even getting a good temptation on. Take it from me, the worse you look, the easier it is. Which brings up a good point of advice. If you look good, you're probably doomed. You should quit bathing, changing clothes, and even combing your hair. No one’s forcing you -- that’s my disclaimer if you object, but it’s your ideal, realizing at long last the truth I'm putting forth: There is death in them thar drawers. And you, just like me, don’t want to cross the line where death will get you!

If you are still influenced by the police, that’s good. If you’re the kind of person that hates crime and adores law enforcement -- this is the way I live -- you can picture in your mind the police watching your home day and night. (They're not really, but you’re picturing them!) You go outside, you walk up the block, minding your business. You know the police are watching so you don’t vary in your behavior, you're strictly good all the way. Then you walk home the same way. Day after day the same thing, till even the imaginary police assume you’re good enough to ignore, and very soon even the imaginary car is gone, never to be seen!

Now widen your scope to include any and all sexual temptations. Think of the worst criminals you can. Lee Harvey Oswald, John Dillinger, Bonnie and Clyde, The Penguin. Now bring your fondest temptations to the fore. You see they're hideous, like things done by criminals as sick as crap. You don’t want anything to do with them! The police are gone and you’ve still got your integrity. A job well done, they won’t be running you in for encroaching. You, my friend, are a winner!

I Choose Safety 100%

Part 1 of 30

There's Death In Them Thar Drawers

Friends, you know me: I’ve been here for years, laboring away through blood, sweat, and tears, and a good deal of anguish putting across my important teachings. I'm very happy to share and I'm glad you’ve come to trust me. I cherish that trust. And I know you, most of you by name. For years we’ve “shot the shit” over my blog, your great ideas for it, and of course you've honored me with many harrowing testimonies about how I’ve helped you, especially when times were tough. Keep putting the cream on it, the infection will go away, but it may take years.

And now as I think back and remember your real world problems, and how it was always something I’ve said that affected you deeply, leading to new understandings and a path forward, I'm glad we're still together. Recall, in turn -- because I’m a nice guy -- how I’ve claimed that you’ve also helped me, which in certain respects was true. Some of your stories, the things you’ve tried and failed at, have strengthened my natural paranoia and easily triggered in me a wise caution. And for that I’ll forever owe you a debt of gratitude, which I know I will never repay.

Among the precious memories I always have dealing with you are your hair-raising tales of sexual conquest and disappointment. For a guy nearly bald, my remaining hair always stands on end when I hear those stories! For those of you who live and love a little too close to the edge, too close for comfort, you’ve helped me double down on my natural proclivities toward scared abstinence. Every woman I see and also every man, the few who are actually good enough to “do,” I still judge not good enough to risk it. And I’ve maintained disciplined abstinence so long now that I don’t know any other way!

In this series of posts I hope to relate the lessons I’ve taken from that paranoia, which are actually comforting to me with the strong exception times when I’m wired on coffee. It’s then that I most often question my choices and motives, but after peeing maybe 25 times I’m as good as new and ready to face the day. Thanks to you, no matter how many times I behold appealing and possible paramours walk by here in the Big City -- and for some reason they’re always walking in the street and never the sidewalk -- I face absolutely no temptation. My choice of 100% safety has done me a lot of good. And by now, that choice, so strongly reinforced, is technically not even a choice but a way of life.

That will be my point of view this month in these presentations. For denying myself has done me a tremendous amount of good -- it's its own reward -- and I know, with the common fits and starts that accompany any generally disapproved path, which abstinence certainly is, it can do you good, too. I invite you to repeat my mantra if you’re serious, this most precious wisdom: “There’s death in them thar drawers.” And picture me watching these oh-so appealing people walking back and forth in the road! Yes, they look great, but, dammit, there’s death in them thar drawers! And even if they go home and change their drawers as many times as they want -- a thousand times! -- I’m no one’s judge but it’ll never be good enough for me.