My poor brain

First off, if you want to check out the story I submitted, it's at this link. The theme of the website is male mind control. Many of the stories go in ways that don't really appeal to me, things like humiliation, guys becoming sex slaves, guys turning into certain body types that don't do it for me (bears, twinks, etc.), but on occasion there is a story that really seems to click with what turns me on, which is what keeps me coming back. Typically I like stories that are a little bit more romantic, with the mind control simply changing the characters sexual preferences rather than taking away their free will. My story centers on muscle growth. Not to say that I find bodybuilder types the most sexually appealing (there's such a thing as too much of a good thing). But the transformative aspects (both body and mind) are a turn on for me.

Now an update on my life. Forewarning, this is going to be a rambling, venting entry. I've recommitted to using this blog as a means to help me. I need a place where I can vent and sort through my thoughts, and I need to check ego at the door and not feel guilty about feeling what I'm feeling.

My next appointment with my therapist is on Thursday. I'm going to ask for a referral to a new psychiatrist. My anxiety/depression has become very problematic. I am at the point where I am waking up in a state of anxiety, which makes it very hard to get up in the morning. The last time it was this bad was when I was 25/26, in the midst of my first career crisis after having second thoughts about doing a PhD. I don't count my post-breakup depression, because that was a different type of animal.

Other health concerns are complicating things. For more than a year now I have been dealing with various foot problems. It started with pain in one of the sesamoid bones (located at the big toe joint) in my right foot at the end of 2014. I started seeing a podiatrist, who tried putting me in a walking boot for several months. While I wore it a lot during that time (Feb-Apr 2015), I wonder whether I should have been even more strict. I didn't discontinue improv during that time. Instead I performed with the boot on. And I would take the boot off for very short distances (walking around the house, walking from the car to a restaurant, etc). At the end of that period I switched to wearing athletic shoes and walking carefully. This actually seemed to help my problem quite a bit, so I began to be hopeful that the worst was over.

I was wrong. My foot really became aggravated when I traveled in Italy during the summer. Since I didn't start off the trip with very much pain, I thought I would be okay. I brought plenty of kinesio tape to wrap my foot with for extra support. But by the end of the trip, I was in agony. I think I was compensating for the sesamoid pain the whole time. That altered walk was very hard on the ball of my foot, and when I got home I was experiencing a lot of metatarsal pain. I went back to the podiatrist and went back in the boot for a time, but it didn't seem to help. The podiatrist signed me up for physical therapy. Meanwhile, I tried wearing metatarsal pads in my shoes. This seemed to create other problems, as I would feel weird pain radiating up my leg. As soon as I discontinued use of the pads, oddly enough, the pain seemed to improve dramatically. Soon it felt like I was mostly back to just having sesamoid pain.

That lasted until January, when the metatarsal area started hurting again. I started using the boot off and on again for relief, including on the trips I took for work and my cousin's wedding. A new orthopedic surgeon I saw in December finally got back to me last week to confirm that I did not seem to have a sesamoid fracture. I went back to ask him about the metatarsal pain, but he very condescendingly told me I just needed to go back in the boot and wear it very strictly for several weeks, then gradually wean off of it. My pain is probably the worst and most constant it has been now, but the ortho doc waved away my working theory that I have a metatarsal stress fracture from the compensation I was doing.

So where I stand now -- I'm wearing the boot at all times again. My left foot has started to bother me too because it's having to bear the brunt of the work.

tl;dr: My feet are screwed up, have been for a long time, and they are not making my anxiety/depression and motivational problems any easier to overcome.

I'm trying to do the best I can. I am limiting walking however I can, and I am on an indefinite hiatus from performing in improv shows. Since improv and my troupe friends are such an important part of my life, I am still attending practice and doing music duty several shows a month. I'm also keeping my monthly show going, but more as a creative director instead of a lead performer.

In addition to trying to heal my foot injuries, I'm also taking it easy because of a minor back injury I sustained in a car accident last week. I was in the passenger seat of my car coming back from a three-day weekend trip (my friend was relieving me for a while as I had driven the first half) when a big pick up truck came out of nowhere and hit us in the back passenger-side. The truck ended up rolling onto its side on the shoulder. We were very fortunate, to say the least (and the other driver was okay too). Just one more thing to deal with right now. My car has been in the shop for the last two weeks.

So basically the main stresses of my life right now are my chronic foot problems, my car in the shop, my back pain, work stress, and figuring out my next career step. It gets me overwhelmed, and some days I just don't feel motivated to do anything except distract myself. At least I'm not so down about my dating life currently, but that's mostly because I've pretty much accepted that I'm likely not going to have a relationship in the foreseeable future and that the career things need to be figured out first.

I know there's a lot to be grateful for in my life. I know it's a bad idea to compare myself to others. I know a lot of my problems exist only in my head. But it's so hard to figure out what to do to make things better! Arbitrarily pick a career direction and do it just because? That's pretty much what it's coming down to. Not a very inspirational reason to go in a career direction ("I was suffering from anxiety and depression, and I knew the only way out was to move forward, but since I couldn't find a path that really spoke to me I just tossed a coin, and that's how I got here!").

I try to remind myself that the sexuality crisis I went through has a lot of similarities to the career crisis. When I was choosing between dating guys and dating girls, there were valid reasons for each. I had low hopes of ever having an actual relationship, let alone finding someone I could actually fall in love with. And yet, a mere few months after I made my decision to date guys, I had wound up in my very first relationship and had fallen in love. The passion I had for that relationship was not preexisting. It's not like I had a hint of passion for Ben when I decided to try dating guys . . . I hadn't even met him yet! So sometimes (always?) passion follows action, it doesn't precede it.

The lesson I am trying to teach myself (I saw it on a website recently): Clarity comes from action, not thought. My brain has been a helpful tool during a large part of my life. It allowed me to excel in school, in classes that many others struggled with. It has allowed me to do well in improv and turn it into a wonderful, enriching pastime (which I also discovered and grew a passion for, rather than already having one). But now it's time to cut down on the brain power, because it's hurting me. A lot.

The More Things Change

Despite my focus on professional issues in the previous entry, I can't pretend that my personal life is not important. It is. Very important. It always has been. My sexuality confusion has defined and dominated the last decade in a way that I regret immensely. At the same time, you can't say that I haven't been proactive in trying to find a solution.

After years of trying to figure things out in the safety of my own room, I forced myself out there and started dating. I almost immediately got a relationship for my trouble, and for the better part of a year these issues started to decrease in intensity. They were still present, but I was happy enough that I finally felt like I was making progress.

Then it ended, and the issues came back with a vengeance, During that time I've dated a LOT. I've gone on so many first dates, and though I haven't had as many sexual experiences as many guys, I've had several. Still not anything beyond oral for the most part, but still . . . I'm a bit more experienced than I was starting out. But no one has come along and made me feel convinced that this was the right path for me. And that's what is so aggravating. Ben's not enough. One relationship could be a fluke.

I hear so many stories about guys coming out of the closet, and the first time they do something with a guy it just feels right. And sure, when I have a promising prospect like Thomas, it does relieve my anxiety a bit. But does it feel right? I just don't know. It seems like my lack of interest in actual sex is the common factor that has torpedoed my potential relationships with several good guys now. Our lack of good sexual chemistry was a major factor in Dean ending things. Things ended with the gaymer earlier this year after we fooled around (awkwardly). And Thomas, the best match I've found since I've been single again, cited our lack of bedroom play when he told me he thought of me as more of a friend (even though he never once invited me over, nor drove to my neck of the woods . . . where would we have done it Thomas, the car?) Not to mention the "guy who cooked for me" who went away from the summer. He came back . . . and responded to my text with a "I'm not in dating mode right now" explanation, along with an apology. This from a guy that was very interested after our first two dates! When did his interest seem to die off? Not after his trip . . . no, I can trace it to right before he left. Right after our third time seeing each other, during which I slept over at his place and we didn't do anything sexual.

I've gone on a couple dates with a guy who has an amazing personality. Seriously, this guy is cool. I'm also not particularly physically attracted to him. I also am not sure I'm comfortable being doted on like he seems to like doing. So this is not helping my current bout of confusion.

I guess I'm afraid I like guys more in theory than in practice. Sure, the hot ones are great to look at . . . but how does that translate to a relationship? If the kind of guy I'm interested in only comes around once in a blue moon, and then rejects me for not being into sex enough or not getting to it fast enough, then why am I even dating guys?

I know that a lot of this has to do with the fact that I don't have any prospects right now that I have interest in like I did with guys like Thomas and the flake who cooked for me. But still. I shouldn't have to actively be dating someone to feel (more) confident in my sexuality.

I honestly feel like I might just be alone forever. And I know that it's that feeling that makes it possible, but I can't control it.

So if I force myself to stop dating and focus on career, it might just be because I've given up on finding someone. Because if I have to be alone, I might as well try to do what I want.

I'm sorry for this Debbie Downer fest. I've just really been bothered by this lately. Too many disappointments in a row, and frustration over never seeming to be attracted to the guys that do like me. Then there's a (married) girl I know that I seem to be crushing on, to throw that into the mix.

Maybe I just want what I can't have, what seems unobtainable . . . before I came out guys seemed so desirable . . . now girls don't seem so bad. Oh that greener grass . . .

Big reveal

I've been blogging for years, and one of the primary topics of this blog and my other one has been my journey toward figuring out my sexuality. However, there is a missing piece of the puzzle, and I don't think I have ever discussed it before. Why? I admit it. Because it's unusual. As hard as it was to come to terms with being attracted to men, it was at least something that was widespread in society. Unusual fetishes on the other hand . . . well thankfully because of the internet I know I am not alone in that respect either.

There is an unusual fetish that nonetheless has a presence on certain internet communities. It is known as a transformation fetish.

Transformation fetishists are aroused by depictions or descriptions of transformation. Who is doing the transforming and what they are transforming into varies. Some people get off on transgender transformations, or depictions/descriptions of men turning into women and vice versa. Others like age progression/regression. Others like transformations into animals, statues, objects . . . what have you.

For me, over the years I have managed to break down the elements of a transformation that I find erotic. At this point it is clear to me what kind of transformation does it for me and what kind doesn't. Male to female, for example, doesn't. Human to small animal or statue? Nope.

A transformation needs the following elements to get me hot and bothered:

1. It needs to be involuntary, brought on by something outside the character. This might be why the "Animorphs" book series never really did anything for me in that way. The characters could turn into animals at will. Well, that and also the next item . . .

2. It needs to involve an enhancement of masculine characteristics. Physically that usually means increased musculature. If this comes with stereotypical masculine personality changes (aggression, confidence, sexual drive), all the better. So a cartoon with a man being changed into a frog probably won't interest me. But an episode of the Aladdin cartoon show where Aladdin is transformed into a vicious shark? Ding.

3. The scenario is further enhanced if there is an element of mind control. So stories that mix transformation with hypnosis are extra interesting.

4. While POOF type instantaneous transformations are okay, it's much better if the transformation is slow and detailed. Taylor Lautner in Twilight? Meh. David Naughton in An American Werewolf in London. Woof.

This fetish has long been a source of shame for me. Having been a very conservative, withdrawn, goody-two shoes growing up, that doesn't come as much of a surprise.

My earliest transformation-related memories are dreams that I had when I was very young. Dreams of being forcibly changed into various creatures might be horrific for some kids, but I liked them. I also remember various cartoons with transformations in them, such as the aforementioned Aladdin cartoon, Conan the Adventurer, and many others.

When I was a teenager I had a fascination with werewolves. This makes sense, as werewolves meet all of the above criteria. In fact, the transformation scene in An American Werewolf in London is one of my first memories of getting aroused by external stimuli.

That was what turned me on in my teenage years. As it was something I was ashamed of, I naturally suppressed it. I remember one time I printed out an image of myself as a merman . . . that did not go over well with my parents.

Despite my embarrassment I would still entertain my interest now and then. I would seek out transformation related media wherever I could, particularly anything werewolf related. I discovered the Transformation Story Archive online, which paved the way to me discovering that there was actually an online community of transformation fetishists. The revelation that there were actually others with the same or a similar fetish was huge. It made me feel much less like a freak, though I was still not to the point where I was comfortable sharing my fetish with anyone.

I think part of the reason was because I was uncomfortable with some of the overlap of my fetish with other unusual fetishes. Because some of the scenarios that aroused me involved animal transformations, I was afraid that I was on a slippery slope toward bestiality. I also discovered the furry community online, since there is some overlap between them and the transformation fetish community. I was not into that at all. and (apologies to any furries), the idea pretty much repulsed me.

Then, as I began to acknowledge feelings I had for certain guys in college, I began to look at my fetish in a new light. Perhaps, in a way, I was using my fetish to mask my latent homosexuality? That's when I realized the importance of masculine characteristics in the stories that I found most arousing.

The first big step toward self-acceptance was opening up about my fetish in therapy. The next big step was telling the first non-therapist, who was my ex-boyfriend Ben. When I told him, he treated it as a non-issue, and even good-naturedly observed "Oh, so that's why you're a fan of that Teen Wolf show." His effortless acceptance was greatly validating.

After he dumped me and jettisoned me from his life it took a while to feel safe enough to tell another person, but eventually I opened up to a few of my closest friends and a couple of my cousins. Recently I had a rather in-depth discussion about it with my friend Jack (YouTube guy's boyfriend), and even shared with him some of the stories from one of my favorite websites.

In recent years, as I have accepted my attraction to men, my interest in werewolves has waned. Instead, I tend to read transformation stories with much more explicit gay overtones. The stories usually involve muscle growth and sometimes even straight-to-gay transformations. Even within such stories, however, I run into elements that don't do it for me, which reminds me that everyone has their own idiosyncratic kinks.

Since this fetish was pretty much the only thing that would get me aroused during my formative years, I naturally had a difficult time figuring out whether to date men or women. Even when I finally allowed for the possibility of being gay, I still had a hard time feeling truly "turned on" by guys. I don't fetishize genitalia like some people seem to do. Porn has never done much for me. I guess my goal recently has been to try to find where my fetish has the most overlap with reality (since the possibility of dating a werewolf or The Hulk is slim). Ideally I'd like to be able to tap into what turns me on the most so that I can properly perform with a sexual partner. I know some people use role play. Maybe I will try that someday.  

Anyways, I thought it was important to finally address this subject, since it is an element of what makes me who I am and has also complicated my sex/dating life. Has anyone heard of the transformation fetish before (or have it themselves?) What unusual kinks do you have?

A Thanksgiving Coming Out Story

Has it been a month already? Time flies. Well, as is often the case when I don't update regularly, I have a bunch of things to talk about. Too many for one entry. So I'll split it up!

Today's topic: Roger's coming out at Thanksgiving.

First, a recap. Roger is my cousin. I have always been close to him and his brothers, Gavin and Brad. They are like the brothers I never had. Until I received confirmation early this year, I long suspected that Roger was gay, as did many others in the family (and out of the family for that matter). Roger is the type that is fairly obvious . . . but also oblivious to how obvious he is. He's not really feminine . . . I guess a little flamboyant? Hard to really describe. But you'd know. And it's not just his love of Beyonce, Lady Gaga, Taylor Swift and other pop music divas. It's not just his obsessive devotion to working out and posting pics on Instagram of him in his underwear. It's not just that he's never had a girlfriend, but has plenty of "girlfriends." It's just something about his demeanor that causes people to assume. Now of course, all of those things I listed are stereotypes. But when they're all present in one individual, it makes you kind of wonder.

What it didn't make me do, however, was come to a definitive conclusion. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. No matter how many beefcake photos were floating around on Instagram, and no matter how many gay clubs he accompanied me to (at which he ran into people he knew), I was determined to let him come out in his own time, if there was even anything to come out about (oh, who was I kidding?)

When it became apparent that he knew his way around West Hollywood way more than I did, however, I began to get impatient. The final straw was when he came out to my friend Chris when Chris asked him point blank, and followed up the admission with, "Don't tell Cal."

Chris did tell Cal. And Cal did not understand WHY Roger didn't feel comfortable telling him.

I had come out to Roger more than two years earlier! Surely if anyone was safe to tell it would be me!

I had a conversation with him and pretty much confronted him with the issue. And he finally came clean to me. He also gave me permission to tell his two brothers, deciding he didn't want to tell him himself (they were already just as sure as I was, we had speculated together and were worried about Roger).

This began a snowball effect, and Roger subsequently came out to his close friends. He allowed me to tell my parents, and he talked to my mom openly about it at a family gathering (his parents weren't there, they live elsewhere).

He began to target Thanksgiving as the time that he would do the hardest task: come out to his own parents.

Background on Roger's parents: They are very conservative. They practically live in a right-wing bubble. Their home is in a rural gated community, and their only source of news is Fox News and conservative talk radio (so, rather one-sided). They also have been out of the workforce since practically the late 80s, and thus have even more limited exposure to other points of view. They run their own business out of their home now. As such, their views on homosexuality are . . . a bit antiquated. They've never said anything offensive to my face, but they have to my mom. They've expressed their concerns about me getting diseases, or having a shorter lifespan, or being promiscuous. That pissed me off more than a little. Do they know how unpromiscuous I am?

Knowing them as being so conservative and ignorant about gay people, I had been nervous to tell them about myself back in the day, in 2012. More nervous than I was to tell my own parents. Fortunately (?) I didn't have to. Roger took the initiative to tell them himself. It was over the phone. The conversation went something like this:

Roger's parents: So what did you do this weekend, Roger?

Roger: Oh, I hung out with Cal and Ben.

Roger's parents: That's nice. Who's Ben?

Roger: Umm . . .

This is where he could have said, "Cal's friend." Instead he decided to out me. And then he didn't tell me what he'd done until a month later, after I found out through my mom that his parents already knew somehow.

In any case, I digress. I am not vengeful, so I certainly wasn't going to out him to his parents. He needed to do it himself. And I assured him I'd have his back, as would his two brothers. I gave him the following caveats: 1) Don't tell them on Thanksgiving Day. Wait until at least the next day.  2) Don't tell them that a bunch of family members already know, unless you absolutely have to.

Cut to Thanksgiving. My other cousins and I pick Roger up from the airport. He's sporting his earrings in his recently pierced ears. Now, I don't think this is really the signal for "gay" that it used to be. But remember, my uncle and aunt live in a time capsule. Brad figured that this would force the issue, but I was skeptical. They'd seen him with magnetic studs in a Facebook picture. Surely these wouldn't be that big a deal?

Well, they were a big deal. His father pressed him on it, and pressed him on it. Until Roger decided to come clean right then and there.

I don't want to get into too much detail here, as the details of the conversation are between my cousin and his parents. Plus, I wasn't even present. As soon as I got the text from Roger saying "I told my dad!" I decided to go outside to give the family some privacy. Note: this was about 20 minutes before Thanksgiving dinner. Caveat 1 violated.

After loitering around outside in the dark and cold, texting Gavin and Brad to get them home as soon as possible (figures they were gone when this went down!) I tried going back in to see if the discussion was ongoing. I heard a short snippet of conversation indicating that Brad was having to explain who else already knew. Oops, there goes Caveat 2.

Ultimately, it went okay. The topic came up repeatedly over the course of the weekend, but never with me. Gavin talked to them, Brad talked to them, Gavin's fiancee talked to them. I'm sure they probably felt awkward bringing it up with me. I know at one point they asked Roger if I had anything to do with it (as if I corrupted him or influenced him). This pissed me off even though I knew it was coming. Roger had mentioned to me before that they had asked about me in that way. I know they're just ignorant and grasping at straws. Roger insisted that it was something he'd always known, that I had nothing to do with it, and that it was something innate.

In the end, Roger felt hugely better, like a great weight was lifted off his shoulders. I'm happy that I sort of got the ball rolling on his coming out process this year. His parents will take time to adjust. It's one thing when it's your nephew. It's different when it's your own son.

But, I have faith in them. Back when I was with Ben, they chatted with him on Facetime during the holidays. And after my break up, they were the only ones to call me especially to offer their condolences and to express regret that they didn't get to meet him. That phone call was one of the most touching things anyone has ever done for me.

So in the end, they still love Roger. They're not the kind of parents to disown him or try to make him change. And for that I am thankful.

A coming out long in the making

So what's new in the Wonderful World of Cal?

I'm still seeing Steve. He's a really cool guy. Super sweet, really nice. Not quite feeling "sparks" but I'm giving it a little time to get to know him. We're going to see a play tomorrow, so that should be fun. Ron, the last guy I sorta-dated, is the violinist. I've informed them both though, so I don't think it will be awkward. It will be good to see Ron again, and to get a chance to get to know Steve a little bit better. We've only had weeknight dates up to this point since we've both been so busy (he went to Spain for a week, then I spent two consecutive weekends in LA).

Speaking of my trips to LA, they were a lot of fun (well, other than the fender bender I was involved in on the way back from the first one . . . LA traffic UGH). I made some new gay friends, including a really cute couple. One is 25 and the other is 20, and they are both super nice. I've gotten to know the 25-year-old a bit better, as has my friend Sam. They are both gay Christians and go to grad school at the same school, so they have a lot to talk about. Another new friend I made actually came to see me perform in my shows the other night, which was really cool of him! We hung out a bit afterward.

Other big news: my cousin, Roger came out to me at long last. His sexuality has been an open secret for quite some time. In fact, when I came out to him more than two years ago, I was half expecting him to reciprocate. When he didn't, I second guessed myself a bit. I resolved to wait until he felt comfortable, rather than push him.

Fast forward some time and it became pretty blatantly obvious that he is gay, but he still hadn't told me. He demonstrated a familiarity with West Hollywood that put mine to shame, had an Instragram account full of beefcake selfies (he is quite ripped), disappeared some nights we hung out with suspiciously weak stories about where he'd been . . . Basically his other two brothers and I had made up our minds about him and were just waiting for him to come out. Except he didn't.

The final straw happened last weekend in two parts. First, my new friend the 25 year old let slip that Roger had come out to him, but had said "Don't tell Cal." (WTF??) Second, I found what was obviously Roger's Grindr account. That night I finally had a talk with Roger, and expressed how I was feeling rather shafted by his secrecy. I told him I had opened out to him two years prior despite some hesitation about how he would take it, but felt I needed to do it because I had suspected he might be dealing with similar issues. I told him how I felt like he didn't trust me, and I wanted to assure him that he could trust me.

I never wanted to push him like this, but he has a bit of a naive streak and I have been worried as of late that he might be taken advantage of or get in a bad situation. My trust of him and comfort around him was also starting to be affected, since it was so apparent that he was keeping things from me when I was always so honest with him. I didn't want our relationship to begin to erode.

Bottom line, the conversation went very well. He opened up to me about exactly how long he had been keeping it a secret (he's one of those who has pretty much always known). I told him how despite his attempts, it wasn't much of a secret. He was actually quite surprised to know this . . . he had thought he had been doing a good job. He gave me permission to tell his brothers about our conversation, so I said I would (and I did the next day . . . turns out the older one Gavin already knew, because Roger had fessed up to Gavin's fiancee when she asked). His parents, however, are off limits. I wouldn't want to tell them anyway (even though Roger is the one who outed me to them . . . what can I say, I'm not one to retaliate haha).

I do feel like he will be better off after he tells his parents, but that is something he has to do in his own time. But now that his two brothers and I have been brought into the "circle of trust," I told him we will have his back whenever he chooses to do it.

Already in the last week he seems a lot more at ease and has been sharing more with me than ever about himself and his burgeoning dating life. Hurray!