Well, I had an unexpected day off from work due to weather, so I worked on my jigsaw puzzle.
The arctic vortex is sitting over much of the northern hemisphere dropped outdoor temperatures to well below 0 Fahrenheit (-20c) or worse with the wind chill twenty to -50-60f (-45c) in many areas, keeping me indoors today.
Over the holidays, my girlfriend/partner gave me a jigsaw puzzle as a gift. I don’t know whether to be ecstatic over the thoughtfulness of the gift or cringe by the vast time it’s taking to solve the jigsaw puzzle.
But first, let me backup.
Last fall, we went over to a friend’s house for dinner and conversation, catching up since we last saw each other. At that occasion, our friends had a jigsaw puzzle of their own they were working on. Interested, and with their permission, I found and placed a few pieces and thought nothing of it.
Writing my article the other day on ‘When Family Comes to Visit‘ got me thinking. In the article, I used an Addams Family photo as my feature photo which came to haunt me throughout the past couple of days. Pun intended of course.
As long as I can remember, Morticia Addams, portrayed by Carolyn Jones, has infatuated me. I might have even been in love with her, despite being a fictional character on television. What do I know, I was a kid.
Which brought me to the question, just how old was I when that show first aired. Yes, I betray my age my answering this question. The show aired for three seasons between 1964 and 1966. That made me between eight and ten years old.
I couldn’t help but notice Morticia’s svelte figure, plunging neckline, tight waist, and long legs trimmed in that octopus dress that seemed to chase her around the floor. She had the face and mannerisms that drew me in. Despite my tender age, I wanted to be Gomez Addams, going to bed with her each night. In that household, they just as easily could have been sleeping on a bed of nails, but you get the idea.
Yes, as a child, I was in love with Morticia Addams. I may be still.
Just as I loved the entire family, including Gomez, Pugsley (Pubert in the original drawings. Damn the censors of the day.), Wednesday, Grandmama, Uncle Fester, and Cousin It. The butler Lurch, played by Ted Cassidy, groaned his opinion at the slightest comment; delightful. His portrayal accurately captured the spirit of the character penned by Charles Addams. My second favorite character in the series, Thing, fascinates me even now. I have a poor imitation of him that I pull out at various times of the year and let it spontaneously run about the floor, bumping into tables and people. Let’s not forget the host of distant family members that rotated in and out of the show. I can’t think of a single episode that I didn’t like.
Then, there were their behaviors, which ‘normal’ people would think strange. I never did. From Morticia cutting the heads off the roses and displaying the thorny branches, to Gomez playing with his trains in the basement, only to blow them up, simulating a terrorist attack, to Grandmama in the kitchen cooking dinner with strange, seemingly disgusting ingredients, just further peaked my interest.
It all started with books containing the drawings originally penned by Charles Addams. For some unknown reason, my house had several volumes of the drawings, and I devoured them all. Most of his stories within the images never made it into the series or movies, but many were adapted to fit. One such was the family pouring boiling oil from the balcony to the unsuspecting visitors below as they rang the front doorbell. Or, how about the three-legged infant outfit knitted by Morticia. Then, of course, is the play on words with her name. Morticia and mortician. She seemed to relish death as a playground. Afterall, black was her favorite color, and she always wore black.
“Black, it’s all I wear, Darling!” Morticia Addams
Seeing her strapped to the rack and stretched, excited me as a child and still excites me to this day. I wanted to be the one stretching her as she moaned, “More … mon cher.” I get a delightful knot in my gut hearing her whimpering as I turn the wheel another notch.
Maybe that is where my interest in BDSM began. Strapped down on the rack, she is acting as if she is a submissive. In fact, she isn’t. Topping from bottom, she tells Gomez what to do to her; if one can be happy in that predicament. Further, it is evident that she is the dominant in their household. Everyone does what she tells them to do. Her husband, Gomez, is a pussy around her, melting whenever she grants him the slightest pleasure. Speaking French is one of her favorite behaviors to get him to break away from whatever he is doing and come to her, kissing her. Of course, he gives her his full attention, which is exactly what she wants. As I wrote, everyone in that house wants to serve and please her.
She’s a little tease. “Later Gomez, later,” she’d imply. Granting him a private moment away from everyone in their bedroom or dungeon. She would say that whenever he seemed to get carried away with kissing her arm up to the crook of her neck. One can only guess what happens in the bedroom. Just how much French does she speak while cradled in his arms? It’s gotta be hot!
They shot the original series in black and white, which in my mind, added to the mystique of the show. There was no need to show it in color. I wonder what it would have been like had they color film in those days. Would the show have been filmed as they did in the Wizard of Oz? How cool would that be if the Addams’s were in B&W and everything else was in color? An interesting concept. Later, they did colorized the series, but somehow, the color removed some of the mystique of the show.
Anjelica Huston’s portrayal of Morticia in the movies, did justice to the spirit and meaning of the character. Her bright red lips against her pale skin, wearing that black outfit, added to the validity and strength of the character. Anjelica portrayed Morticia as an even stronger, harder woman, capable of overcoming any obstacle.
However, I still fancy Carolyn Jones’s portrayal. She made Morticia a strong woman with a softer, more feminine personality. She captures me till this day … she consumes me. Talk about type casting. For me, I forever see Carolyn Jones as the quintessential Morticia Addams. Well done m’lady.
Last time I wrote about my short-term vs. long-term happiness. Another short-term happiness is coffee. I love coffee. Sixteen years ago when I rejoined the dating scene, I had my first cup of vanilla latte. While I liked coffee then, I fell in love with vanilla lattes. Today, exiting the dating scene with my long-term girlfriend, I drink several cups of coffee daily, laced with vanilla sugar-free creamer.
Which brings me to my second item in my long-term happiness list, alone time for painting, drawing, and writing. I drink coffee as I paint, draw, or write.
However, I am getting ahead of myself. Let’s back up, shall we?
As a child, I drew all sorts of spaceships and ground vehicles, making up stories as they developed. I also tended to write stories in my head that incorporated these doodles or were fresh and not related to them. I even wrote a couple down which were lost to the hands of time. As a young adult, I forgot about them and proceeded to be caught up in photography and girls. Girls turned out to be my main obsessive behaviors and I was awkward around them. It took a lot of trial and effort that lasted for decades, despite getting married and having a child in the meantime.
Sixteen years ago, I revisited my creative talents a couple of years after my marriage died and I lived alone. I loved it and I began drawing and painting in earnest. Living alone like that for all those years trained my adult mind to disappear into my creative world, feeling and living the lives of the characters I created. Later, branching out and revisiting my creative writing, I fell into the same pattern. In some ways, it was easier to disappear into my creative world as I could sit in a comfortable chair and write; all the while, my girlfriend watched her favorite shows on television.
I have to admit, I prefer my alone quiet time, apart from life and in my creative space (my office or my studio) in order to draw, write or paint. It’s important to me, no question about it, and being there makes me happy. I’m free to be myself, unbeholden to anyone or anything else. Feeling what my characters feel and experience, I can develop story lines that flow. I can feel the pain and joy, torment and pleasure that they feel. It hurts at times but I am able to leave a bit of me in my creations. As I have said before, my heart and soul is embedded in each work I create, be it visual or written. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
To be honest though, it is difficult at times to separate myself from the real world, where my girlfriend is such an important part, and spend time in my creative space where I immerse myself in my fictional realities. I can recall a numerous occasions when I had to stop and ask her to wait until I finished a particular section of the story. I didn’t want to lose track of the flow of the story, extricate myself from the pretend world in order so that I could interact with her on whatever she wanted to say. Sometimes she’d acquiesce and other times, she’d fume. I can’t say I blame her. I do the same to her.
Last November, consumed with writing my latest book, ‘The Trafficking Consortium’, she really became bothered at the time I spent writing the story and disappearing into this fictional world, even when I was sitting right next to her. I took every spare moment to write, moments that she had felt were hers. I agree. Most times they were but during November, nope. It was as if I had a barking dog scratching at the door to be let out and relieve itself. Just as you can’t tell a dog to wait, else it would piss on your carpet, I couldn’t tell the story to wait. Frankly, it hurt to keep it inside instead of being let out. So, every available moment was taken to write, and write, and write some more.
My girlfriend and I are still negotiating these rules of engagement, so that I can create undisturbed and uninterrupted with time I allocate to her. Since she is very important to me, I walk a delicate line between the two worlds. In the meantime, I keep at it. I thank the universe that lately, she is okay with me blocking out significant blocks of time to create. I wonder what she will think when she figures out that some of my best creative time is well after dark and can last into the wee hours of the morning. I don’t think it is a problem though as my body can’t take it anymore. For some reason, it insists upon a decent night’s sleep.
Thanks for reading. I hope you have a great day and a better tomorrow.
I don’t know about you, but I can tell you about me. First off, I group my happiness into two categories, short-term and long-term.
My latest bit of short-term happiness comes from my car. It is a 2017 Camaro 2LT/RS with a few other goodies to go with it. She wears a Hyper Blue Metallic dress over a hot leather interior. Yes, that’s her in the picture. Beautiful, isn’t she?
I named it Miss Molly after the song ‘Devil with a Blue Dress On’ covered by Mitch Ryder & the Detroit Wheels. With six on the floor and on-the-fly modifiable performance modes, she’s a dream to drive and lots of fun to ride.
BTW, I’ve named all my cars over the years with female names, the previous being ‘Alice,’ (nod to Elton John’s ‘All the Girls Love Alice’) a 2014 red Camaro built with similar accoutrements. Over the years, I have had or driven several Camaros and I first fell in love with the car when I bought my very first one. It was a 1974 antique white Camaro Type LT with all the trimmings, including a spoiler, and a dark saddle tan interior. I paid $5,204 for it brand new, right off the showroom floor. Too bad they still don’t go for that kind of money. Her name was Valerie and I’m not going to tell you why, though I bet you can guess why.
As for Miss Molly, I love sliding into her and giving her a ride.
However, I am most interested in writing about what makes me happy in the long-term. In no particular order, they are:
Alone time for painting, drawing, and writing.
Naked female bodies, or as I otherwise say, lover of the female form.
An extraordinary woman to share our combined interests.
Fortunately, I am at a stage in my life where I enjoy all three, which I suppose makes me elated and lucky. I feel that I am, but why do I always want more?
Let’s start with number two in the list. I first learned of my fascination with girls and their bodies back in seventh grade. That would make me about eleven at the time. It was completely unknown to me, but I now know that it was at this stage in my life where I started changing my attitudes towards girls. Of course, at that time, I didn’t understand it. A year later in eighth grade, our teacher arranged our classroom desks in a circle. A girl (Theresa), who sat across from me, would sit with her knees spread wide so that I could see right up under her dress and study the panties covering her privates. I was fascinated, yet young and very, very stupid. Thankfully, I never made a move back then. I think it was also the year that I discovered my father’s stash of nudie’s in the basement where my mother would never find them. From that moment on, I was hooked.
A year later, as a freshman in high-school, and still underage, I perused the magazine stands, trying to work up the courage to buy my first Playboy magazine. I stood there for over an hour before the proprietor of the place asked me “Well, are you going to buy something?” I chickened out and instead, bought my first book on how to sketch the human female body. This was just as good I thought and used it more to master the art of masturbation than to study and learn to draw them. Of course, by this time, I had been practicing masturbation for over two years, but now I had something in hand (forgive the pun) to refine the art. Even to this day, I frequently enjoy it. Perhaps that is why my urologist tells me that I have a perfect prostate. Does daily practice really make perfect in this case?
As the time inevitably drove on, I found myself hooked on studying a woman’s body. I amassed quite a collection of ‘girlie’ magazines, preferring the more tasteful ones over the increasing market of tasteless ones. With the advent of the internet and the freely accessible store of images, I eventually dropped all my subscriptions, which I presume many other men did as well, which in turn started the slide of the modern paper-based ‘girlie’ magazine.
My love of a woman’s body has never once wavered in the decades since. In fact, it’s only grown. No matter what the shape, style, or wrappings, I love them all. I have my favorites of course and I absolutely hate the basketballs that some women insert into their bodies. I like them real, natural, and responsive. I even started reading medical textbooks and other similar books meant to instruct rather than titillate. I learned a lot about the female body and how it works. Even to this day, I strive to learn more about them. I want to find out how they work, inside and out.
As a result, I discovered the mechanics involved with foreplay, the female orgasm, and the after care. Over the years, I practiced with various partners and when I wasn’t in a committed relationship, with several at a time. They taught and I learned. Each taught me more than any book learning could ever have, though I do feel that the books helped make for an easier experience in and out of bed.
Still, I find myself unsatiated. My fascination with a woman’s naked body grows exponentially. I want more and I want to continue studying and practicing the art. And, this is very important, I know with whom I want to share this fascination and experience the joys that come with exploring the human body.
That would be, of course, the love of my life, my girlfriend and life-partner. No, they’re not three different girls, they’re all the same girl, all wrapped up in one fabulous package. I don’t believe I can handle more than one at a time. Too exhausting as she would say. We’ve been together for thirteen years this coming May. I have learned a lot about how her mind and body works. Although … I know that I don’t know it all. I know I am missing much that I cannot learn by reading books, looking at porn, or studying medical manuals. I desire and intend to rectify that with lots of practice. Perhaps within the next thirteen years, I will become satisfied.
However, to tell you the truth, I hope I do not. I have always had an insatiable desire to learn and grow. I don’t know what I would do with myself if I lose that desire. I will always want to learn more about what makes her tick. It’s a real shame that I am growing older, and my body doesn’t work as it once did in my teens and early twenties. If only I knew then what I know now, how much more would I be able to learn? And oh, how I would practice. Afterall, doesn’t practice makes perfect?
Next time, I will expound upon my need for drawing, painting, and writing. Lastly, I will write about my need to share life and experiences with an extraordinary woman.
In the meantime, have a great day and a better tomorrow, perhaps in bed with your favorite partner(s).