Why is a large child going to a sex club anyway?

I got new boots! I’ve been wanting a pair of kickaround shoes for quite some time, but after discovering zero pairs I liked I resolved to do something about it. See, I like clothing that’s simple. No affectations or frills, just nice simple colours that’re easy to wear with a multitude of other items. Perhaps if I knew more about how to clothing I’d veer a bit riskier, but I don’t. With the exception of inbuilt wheels, pumps to make you “jump higher” or flashing lights (all of which I owned as a kid) gimmicks ain’t really my thing. I don’t have the confidence to pull off shiny reflective panels, a deluge of saturated colours or velcro. Simple and plain means it’s harder for me to fuck up. So stuck behind the polarising motivations of not knowing what I want and knowing what I don’t want, I went for a risk-free choice. I got my first ever pair of Dr Martens.

They seem sturdy and hard-wearing. They’re leather, so I polished them up with this “dubbin” stuff to protect them from torrential downpours (in Toronto spring? It happens. Frequently). They’re polished and navy blue and they’re shitting all over my soft feet, so unused to hardship. I know leather’s supposed to be malleable, but in a fight to surrender I think my skin would call uncle first. Thankfully I sit at a desk most of the day, but still after two days of wearing them I’ve taken to adopting breaks whenever I can. My ankles haven’t broken out into blisters yet, but “yet” is a foregone conclusion. I’m not used to this. I’m used to just buying comfortable shoes that bend to my will, rather than fighting with footwear. Everyone seems to think it’ll be purgatory for the first few weeks, but once I’ve paid my dues I should have footwear that’ll last me years. I’m pretty rough on my feet gear, so we’ll see who’ll tap out first. Dear 2 week future Leon, you owe me. I’ll accept payment in the form of a future sports almanac. Grazie.

Had a mediocre night at Oasis last night. Seriously. What’s gone wrong with my life that I’ve managed to find a night at a sex club to be mediocre? The place is great, it was just a pretty unfamiliar crowd last night. Seemed really young, loud, and more unattended guys roaming around leering at people than I’m used to. The rules state that the 3rd and 4th floor are off limits to dudes wandering on their own. The 3rd and 4th floor are replete with plush vinyl lounge suites. It’s where most of the action happens. Guys can come up if they’re invited by a woman who vouches for them. It’s a great system that cuts down on the creep factor. Last night seemed a bit loose, which made me feel a little tense. When my girlfriend questioned a bunch of the guys walking around on their own, they replied that their female friend was in the other room. Then subsequently walked down the stairs. Dicks. Neither of us were really feeling it, so we just went home for snuggles.

The porn scene being filmed was pretty lovely though. Once again, 2 years ago I wouldn’t have thought my response to seeing two girls with a ball gag and a glass dildo engaged in a bit of consensual rough-housing would be “lovely”. Thing is, I have no more apt word for it. I found out later that they were an actual couple performing together, which made a ton of sense. There was an undeniable energy and connection between the two of them. As much as they would’ve been playing up for the camera, there was a natural flow to their engagement. The play was rough, but knowingly so. It was a joy to watch.

In any case, even if there wasn’t much action to be had it was fun playing in the heated pool. There was maxing and relaxing back in the hot tub, a sauna and hot showers with excellent pressure and nice smelling liquids. If I haven’t mentioned it before, I love showers. If I had unlimited hot water I might never leave. I’d waterproof a laptop/kitchen and just work live in the shower. I’d never have to wear clothes and I’d always be fresh and clean. I’d be a splishy, splashy, soap sudsy prune skinned cherub and that’d be ok. So when it comes to visiting Oasis I tend to take multiple showers with no excuse necessary. Do I want to go into the hot tub? I better shower beforehand. Going outside to do bombs into the pool? Shower time first. Do I stink of sex? What could be more pressing than a shower? No matter what I get up to there, you can bet I’ll come out smelling of roses (or tangerine/lavender, last night’s scent).


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