Embracing The Intangible

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Play Me: Christian Löffler – Veiled Grey

We all live in the physical realm where we believe in what we can see with our eyes and touch with our hands. But as soon as we scratch beneath the surface our other senses allow us to glimpse the beauty of the intangible. Even in today’s world where we have evolved to rely less and less on our senses, we still have an innate ability to be captivated by the sound of music or the intoxicatingly indulgent realm of scent.

As I journey through life I become increasingly aware of the realms that co exist along side the physical but are often muted by our reliance on what we see with our eyes. “Seeing is believing” is a mindset that it based on pragmatism and logic but what was true today can be false tomorrow so I embrace the discomfort of uncertainty in pursuit of conscious evolution.

In my line of work as a male escort I meet people from all walks of life and the one thing that I have learnt is that as special as we think we are, and as complex as our minds may be, that invisible person passing me in the street is just as wrapped up in their head as I am in mine.

When I meet a female client for the first time, our worlds collide with an over flow of mixed emotions and desires, excitement and fear. My aim is to understand her emotions and provide peace of mind in an environment where she is free to embrace the realms that co-exist beyond the physical.

A lustful exploration of senses that once lay dormant are now alive and racing. When open minds embrace masculine and feminine counterpoints, uncontrollable attraction and desire enables us to tune in to the intangible.

We all posses the ability to travel to places yet to be explored in a world that attempts to stigmatise those who chose to live beyond the expectations of an Orwellian state of mind.

They once believed the world was flat, and as ridiculous as this may seem, in years to come they will be laughing at us too for the perceived logic we currently hold dear. A wise person knows that they know nothing.



Most of us have been there at some stage although I doubt anyone ever really intended to visit. You kind of wind up there through pretentious ‘gay best friend’ like behavior that’s disingenuous and counter productive. What I mean by this is that because of a fear of rejection we position ourselves as a ‘friend’ providing comfort, a shoulder to cry on, or a shopping buddy, all the while waiting to pounce like a hungry Hyena in a their moment of weakness. But it’s too late, you’ve already set the frame and you’ve taken a one-way trip to Friendville with tumbleweeds included.

Now of course I’m not saying that there’s anything wrong with being a genuine friend but if you eat grass and moo like a Cow don’t be surprised when you get treated like one. The key to avoiding Friendville are two concepts that many of us seem to struggle with; ‘authenticity’ and ‘acceptance’. Authenticity is simply being real about your intentions. If you want to fuck her say so in which ever way works for you. At least she knows what you want from the get go.

That’s easy enough but ‘acceptance’ seems to be the hot potato that most of us find difficult to handle. Queue the gay best friend’ routine which is designed to mask your sexual intentions and present you as an almost asexual individual who wants nothing more than to cuddle up on the couch, watch movies and engage in girl talk.

There will of course be some who mange to slip through the net during her moment of weakness but you’ll probably be branded as an opportunistic Hyena rather than a snarling Lion that’s about to rip her clothes off and perform all kinds of acts that would shame the devil.

If she does end up spreading her legs to a Hyena she’ll more than likely get buyers remorse and be weirded out by the whole experience. She’ll also probably start to distance herself because you can’t be trusted to be the gay best friend and you certainly won’t be considered a Lion. This isn’t to say that friends don’t often end up in relationships but when it’s a calculated Machiavellian type plot to get in her knickers this is different ball game entirely.

Moral of the story; be direct, honest and up front …and if the object of your desire doesn’t reciprocate, accept it and move on. Lions pick and choose, Hyenas get the left overs, be a Lion.

The cords of Orgasm

Being the inquisitive soul that I am, I’m genuinely fascinated by the way a woman reaches her orgasm. I’m not talking about the standard early morning romp when she climaxes, rolls out of bed and hops in the shower to get ready for work. I’m talking about the teeth grinding, face slapping, pussy clenching, body quivering orgasm that causes her to wail like a banshee.

Sex for me is like a really good fragrance, so if a quickie is the Eau De Toilette then an intense and passionate encounter is more like the Eau de parfum, a Tom Ford Tabaco Vanille perhaps. And like any good fragrance a quality orgasm has 3 ‘cords’ – The ‘Head cord’ which gives you the initial hit, the ‘Heart cord’ which comes through after half an hour or so and the ‘Base cord’ which subtly captivates you days after when you catch a whiff as you open the closet door. These fragrances are skillfully mixed together by a keen nose and layered on top of each other to create that harmonious scented orgasm with the richness that will ring out for days.

Let’s unpack this a little further…the ‘Head cord’ for me is foreplay, this is when I start to push her buttons and tune in to her frequency. This is a sensory exploration from head to toe – sniffing, licking, biting, scratching, slapping and teasing the life out of every curve and every bump until she’s flush with sexual frustration. Her thigh twitches as she feels the sudden coldness of my tongue flick, the stomach tenses as I breath deeply around her mid section, the eyes squint as I come in growling like a dog hovering around the side of her neck about to sink my teeth in – hard. Any moment she could find my hands wrapped around her neck like a hangman’s noose or my tongue between her legs swirling around her clit while she juices up in anticipation of the cords yet to come.

Amidst the aroma of extreme sexual tension the ‘Heart cord’ starts to ring out. The strength of which dominates all her senses as she inhales deeply when I enter her universe. She needs time to recalibrate, the ‘Heart cord’ is deep and strong, full bodied and intense so she prepares her mind to embrace. Every stroke is timed and considered as I watch closely for the involuntary reactions that guide me towards her orgasm. A certain angle that strokes her clit, or the position of my hands around her waist sinking in deep above her hipbones.

Her pussy starts to clench up and I know she won’t be able to control it for much longer; this is when I bring her back. She let’s me know how close she is to climax on a scale of 1 to 10 so my aim is to keep her in a perpetual state of ‘imminent orgasm’. I bring her back and forth whilst relishing the beautiful sound that signifies she’s about to erupt uncontrollably. At this point it’s like fanning the flames and enjoying the warmth, as it grows in to something wild and untamed.

Finally I give her permission to cum and without hesitation the flames erupt as if doused with gasoline. She’s kicking and slapping and thrashing around as I calm her by stroking her body. I channel the energy of her orgasm by massaging her body outwards from her center and she regains her composure. Have you every seen anything else like it? Who made this creature?

Now the beauty of the ‘Base cord’ is that it lives on long after the other cords have faded. But unlike the fleeting realm of sent the mind holds on to memories and feelings for much longer. The mind has a way of unapologetically interrupting the mundane routine of everyday life and whisking you away with memories of past encounters. These memories are intense and vivid, full of colour and raw emotion masked by the need to compose oneself for fear of judgment.

Imagine if we could all embrace what’s buried deep inside openly and freely like our ancestors did many moons ago, what a fucking trip that would be.

The Art of Failure

The older I get the more I learn to embrace what we call ‘failure’. To have the freedom and courage to push beyond my boundaries and find comfort in the uncomfortable is what helps to develop my strength of character in an ever increasingly hostile world.

I’ve failed many times in life both in business and in relationships and this has liberated me from the fear of failure because the imagination is almost always worse than the reality. Many of us live our lives governed by made up rules and regulations that keep us stunned by fear as we’re ushered along the conveyor belt of life about to be ground to death like livestock. The fear of losing our jobs, our homes, our money, our partners and anything else that we are enslaved to is what really owns us. The magnificent human spirit in all its glory has been reduced to a dull shade of melon collie monotony fighting for the scraps excreted out of the arse hole of life.

The formular is simple; we fail, we learn and then we fail less until we eventually succeed enough to manage failure more efficiently. The day I stop failing is the day I truly fail because in my experience true growth and self-awareness doesn’t come from success. When I’m winning I’m too busy having a great fucking time to sit and reflect and ponder on how great shit is, I’m just having fun doing what the fuck I please which has always been my preference.

Some of my most valuable lessons in life have been my biggest failures and I’m so grateful. I’m grateful that I lost a shit load of money on various business ventures that I embarked on over the years, I’m grateful that I’ve had my heart broken by someone who I loved dearly and I’m grateful for every little bump along the road that has helped to mould me in to the man I am today. Most of all I’m grateful that I am fully aware that life probably has many more painful and fucked up curve balls to throw at me because this is when I rock up to bat with fire in my belly, and this is when I find my greatest success.

Success is not measured by what I have in the bank; it’s measured by the extent to which I am content with life. This is not to say that I don’t intend to be filthy rich and insanely happy, what this means is that whether I ‘fail’ or ‘succeed’ I will never be too afraid to try because failure is the birth place of greatness.

Now this may sound corny or even plagiarised from some dusty old self-help book but it’s my experience and my reality and I’m not here to change minds. I’m hear to air my thoughts so I can better understand my mental universe and if you’re able to gain some value from that, then all the better for it.

The ‘Logic’ of Attraction

I’m sure at some stage we’ve all asked the question of a potential suitor – “so what do you look for in a guy/girl”. The more I think about it the more this seems like a pointless question. The answer is usually a generic response of niceties like someone who’s fun, caring, affectionate, loyal, honest, blah, blah, blah. We’d all agree that these are traits that we’d probably want in a partner but trying to provide a logical answer based on a list of adjectives for something as seemingly illogical as attraction is rudimentary at best.

Like most things related to human relationships and the mating dance I’m sure the subtle hand of evolution has hard wired us to respond to certain signals without us really stopping to ponder why. Why do girls like buff guys with big muscles? Why do guys like big-breasted women with curves and long legs? Why do we want people who we can’t have?…and why is power often considered the ultimate aphrodisiac?

Despite all our sophisticated posturing and logical thought processes deep down we all know there’s something raw and primal inside that we can’t control. And when that mate comes along and pushes those buttons the evolutionary cogs of attraction start turning all on their own and before you know it you’re already thinking about fucking them over the dinner table before you’ve even finished your starters.

Now if you could write down the ingredients of this recipe and bottle it you could sell it for millions all day long because this is actually what we’re looking for. Of course there are other thing to consider like the adjectives mentioned earlier but they are more like the basic ingredients to a cake – flour, sugar, butter, eggs, etc. but it’s the fire that creates the magic. So a list of adjectives will never be able to describe what’s really going on here.

What I do know is that attraction is not a choice; it’s an emotional response to certain character traits and behaviours that we deem as desirable both conscious and subconscious. How we choose to act upon these emotions is the choice. During the initial stages of attraction the brain is still in the race. In most cases it can still apply the breaks if need be but there comes a point when emotions will completely dominate our decision making process or lack there of. We don’t need to understand it from a scientific point of view like the men in white coats with thick moustaches but I think it’s useful to be able to objectify these emotions when the madness kicks in.

I find being conscious of this mating dance allows me to enjoy it more freely without the apprehensions of embracing that warm feeling in my gut. To be frank, I’d say this may be more applicable to women than men as they typically stand to lose a lot more in this equation as they are ultimately the one’s left holding the baby if things go south. So from a female perspective I suspect they have a lot more to consider than just the fear of rejection and bruised emotions when they decide to spread their legs.

I’ve come to the conclusion that you either have what they are looking for or you don’t so asking the question or even trying to answer it is counter intuitive. With that being said the subtle clues are there if you learn how to read them and as I have a keen interest in the beauty of this mating dance I try to pay close attention. Life is a lesson. Attraction is a bitch!

Blame: A default response

Blame seems to be our natural reaction when shit goes wrong. It’s his fault, it’s her fault, it’s that fucking table legs fault. The truth is that people (and inanimate objects like the table leg) are going to do fucked up shit and we have to deal with it.

I learnt this this the hard way after a very painful and emotionally draining break up some time ago. After what seemed like the ‘perfect relationship’ suddenly deteriorated and vanished in to thin air like a fart in the wind, I was left dumbfounded and genuinely hurt like I’d been kicked in the balls – repeatedly.

For a good few months I felt bitter and unable to focus on anything meaningful, full of blame and disbelief that someone who I thought I knew was a completely different person. Then one day it struck me, this painful experience was literally the best thing that had happened to me in years. I realised that I alone was responsible for how I choose to deal with ‘stuff’ regardless of who’s to blame. I learnt to accept the situation and take responsibility for my life.

It was like that profound life changing moment in the movie ‘Limitless’ when he pops the magic pill that allows him to see everything. For days I let the concept of acceptance and responsibility filter through my consciousness – it was almost surreal. What happened to the feeling of betrayal? What happened to the stomach cramps that caused my loss of appetite? What happened to the misery of a painful break up? Suddenly it was all gone.

It had dawned on me that I’m the only one responsible for the shit life throws at me, even if some completely random haphazard event turns my word upside down. Blame is a useless emotion as it adds no value to my life; all it does is shift the power from internal to external.

The ability to objectify our demons is like observing ourselves in third person. It’s the ability to be conscious of our actions and the motives behind them and decide if it’s the best path for us to take. If it is, I can make the conscious decision to embrace it, if not I can cut it out. The same logic can and should be applied to all the people who inhabit my reality. If they don’t bring anything positive to the table they need to be removed or at the very least taken out of circulation so they have as little impact on my life as possible.

We bitch and complain about our partners, friends and work colleagues, maybe it’s time to take responsibility for the situation and manage it accordingly. If they continue to cause havoc in our world clearly the blame lies with us. It’s like getting mad when the fox eats the chicken; it’s in his nature, accept it. Better to change our reality than to try to change his.

Upon realising this little nugget of wisdom, I seem to have experienced a Buddha like inner peace – which is pretty fucking awesome. Everything is a lesson and everyone is a teacher whether they know it or not. Good and bad are invented concepts because what is bad today can be good tomorrow. We only believe what we believe until we believe something else.

Apparently the earth was once flat and as ridiculous as it sounds, I can assure you in years to come they’ll be laughing as us too.

Stiletto: Inherently sexual

Among all the items of clothing and accessories in a women’s closet none have the power to transform her body and mind like a well-crafted, seductively high-heeled stiletto.

By all accounts the high-heel shoe is clearly not designed to be practical, it’s more a labour of love with a somewhat masochistic nature. There’s a certain shoe that she knows will be unbearable by the end of the night but the way her body responds with a roll of the hips and the thrust of the shoulders is utterly irresistible – there is pleasure in pain. The shoe is unforgiving and offers no place to hide, you’re either fully committed to the performance or the shoe will buck and kick like a wild horse refusing to be tamed.

Louboutin said “The stiletto is a feminine weapon that men just don’t have.” – I agree. The transformation that takes place when a women slips in to a pair of stilettos and the radiance of power sexuality is something that completely captivates men without a comparative rival. Most men don’t really see the shoe but we feel the energy, we feel the presence when she walks in to a room or when she glides past us at Liverpool Street station in the summer. It’s like the entire body has been sculpted literally from head to toe. The elongated neck line and the upright position of the head, the drop of the clavicle bone as it sways left to right, the curve in the back that accentuates her arse, the calves that signify she’s mastered the art, not to mention the arch of the instep that resembles the position of the feet when she experiences a deeply satisfying toe curling orgasm.

It’s fair to say that not all women feel the same, some prefer comfortable flats, trainers or the pointless invention that is the ‘kitten heel’. Each to their own and far be it for me, a man to dictate that a women should suffer for my sexual pleasure but being a creature of natural instinct and desire I reserve the right to discriminate as I see fit. This may be a gross generalisation considering my views are heavily shaped by a western mentality due to my geographical disposition but I am yet to meet a woman who is sexually in tune with her body who wears sneakers all day.

There are of course some unfortunate souls who should in my opinion never attempt to wear high heels no more than a bull should attempt to tip toe. Walking in heels is a skill, most of which can be learnt but not all can be taught, and the most tragic of all is the woman who’s completely unaware. I once saw an attractive female with a decent body walk past me in a club with the grace of an orangutan and the posture of a sloth. It was really awful – an image that I never forgot and regardless of how attractive she may have been on the inside I could never be drawn to that. If this makes me shallow then I’d happily own it because despite what some people say, for me the physical is just as important as intellect and sexuality. They’re the three fundamental pillars of attraction and deserve equal prominence in the selection process.

And as for the insecure man who feels too vertically challenged for his women to wear high-heels; this would be laughable if it wasn’t so tragic. The countless times I heard women state that they stopped wearing heels due to an over bearing partner not feeling ‘comfortable’ with her towering over him makes me embarrassed on behalf my gender – are we not men? Give me a fucking break.

With the level of sexual suppression and judgmental scrutiny that exists in so many facets of our society I think we should embrace anything that helps us to express what’s buried deep within. One of the most happiest memories I have was when I spent time in Italy learning the beautiful art of shoe making and experiencing the energy and excitement that a women feels when she finds that special shoe that not only fits her feet, but her heart as well. It’s not just the shoe that you fall in love with; it’s the uncontrollable emotion that you feel in your gut.