D360 and The Lucky Butt.

"...I'm as hot as a Texas Summer--"

Huh, and I always thought Arizona was the hot spot. Apparently it's the wrong kind of hot spot here. Arizona makes you sweat; the woman writing may be sweating, but it's not the sunshine that has her in heat.

It's her blog on D360 that's heating up my monitor. A woman who'd gone through an icy divorce was talking about melting the seats in an SUV. She'd written a post to say that D360 was her good luck fetish: a lucky butt. Lucky butt? Yeah, my words not hers. Fetish too, but I don't know what went on in the back seat--Ok I know, but I don't have pictures. There could have been a fetish or two that just weren't presenting.

Enough fetish for one post, let's talk about the butt. The lucky butt was a guy. I was younger then and more impressionable, but as the story goes, he was the butt of a University homecoming tradition. He'd rub his butt on the stadium, and the team would win the game. Really, it was an excuse to drink beer and get half naked. That's how I understand the ritual now. But hey, I think that was the goal for most college traditions so okay, mission accomplished!

"Where do you see yourself in 3 years Mr. Boyd?"

"Half naked, drinking beers with the girl in Heidelberg 204..."

I never achieved my goal. That mission was unattainable.

The mission on my monitor was different. The woman posted that she wanted to get laid. She'd rubbed herself against the D360 monitor, and presto chango! Within a week, she's in the back of the van doing everything but missionary.

So this week I've been rubbing myself against the monitor. I think MyEx's cats would be proud. I don't really purr when I rub, but then again, I'm not really getting the results I desired either.

This whole D360 lucky butt thing has left me wondering though. I've been doing a lot of soul searching while picking static hair curlies off my monitor screen and I'm starting to see things in a different light.

See, I've been where she is. Well not in the back of an SUV with a wet pet vet, but the really, really, really, really (to the power of a third grade term paper) wanting sex thing. MyEx left over a year ago and the last sex I had was January 6th, 2007 4:45pm--not that I'm counting. The afternoon was cool, the sex was brief. I have it on replay in a sticky corner of my mind if you want to see. No, no…I wouldn't sit there…

I'm getting past that. I've got some control over those desires now. Even if it's only Velcro chaining the Kong, I'll take what I can get. The thing I didn't know though, is that there's another phase after the wall hump phase and it's a little weirder.

The wall thing I understand: It's physical. The next phase is emotional, and a little more dangerous. The next phase is "I want to get married again." Yeah, I see everybody stepping back from the monitor slowly. All the lucky love rub is gone, and the face that looks on Rob is the face of horror.

"Get Out!"

It's true though. There comes a point in the recovery process where you go, "I don't want to be alone for the rest of my life! I want to get married again!" This isn't something you can cure with a complete stranger on a Chrysler hood, in a car park at Denny's. This is something more intimate that requires a third person, a safety word (like "I Do"), and a Bible or official document.

Now the Texas Summer sweat turns Georgia August swelter: it's stifling and cloying. What's more, it's far more critical to get over the priest hump than the wall hump without a hitch. I'm relieved to say I did.

That's not to say that I'm don't want either of these things anymore. I do want to get married--someday, and to the right person--and sex? Yeah, I definitely still want that. Cuz, just cuz I'm not humping the wall anymore, doesn't mean that I wouldn't like a sexy vet to knock on my door with a leash and collar.

So where am I now? According to Google maps, I'm here. There's a huge red pin through my blue roof and it's blocking my hallway. Where's here? Well, when MyEx left, I was ready for sex, when The Papers arrived I was ready for marriage, now I'm ready for a relationship.

Maybe short, maybe long. Just time with an interesting person who's interested in me. It's beyond emotional and physical, it's…real.

What does that mean? It means it's all about me (as most things are). I've done this long enough that I don't need the other two things to survive. I'll be happy to see them. But I'm sated without. That doesn't mean that I'll never be lonely or horny again. I will, but the lonely and horny aren't who I am. I'm Rob, nice to meet you, let me wipe my hand before you shake it.

There are other sides to me that are more compelling than either of these two things. I know that. If somebody else sees that, then cool, let her knock on my door and say hi. If she's got the collar and leash, then better yet, we'll see where it leads. Maybe my dog will get walked, maybe not.

"Dude! I so thought that was for me! Well at least I got food, water, and pets out of the deal…"

As each day passes I'm more comfortable with me, which is ironic, because It's what makes me better to be with somebody else. That doesn't mean I think I'm better than Texas Summer, it's just that I'm past that for now. Just like I'm past the lucky butt thing too. I'm still rubbing my monitor though. It's gotta bring me something.