WHAT’S IN A NAME?

Jamie Stayhouse is not my real name, but it is a real name.  Before using the time-honored veil of the nom de plume on this blog, I published more than one piece using it (I am proud of those pieces, but good luck finding them); I intend to do so again in the future.  And I have used the name as a protective layer when reaching out to others on Craigslist (the topic of a future post).

It is impossible to argue against the logic of having layers of protection when the alternative is to expose one’s identity to the caprices of the online world.  I’ve been castigated for doing it, been accused of crimes and misdemeanors because of what it suggests to the minds of others.  I am unmoved.  The truth is, I like my privacy.  And being attacked for protecting my identity merely confirms the wisdom of doing so.

The moniker Stayhouse has been with me for years, a whimsical translation of sorts that pleases me.  Jamie was chosen for reasons having to do with my perceived audience for the type of work I produce under this name.  As for VIXI, the name of the blog itself, that too is a clue (for those who care to play).

FOREPLAY

In terms of my passage through life, at least according to the statistics, I am entering the dog days of my sexual summer.  Given that fact and the mood I currently enjoy, it seems a good time to reflect upon my experiences so far – the choices, the nostalgia, the regrets.  I’ve been given to believe that I am sexually more adventurous than many of my peers; ironically I’ve been spurred by the conviction that I remained ignorant and benighted.  I have certainly embraced my opportunities, by and large, and accepted the (sometimes painful) consequences.  In the process I have become a skilled, attentive, and thorough lover, based on anecdotes and empirical evidence.  A close friend has convinced me that my experiences are worth recording.  And so I will give it a shot here, following the rabbit-done-died trails as it pleases me.

Some details:  Primarily heterosexual, I’ve had enough experience with men to know they simply aren’t interesting to me the way women are.  That said, support for gay rights has informed my voting record and my political activism for more than a decade.  I have made love to more than 100 women, ranging from brief trysts to ongoing affairs.  I have remained disease free during this time (and yes, I periodically check – and so should you).  I’ve been told countless times that I have a “perfect cock”— nice to look at, pleasingly thick, and long enough to satisfy without (usually) causing pain.  I have married and divorced more than once and entered numerous committed relationships that failed to take root.   I had the proverbial star-crossed, life-shaping youthful crush.  I was reared in a religiously strict home by parents who had not reconciled their own sexual frustrations.  Family members have wrestled with depression and addictive behaviors from time to time.

Make of that what you will.

A shy kid, as an adult I found the rise of the Internet a timely and beneficial way to meet and interact with others.  I could lead with my strengths (e.g., a love of language) and avoid the tedium of regular dating.  A distillation of the intimate act.  I have enjoyed the transcendent heights of sex; I have also looked back with embarrassment at my more compulsive excesses.  The discovery of the book The Ethical Slut tempered my selfishness; although I have not fully embraced the polyamorous lifestyle, I am learning to apply the adjective in the book title to my choices.

Make of that, too, what you will.

It is said that the brain is the primary sex organ, and I intend to present my experiences from the inside out, and not as some sort of locker-room boast.  That said, I love sex for its own sake, and I am happiest with a partner who has the same defaults.