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3… 2… 1… BLAST-OFF! The Countdown to iBLASTinside’s Birthday (1 of 3)

3-2-1-blast-off

Forty-Five Random List…

…for Mark Bentson’s Forty-Fifth Year (Part 1 of 3)

To mark this moderately important milestone in my lifetime — halfway to 90, which means I’m most certainly over the hill and speeding toward a furnace to turn me into ashes that will then be scattered here, there and everywhere to celebrate the clandestine debauchery of my life. But let’s focus on the here and now, the hedonism of the moment. Here begins part one of three of my Forty-Five Random List.

45. Fuck a porn star

I can’t begin a list without the wish that continues on despite repeated tries. I want to fuck a porn star. Please. This past year has seen promising moments with opportunities that has come close including promises from two, rather significant big-name porn stars.

One with whom volunteered to take my load but fell in love and moved off to be with his new boyfriend. The other I bribed and he took the gifts and ran off to be with his new boyfriend with whom he’d just fallen in love.

Now  that I’m traveling to Northern California and the San Francisco Bay area, I’d hoped that perhaps I might just luck up on an actor or two. Nonesuch. So my desire goes on.

44. Get Medallion status on Delta

Okay, what an odd goal, but I’ve been flying so much and I’m stuck in steerage with everyone else. And so far, I have yet to sit by anyone hot or even a decent looking straight guy. Every plane ride seems to be another female, another old sixtysomething retiree with his golden-age wife, a mother with her four-year-old or a school mar’m. Why can’t I get one hottie?

I doubt Medallion status will help much with that, but it will at least help assure I get a little more legroom and a possible upgrade or two. Long-time readers will know I’ve been hoping for this for a while. I will achieve it (for sure) this year. But if anyone has the inside track on helping me get upgrades, show me some love!

43. More fucking on travel

As simple as that. I attempted something in Las Vegas that didn’t work: I solicited someone to be my regular cum dump. And while I had no trouble finding ass to fuck, sometimes the pursuit of ass gets boring. Good thing Vegas brought a stock of tourists and locals worth breeding (and even enough with whom to have an orgy).

Yet, still, I crave an easy come-over-bend-over-and-be-bred kind of guy. I’ve got a couple of men who I can contact if I’m ever in a lurch or a dry spell while at home. I’d like that on the road.

42. & 41.  Yoga & Weight Loss

I am not someone to goes to the local Y and signs up for a class. I don’t hit any old gym. Teaching me anything physical requires a special talent and I seek out people. Like my trainer late last year (as seen pictured here). I expect people helping me to be in shape themselves (yes, I’ve seen trainers who need a bit of help).

My former trainer was great, if not tragically straight. And despite some of my own misgivings, I signed up with him. But I have a few things that just do not work for me. First, he must keep me motivated. He did so, to a certain extent. But he never really followed through on additional promises to keep on me outside the gym (for which I paid him extra, I might add).

Second, he’s got to be the example I look up to every day. And when he started posting unhealthy things to his Facebook, I had to take a step back some. He stopped motivating me. It all came crashing down.

And my weight came up after losing so much.

But here’s what I learned about myself. The nutritional diet he put me on required a lot of psychological fortitude, which I somehow managed. And while my body didn’t always obey, it did provide some form of willingness to begin getting in shape. Shape which I have not lost completely.

And so, with both those, I want to step more into a yoga situation. But I want someone to work with me individually to set me on the right course for success. I’ve become convinced of the mind-body connection…

40. Stop chewing my nails

I know. Bad habit. I’d just about stopped it but some bumpy flights of late got me started again. I guess a nervous habit. Or I’m just nervous.

39. Upgrade my iPad

Have you seen the Retina display on the new one? (Although it’s not called an iPad 3, that’s basically what it is.) It makes my iPad, bought the first day of the original launch look like a low-resolution, piece of crap.

38. Massage me everywhere

When I lived in Washington, D.C., I had the hottest Filipino with the best muscle body who would come over once or twice a week and work out the kinks. Then in Georgia, I found a spa that had a lovely little Asian boy who helped me out too. Those two both gave great massages and both provided happy endings.

Love a good massage with a good happy endings.

Then I ended up with a great massage therapist but he was a straight Latino. Although very cool with the whole Gay thing, he wouldn’t bother to touch my cock and, no matter how much money was promised and how much goading. Nonetheless, I kept going to him and enjoying the massage part. It was therapeutic.

But he’s moved out of the area and now I’m without a decent massage therapist.

I’ve been looking and trying out a few people. Not a lot of luck so far. I’ve had decent results but nothing remarkable.

Moreover, when I visit other cities, am finding it very difficult to get therapists there to respond and be accommodating.

If you’re a therapist in the San Francisco Bay or Atlanta area (and you’re good), please let me know. Happy endings appreciated but not required. However, I do prefer good-looking non-smokers.

37. Better shoes

I need some. Hard to find. Right now I’m still in two-year-old Old Navy top-siders and six-year-old Rockport sandals.

36. “Read” more for work

Notice I put “read” in quotation marks, as my long commute to work allows me a lot of time to listen to books. Unfortunately, since getting my new car, I’ve been listening to Sirius XM more than anything (my favorite channel is Raw Dog comedy, Channel 99; coincidental it’s got “raw” in the title, huh?). I should be listening to more books.

35. Speaking of Sirius XM, please stop Derek & Romaine

They’re on OutQ, the Gay channel. They attempt to dispense advice to the masses about sex and gay life but neither of whom is qualified in any way, shape or form. Derek is just a prude. And he’s an asshole prude. Sometimes he’s so rude to people I’m amazed anyone bothers to listen to him. Both of them wouldn’t bother to even entertain the concept that barebacking is truly an option. I’ve even heard Romaine have a fit about men with hairy asses being horrible.

Additionally, they barely plan a show and talk about their personal lives as if anyone really gives a shit.

Please, they’ve been on the air too long. Get that shit off the air.

34. Going strong on no jacking off

Every load I’ve shot in 2012 has gone in someone. It’s gone in an ass or a mouth (and it’s rare for it to be a mouth).

33. It’s been 420 for me, finally

In my list of 43 Arbitrary Things when I turned 43, number 21 mentions I’ve never tried the infamous 420. Pot. Mary Jane. Wacky tabacky. Weed. And because of my opposition to smoking, I’ve never smoked pot. I still have never smoked pot. With research and some experimentation (hint to the right), I finally got to discover what the big deal was all about.

It wasn’t a big deal.

Made me even more convinced that (sorry for a little politics) that the stuff should be legalized.

32. More rollercoasters and amusement parks

It’s already been a good year for it. I want to make it a great year.

31. Did you read this?

Why haven’t my readers been commenting? I’m still getting almost 1,200 visitors a day but lately, you fuckers have been quiet. Speak up!

Don’t miss the next part… 30 to 16…. tomorrow.

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April 29, 2012 3 Comments MarkBentson Short URL
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A Dozen Resolutions for 2012 & A Dozen Reasons Why 2012 Will Be Better Than 2011

2012

12. Porn Star Fuck…

Surely 2012 is finally my year to get some porn star ass, don’t you think? Hint hint porn stars. You know who you are. And I know you read me. So offer it up to me.

11. Meet My Meat

Looks like I’ll be doing my share of traveling in 2012, not just to Northern California. While I’m around, I want so make sure some of the people out there who read me (and who I read or follow) meet my meat. No particular number. Just a goal to make sure that I spread my DNA wide and far.

10. More Asian Invasions

I love Asians. Well, let me be specific. I love fucking Asians. I want to fuck more Asians. My goal is to make that happen. More. A lot more.

Here’s the thing… if I’m lucky, I could get resolution 12, 11 and 10 in one shot. But I doubt it. I only know one half-Asian porn star. But I’d fuck and breed him twice to make it count.

9. Shape It Up

I’ve been doing good but I need to get started back at the gym. I will. More work to do. More muscles to gain.

8. Something Kinky

I need to shock myself. If anyone can come up with something that will shock me (and in the process, turn me the fuck on), hit me up.

7. Tattoo Time

I know, I promised myself last year. But the tattoo I want requires a good artist. Okay, not just a good artist. A great one. And someone with that talent isn’t just someone you find at the corner shot. You have to find the right one. I hope I find him or her this year.

6. Curb the Curmudgeon

Perhaps a reader has a point. I know there’s exceptions to every rule. Fuck, I know straight men take cock. I need to start believing more men. So maybe they will drive to meet me.

Interestingly enough, I like to consider this part of myself a pragmatist and not a curmudgeon or pessimist. I’ve been told I was a pessimist, most recently by an 18-year-old who really, really was just curious to know my age. This Grindr cutie claimed he would still very much be interested in me, no matter my age. Of course, the oldest man he’d ever dated was two years my youth — and a doctor.

We’ll see if he follows through in the new year. Okay, so in curbing… I HOPE he follows through…

5. Roll on them Rollercoasters

I have a passion for rollercoasters but the past few years has kept me away from amusement parks. Not this year. I’m hitting them and going for a ride.

4. Occupy the Obvious

The Occupy moment had its moment and, at times, my support. Not always. As the movement said they were the 99 percent, I suggested that I was the 9 percent — the 9 percent unemployed who simply couldn’t find a job.

That story goes further. I could find the most basic work. Even Target or other hourly positions turned me down. I just wanted a chance. I finally got that chance and got a job. I got two job offers.

However, one job offer came with stipulations. It came with a three-month trial to determine whether or not I was “compatible with the culture” in the company.

With both companies, I’d been forth coming about my sexuality — not in an obvious way, but inquiring about support of same-gender partner benefits. One answered my questions professionally and neutrally. The other — well — needed time to figure it out. Then questioned whether I would “fit with the corporate culture.”

This was later in the process, so as not to look homophobic. But it didn’t fool me.

Fuck fit.

I didn’t occupy the job, especially when I left them know that I recognized their homophobia, no matter the subtly. I called them out on it.

They backpedaled and tried to get me to take the job, but emotionally, I just knew I couldn’t commit myself there. Which leads me to my next resolution.

rage3. Punch Back

Look, as much as we like to suggest, IT DOES NOT GET BETTER. We just learn to deal with the crap better. And after the last couple of years, with “FAG” carved into the side of my car, my shit stolen, bullied at work and eventually fired by a homophobic boss and the hatred I confront from the Gay community, I’m done being Mr. Passive.

I’m punching first, asking for clarification later.

2. Mentoring a Man-Boy

I have hoped for a while to find someone worthy of learning what I know. Occasionally I find someone who has promise and I begin speaking with him. But as with most of these young’uns, they fall off the planet when it means a little work. This includes the Seattle bottom who’s cheating on his boyfriend and learning to be a cum-loving slut, the Midwest Asian frat boy who thinks he’s not all that hot but he breaks all the molds with a big cock and the big-dicked black Florida Military boy who keeps skipping around on me like a fairy.

If you’re worthy and will truly dedicated yourself without being a flake, hit me up: iblastinside@gmail.com. And include a fucking photo.

1. Connect

Vague as it sounds, I know what it means. I have been sans a best bud, a wing man, a co-conspirator for a little more than a year now. I have good friends but when friendship is tested, few pass the test. I wouldn’t mind it if someone just starts out and we don’t test anything other than whether we can get a good drink on together and travel some.

I’ve even had buds who have been straight and with whom I’ve never fucked. Used to go with one to pro hockey games, getting drunk before and after. He’d check the girls, I’d check the guys and we’d fucking scream our heads off at the checks on the ice.

Miss that.

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January 2, 2012 MarkBentson Short URL
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2011: Bareback Brotherhood & Other Raw Revolutions

365

How to quantify 2011? For me personally, I find it a reprehensible year, kicked off by being fired for being gay and spending almost the entire year looking for work. But when it comes to barebacking, this community I so love (and fuck), we made tremendous strides.

#1, more than anything else, we are visible.

Not that we were not visible before 2011. But our visibility prior to 2011 happened to be via porn and hook-up sites. And, quite frankly, that might be our goals. However, it’s beginning to blossom well beyond that. Evidence?

  • Of course we can point at the Bareback Brotherhood or #BBBH. I’m a proud co-founder along with my good friends @GaPozAthens and @CH4SUK, all started on Twitter. It formed February and, now with more than 2,500 members at http://bbbh.me and on Twitter using the hashtage #BBBH, the Brotherhood shows that bareback isn’t just about the hookup but also about making this choice legitimate.
  • Along with other bareback advocates, I’ve been included in European academic works discussing the Bareback movement and how its momentum is gaining legitimacy. American academics may still be afraid of the right-wing backlash, but it’s increasingly apparent that Barebacking isn’t just about the fuck but also about the choice.
  • Of course, mainstream news outlets still negatively cover Barebacking, but an uncensored look made a podcast during the year.

We had our share of setbacks, mainly with the porn industry still producing a chasm between the two realms of bareback and condom, exemplified by the switch of hottie barebacker Chris Gabriel to condom-user Mark Dylan. Why we can’t peacefully coexist still baffles me.

So pro-Bareback is growing. And I am glad.

That doesn’t mean the hate is over. It continues. But we’re moving in the right direction. Years from now, the Bareback Rights movement has a beginning (not the only beginning). 2011.

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January 1, 2012 No Comments MarkBentson Short URL
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Dark Passenger, The Return: How Should I Feel?

Old man's hand

Tonight I sit with a weird feeling creeping up my spine. I find myself reduced back to a boy, curled up in guilt and a little confused.

Long-time readers will know my story but I imagine most won’t, so I should set the stage with my original Dark Passenger. The man who launched the twisted fuck I would become. In a very real and unusually strange sense, that man indeed is the genesis of a myself, out and very comfortable and confident in my skin. While I would like to think I’d eventually maneuvered my way out of the closet, I doubt seriously if I’d ever become as tolerant of others or even admitted to myself or other what a barebacking sleaze I can be.

As a youth, I was molested by this man. Most of the entries regarding him and what he did can be found here, if you choose to read:

If you choose not, it’s fine. Know that from some point until around 18, I had sexual encounters with this man — a neighbor and trusted friend of my parents.

So the reason for my odd sensation is the call today to notify me that my molester is in hospice.

The call to me is not unusual, I guess, since he and his wife were friends of my parents and, now that both my parents are dead, the community feels as if someone in my family should be notified and, technically, I am the head of the family. The local community is not aware what this sleaze did to me or countless others.

I spoke on the phone in an even tone, thanking the person for the notification. It wasn’t a time to be emotional. But now that I sit alone with the thought of him dying, I feel something. Perhaps it is the last of my own childhood finally passing away with the man who stole it from me, since so much left me when my parents left in the last few years. Perhaps it’s a kind of happiness or vengeance, knowing the fucker is finally suffering and will befall his own fate he promised me — that one-way ticket to hell. Or maybe it’s my own fear that I might be closer to death as well.

Or is it the fear that I might become the molester like him. The other day, a 14-year-old on Twitter solicited me. Now he had been posing as a 23-year-old. And when he admitted to being 14, I blocked him. And as I wrote, I volunteered at times for my own molestation. I wonder if the world were wired when I was 14 what I might have done.

So I sit, quietly contemplating a big-dicked old man as he teeters at the edge of the abyss. And I wonder why I give a shit and I wonder why I even care.

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February 10, 2011 5 Comments MarkBentson Short URL
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I Am Less of a Citizen; I Have Less Rights in Georgia

Judge-Me

How the Fight for the Right to Marry Stops My Right to Work

First let me assure all my readers that I’m not sitting at home crying over spilled milk that is a great job working for an incredibly gaping asshole of a man who made my work existence a living hell.  I remain pissed at him but even more angry at an HR organization that allowed one manager — just one — to get away with what I consider blackmail and bullying. This man perpetuates this by going to people with whom I have worked and has effectively cut them off from me. These are friends (or people I counted as friends). But now they are afraid of their own jobs for associating with me.

Hell, the company is threatening a major, on-air spokesman I hired (who isn’t gay) due to his friendship with me. He lives across the country and barely even knew about the event, but suddenly there’s this lack of need for this extremely talented, on-air personality under contract.

I guess they’re going to get rid of anything associated with me.

But that’s not the focus of this piece.

As I went around speaking with attorneys and learning more about my so-called “rights” in the state of Georgia, I became even more disillusioned about being a citizen of this state. I know I’m a minority. And I’m not talking about the whole Gay thing. I’m talking about voting for Democrats. My relatives all vote Republican. So imagine my surprise at a recent get together at the warm and supportive atmosphere I received.

I’m not kidding.

“You got screwed!” were the first words one of my raging, Palin-loving Republican cousins said to me as I entered the house for the holiday gathering. He screeched this prior  to “Merry Christmas” or “Happy New Year.”

This was echoed many times over. And as they asked what happened and I told them my dismissal came from a dislike from me being gay, they scoffed and told me to sue. “Surely that’s illegal.”

“No, it’s not illegal,” I said.

“It can’t be,” they’d said in some form or another. “It’s some form of discrimination.”

Then I would calmly explain: “Remember hearing about ‘special rights’ that you thought we were asking for?” There would be this pause and a quizzical look on their face and then they’d nod. “Well, we were just asking for regular old rights like the right to work. But y’all wanted to make sure we didn’t get those too, so what just happened to me is down right legal.”

Now what my cousins weren’t saying is I’m not dressing in women’s clothes or smokin’ crystal meth or molesting little babies — the devil-worshiping, pure evil images they have of crack whore gay molesters. Which if they knew of the rest of this blog, they might reconsider. But they know me as the great uncle, the caring son, the understated intellectual shy cousin.

So now they’re sitting there, thinking of all the things that Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh and Sarah Palin has told them. And they can’t reconcile it with what’s happened to me.

They know I’ve done great work. They’ve seen and followed some of my work online and they know it’s successful. It’s fun stuff. It’s cool. They know of the promotions and the rewards.

So it’s time I explain what I can’t understand. I can’t understand why my leaders have chosen to draw a line in the sand and call it marriage. I don’t know why my e-mails and messages about my situations go unanswered. I can’t comprehend why Kathy Griffin and Ellen Degeneres won’t jump to my defense when I send them an e-mail. Or God forbid, the ACLU or Lambda Legal Defense. Why I can’t find a Gay attorney who doesn’t want less than $5,000 to take my case.

Everyone, it seems, is more worried about dead Tyler Clementi or the right to marry. I could only get attention to my cause if I killed myself, which would be okay except when the company terminated me, they ended the $300,000 windfall for my 21-month-old nephew.

So I live on, trying to get someone to take a case, maybe to see if we can embarrass the company. Surprisingly, when I explain that I’m concerned about embarrassing the family, they’re all fine with that. But they sympathize with the concern that I might never find a job again. So they agree that maybe, I should be quiet.

In the state of Georgia, I don’t have a right to have a job and certainly no right to marry. I can’t adopt. I can fuck. And I have the right to be bullied at work. And take it.

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January 6, 2011 2 Comments MarkBentson
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