9/23/2023 0 Comments Open duo mtelWhile chatting, Walter thanked me for holding Larry, his main competition, to a draw in round 7. Well, Oliver Stone had already rejected this blog entry for a film short.)Īfter round 8 Walter had caught Larry, and they shared the lead. That game was decided in my favor by Paul's early blunder, so I had apparently blotted the memory of it from my mind. (3 June 2009 update: Larry reminded me that I had in fact played the Cordel against Paul Felker in an earlier round in the Paramount, which he had observed. Not the family fork, but perhaps the family carving knife at work. Then I remembered that his son Ross, against whom I'd played the Cordel a few years ago, had come by the club as a spectator the previous week. As I left the club, I thought to myself, "How would he have known that?", thinking that since I only took that variation up in more recent years and I so rarely play in tournaments, he couldn't have seen me play it. People who won’t be shocked or disgusted that you wanted a shag: friends who want to know that you’re alive and healthy, and just how much you came.After my round 7 draw with Larry, he told me he had thought I might play the Cordel (3.Bc5) in our Ruy López. The other times-the first times, the desperate times, the riskier times-what we need is our community to remind us there’s a world, and people, who care beyond the bedroom doors. No matter how overbearing, the response was the same: Thank you for deeming my safety just as important as my orgasm.Īfter all, is there anything sexier than the full knowledge that you’re shagging in safety? Sometimes your hook-up will do that for you, with a glass of wine, a bit of TV beforehand, a convenient safe-word before they imprison you in the edging dungeon. But then I saw the gratitude in their friends’ faces that somebody was worried about them. The first time I saw straight female friends demanding the addresses and ETAs of their friends’ new slampieces, wanting texts when they arrived, wanting updates, I was shocked at how unfettered their paranoia was. That man ended up being my boyfriend for several months, but why was I even taking that gamble? Why was I so ashamed of what I was doing that I wasn’t even considering my safety?Īnd when friends decide to leave drinks for a quick threesome, it’s my responsibility to make sure they feel I’ve got their back. If you haven’t heard from me in 12 hours, send emergency services here. Every time, dicks were wrapped and boundaries established, but I’d let other forms of safety fall by the wayside.īack to that day, in front of a heavy metal door, before a man came down to fetch me, I decided to send a text to my friends: Here’s his address. I have found myself in dark, secluded corners of cities I called home with no idea how to get home. I have leapt into the cars of strangers on continents I had never been to before. Hook-up apps are a complete delight in a thousand ways, but it is truly astonishing how completely we put our need for some bomb-ass D over any sense of caution. ![]() Standing outside a door in a neighborhood I didn’t know very well, waiting for someone I’d never met to come down and let me in, I thought to myself, Nobody would know where to find my body if I disappeared. The first time I ever truly thought I was going to die was because of Grindr.
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