Crabs Scratch A Hot Night

First time I lost my virginity was back in 1967 in a whorehouse in Peoria, IL.  I was with a bunch of guys on New Years Eve and we decided to drive up to this house of ill repute. I was really nervous. I was still a virgin.  My sexual experiences were mostly hand jobs from my trustworthy high school girl friend. I thought I was one of the only guys to not have done the real thing. So, we entered this prostitution house and I looked around at several available women all in negligees.They were just sitting around on display.

 I saw an African American who was so hot with big tits and long legs. She kind of looked like Eartha Kitt. I pointed to her and she got up and she took me to a little room with a small bed. It did not smell good in that room but we did the deed after a little performance anxiety by me.

I strutted out to my friends who were already finished with their ladies. I had a big smile on my face.We left and had some food and drinks celebrating our accomplishment. The cost was only fifteen bucks as I remember.

 Well, I was a freshman in college living in a dorm at the time. I lived with my best friend from Chicago. He had not come to Peoria.  I told him all about my experience and I could tell he was slightly jealous.

A few days passed and I started to itch around my testicles.The itching got much worse and I did not know what was causing the problem. I was walking around scratching like crazy. My high school girlfriend was coming up to visit me that weekend. We checked into a motel and started to make love. i had finally talked her into going "All the way".

 I could not hump for thirty seconds without stopping to scratch. Finally, she said  "What is wrong with you? I said I did not know but that I had been itching continually for days. She was studying to be a lab technician at the time. She told me she wanted to take a look at the area around my scrotum. She pulled  a lamp down to take a good look. i pulled my legs apart so she could examine me. She looked hard then moved her fingers around my testicles and started to probe.

All of a sudden I saw her snatch up something small and moving with wings on it. She held it up between her fingers to show me She shrieked "You have crabs". I freaked out. Little wings spread. I had never heard of crabs. Then she got very angry telling me that someone can only get crabs from sexual intercourse and that I had cheated..

 I admitted that I had gone to this whorehouse in Peoria a few weeks before. I did not care about what she thought. I was scared to death thinking these crabs were really dangerous. I called the local hospital in the middle of the night and started blurting out my story and asked what to do. The Dr. said to go to the pharmacy and buy this lotion sold over the counter.that would kill the crabs but he also said I had to boil all my clothes, sheets, and just about everything else I owned.

I told my girlfriend to stay in the room until tho next day when she was supposed to drive home..

I immediately went back to the dorm and started to gather up all my sheets and underwear and put them in the washing machine. Only, I had to do it without attracting any attention especially from my very anal roommate.

 I spent two days going through every item I owned and two months afterward inspecting, checking and re-checking for any of those little monsters.  My Obsessive Compulsive Disorder went into overdrive.

What an experience that was. Several.years later I told my roommate the crabs story..
He started yelling and screaming as if he wanted to kill me.

Too bad Google was not around back then. I would have been much more relieved more quickly.

A Compulsive Gamblers Tale

Gambling. One of the nastiest monsters of the world. Feed it and it eats your soul. Starve it and it destroys you mind. To a compulsive gambler the loss of gambling is good reason for perpetual mourning. Every ounce of desire in your body craves going back to gambling again. The adrenalin, the euphoria, the joy of knowing you will be in action is enough to inspire any gambler to gamble again no matter how much they have lost.

I am not just talking about lost money. I am talking about lost health, family, friends. I am talking about losing your whole life. I have gambled for over 50 years and almost lost everything. In the last five years I have quit gambling and slowly rebuilt my life. Yet, I continue to long for my greatest friend and unconditional lover. Gambling.
I was a very big gambler betting on sports, craps, blackjack. poker, and anything else I could wager on. I would win or lose thousands of dollars in one day. I figure out that I have lost well over a million dollars in my life. Enough to destroy me financially, mentally, and emotionally. But the money does not matter. It is an emotional disorder. It is an addiction that cannot be dealt with alone. Only other gamblers can help because they understand other gamblers, We are all the same. Groups are all over the country.

Still, the monster inside my brain lives on unaffected. It talks to me and says "You can do it David.". "You can set limits," "Don't go out of control, and enjoy the action. You want it." My rational mind keeps speaking at the same time. "Go to a G.A. meeting David. You are getting false messages. You are doomed if you gamble. You know that." I do know that. Now.
But, the evil voice tears at my my heart and says "just do it. "You will do it right this time. It will be OK." My logical mind needs constant reinforcement to tell me "No. Do not gamble, David" The evil gambling mind that is supported by emotion needs no nourishment. It never does..

The mind of a compulsive gambler will carry the compulsive gambling disease forever. That is the bad news. The good news is that there is help twenty four hours a day all year long in every state. There is a national hotline, website, and email address below to contact. You are not alone. There are millions of gamblers and many are able to stop, one day at a time, and change their lives..
I just celebrated my fifth year of abstinence. I have done a world of things in my 65 years of life. But none as big as stopping gambling. Everyone who cares about me knows that. I had never in the past been aware of family, friends, situations, or any the regular life experiences non-gamblers enjoy. My mind was always focused on how fast i could back into action again. Now, I pay attention to people, I'm not in a hurry to finish any activity, I am much more patient, kind, and empathetic. I am in the here and now..
So, the hardest thing for a gambler to accept is that he can never gamble again. That is too difficult to absorb immediately. But, the Gamblers Anonymous program is based on not gambling one day at a time. That is easier to accept.
The main thing is to recognize the problem. There is a whole segment of G.A for the friends and family who care about helping the gambler. It is an organization called Gam-Anon. There are Gam-Anon meetings all over even if the gambler them self will not come to a meeting.. The number is 718-352-1672 email gamanonoffice@gam-anon.org. Website http://www.gam-anon.org/

GAMBLER. GET HELP

Call 626 960-3500 24 hours a day 7 days a week. Or, go to the website www.gamblersanonymous.org

email isomain@gamblersanonymous.org
Thanks for allowing me to share this with you.

i hope it helps you..

Take a step forward.

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Viagra Is Hard To Afford

Can anyone comment on the outrageous price of a single Viagra tablet which now costs $36.00 at a CVS pharmacy?

Old Man Giving Up On Blogging

I am totally frustrated with my blog. I cannot figure out how to build traffic. I have had thousands of visitors and only made three cents in December 2013. That is pathetic.

I just finished reading about how to build blog traffic by #mashable and some other people. All very good ideas, I'm sure, if I knew what they were talking about.

# Backlinks, hyperlinks, longtail, embedded links, seo, metatitles, and all the rest of that stuff  are all Chinese to me even though I have dedicated hundreds of hours to trying to figure out how to apply what I am reading. I want to write but want to have at least a few people read me. This is no fun.

I never get any comments and I cannot even read my performance reports.

I copy and paste each blog post to Twitter with a teaser that does bring a few people back to my blog. But,
I have a virtual zero following. That means nobody likes it here.

I have also added Google+ to confuse me further. Nobody is going there either.

I think I am too old for social networking. I would rather be writing with a pen and paper.  I did all my profitable work with my mouth. Selling.

It was so much easier then. Also, it can't help that I am so technically inept.

Any  feedback anyone or am I talking to myself?

                            

Jackhammer Blasts OCD Sufferers Brain

I live in a beautiful studio apartment on the top floor of a fancy high rise in Chicago. I treasure my quiet, insulated space because I get freaked out so easily by noise, barking dogs, or any other disturbance that upsets my tranquility. It is caused by Obsessive Compulsive Disorder that causes me to interpret any intrusion as a threat to my peace of mind. Therefore, if a neighbor makes noise by playing loud music or walking loudly on the floor above I am on guard.


I feel I have to confront that person about the problem that I perceived. If that person turns out to be friendly and sympathetic and apologetic I would no longer care about the noise. I would get instant relief. If it was a person who acted angry or indifferent towards my complaint then I would start obsessing about confronting that person again and again intent on getting satisfaction..


This aspect of my Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD ) has led to endless anxiety and many terrible and complicated confrontations with people. The problem is really not about the "noise". It is about me feeling victimized or bullied, which is my lifelong obsession.


I have been living in this same unit for over four years. Until last week I had never had any problem with my next door neighbor. I talked to this nice young lady only one time before to ask her not to close her door so loudly early in the morning when she went to work. The door closing woke me because it is located next to the wall my bed is next to. She said "I'm sorry" when I explained my discomfort and I never heard the door close loudly again and forgot about this annoyance. Even when she occasionally closed the door sharply I still did not care. I did not feel victimized or feel any need to confront her..



A few days ago I was awakened to the blasting sound of a jackhammer tearing into the attached wall. I couldn't believe what was happening. It was like a bombardment. I walked out into the hallway and heard the sounds of men working and jackhammering in the next door apartment. I knocked on the door and one of the building foremen working there, who I know, opened it. I said "what's going on?" He told me the condo had been sold and there would be construction with jackhammering going on until the end of the day. I told him that the noise was going to drive me crazy because I am home all day in my office. He said "don't worry, there will be only one day of this."



I left the building to get away from the noise but was beside myself with anxiety. What if the project was not over at the end of the day? But, OK I thought, maybe it will be. I tried to convince myself. I could not.


I came back home at night. Quiet. No construction could be done after 5 pm. The next day at 9 am. the jackhammer was exploding again into my wall. I went next door again and asked the foreman why the noise was still continuing, The foreman then told me that I should not worry. The noise would be over soon. I said "You told me it would be over yesterday" You didn't say anything about this going on today also."


He said that I had misunderstood him. The jackhammering should have been finished the day before, he agreed, but the job took longer then expected. He said the jackhammer would be done within a few hours. He apologized.

I asked " What about the rest of the job"?

He said the entire job would take two weeks. I asked "what else is involved?". He said "Just normal construction, nothing very disturbing." You will hear very little." I felt lied to again.
 

The next day there was loud noise from drilling, hammering, sawing, and scraping, i went to the building office to complain. I was told that Monday through Friday construction was permitted 9 am to 5 pm. Nobody would discuss it further. I would have to live with it.


So, I had a new problem which was the job would be lasting two weeks. Not one day which is what I thought. Also, I started to worry about the foreman being mad at me for complaining and intentionally making the noise worse whenever he could. I had always gotten along with him before. Not now. I feared him.


I could hardly sleep all night waiting for the noise to start again the next day. My brain was on fire with anxiety. I also had an appointment with a new shrink that day. I left to see the shrink before 9 am to avoid the noise I knew I would hearing. I sat at a Starbucks near the shrinks office for hours while a big construction project was going on outside. That loud noise never even bothered me.

I introduced myself to this new shrink and immediately launching into a whole hour about this jackhammer issue and all the related situations like this one that have dominated my life and caused me to be continually wracked with anxiety.

The shrink listened and then told me he could not help me immediately. I asked for medicine like Prozac, an SSRI .(brain pill in plain English) which I had resisted taking again for years because of side effects I had experienced long ago. I was ready to give medicine another try.

He said he had to see me again to understand more before prescribing medicine. He did give me some good advice reinforcing what I already knew.He said that none of my concerns about noises had anything to do with the real issue of low self esteem and my definition of being victimized and my concept of manhood tied into my anxiety.


I was tortured with anxiety about the loud noise I knew I would hear when I returned home all through the session.i was in a full blown OCD episode.



I went back home and heard the loud noises pouring through the wall.. I lasted about fifteen minutes listening to the screech of drills and the pounding of hammers and the scream of wood being sawed. Then, I jumped up and again knocked on the door and the foreman again opened it. His facial expression indicated he had had enough of me.


I said I needed to talk to him again outside. I gave him a cash Christmas present to sweeten him up. Then I said "the noise is loud and it is very disturbing which is not what you promised" He said "let me show you" and he took me into the apartment to show me exactly what was being done.

That was the best thing he could do to turn off my OCD. He had tried to make me feel better with some TLC. That was and always is the key to my overcoming these crazy obsessions..



With that gesture I started to release the anxiety I was overwhelmed with. The foreman showed understanding and compassion and I no longer felt victimized by the noise of the work being done.

Soon, I was back in my apartment concentrating on working and didn't even care about the noise for the next two weeks other then when it would get really loud. Then, I would just tune it out.like a normal person would...


It is Christmas day today and the apartment next door is silent. I keep listening for noises that I envision could be coming from the new owner who I saw had left some personal cleaning supplies. I am worried about any possible confrontations with this person who will be moving in. Is he noisy? Does he slam the door? Does he have a dog? Does he have loud parties?.


I had asked the foreman questions about the new owner and he said he knew very little except he was a young man. I automatically started wishing I could just make friends with this new owner fast and that we liked each other. Then, I would not be bothered by noises made in that apartment. I would be OK with his understanding if I ever needed it.


The life of a person with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder is miserable.


It's a pain in the brain.