sixty-nine being nothing but a number

Bend over and twerk me, force me down and hurt me. Straddle me, get on your knees for me. Stimulate or tease me. Stammer out the words s,s,s,s,sixty-nine? if you resist it will be the only time. Degrade yourself to please me. In the moment you belong to me.

That is what I want.

I trust you were happy to allow to me to park all of my trademark sensitivity for a moment. It's still here of course but right now it is being steamrollered into submission by my selfish sexual appetite, animal noises and filthy fantasies.

All men have secrets and here is mine, so let it be known. I want to rut with her. I want to lay with that girl. I think I even want to make love to some of them. I'm telling you I don't want sex with one person, I want sex with literally millions of people. Why should I limit myself? I'm not sure I've got the stamina to reach the full seven figures but when there are men so old that they need scaffolding to maintain their erections still having sex, I'm happy that at least time is on my side.

For any women readers out there who might pretend to think I'm crazy when I talk about the scale of the male sex drive I will try to illuminate my point a little. Every single day I'm faced with new people coming into contact with me or cutting across my eye-line. I am always going to have an initial instinctive reaction like, 'what are they doing here?' or 'what can they do for me?'. Now here is the controversial bit. With every single one of those people my first instinct is to ask a question: 'Can I fuck it?'. Assuming an affirmative answer, a second, and potentially more important question is posed: 'Would I fuck it?'. You might be surprised how often the second question returns a yes.

It's in our nature, all of us, to want sex. To want good sex, with the people we're attracted to. Even at inappropriate times and places. Unfortunately, at some point this fact seems to have gotten perverted to the point where it is dangerous to admit the truth. We all get horny sometimes!

It's degenerated to the stage now were a man can claim an addiction to sex for compelling him to cheat on his wife. It's not Tiger's fault, he has a medical condition. It was the same for Michael Douglas. He didn't want to have sex with all of those beautiful and willing ladies. It was simply a case of a relentless addiction taken hold. My opinion on all of this is a little different to the conventional. If these guys are sex addicts because they wanted to have sex with a seemingly endless line of women the I'm sorry to say that almost all men are sex addicts. I'm a sex addict. My friends are sex addicts. Your boyfriend is a sex addict. The difference between men like Tiger Woods and an average Joe is availability and risk assessment. Be realistic guys, if you had drunken women throwing themselves at you like you were a premiership footballer do you think you wouldn't try to have your cake. Most normal guys also have to consider whether it's worth the risk to lose out on the regular sex in exchange for the possibility of some extra sex.

Girls! Girls! listen to me. Your virtue doesn't lie between your legs. It lies in the better part of you. The bits that make up the person you really are. So, take this as a call to arms because I'm not going to judge you. Girls! If you feel like you want to have sex then why don't you just go ahead and do. Do it as often as you like. Ya wee skitter!

The truth is, it's the constant search for all the sex I can find that's really been holding me back all this time. Here I am blaming it all on drinking and depression when perhaps the problem is that I drink to give me the confidence to go chasing ass and then get super depressed with everything when it doesn't happen.

If I were truly in love with someone. Then maybe things would be different.

Don't ever pay full price

I may have mentioned before that I was on a stag weekend in Edinburgh a few weeks back. Up until now I haven't really illuminated upon any of the details. Partly because I didn't want to share other people's secrets and partly because I had other considerations in the meantime. Anyway, this one is about me in the main so I suppose I'm free to divulge.

I'll start in a nightclub we were all in called Opal Lounge. It was a little pretensious but when the drinks in who really gives a shit? At some point in the evening that Kanye West tune Gold digger came on. That lit a bit of a fuse in me. Suddenly I grew in stature, chest was out and I'm dancing like Travolta. Or so I thought. Giving myself some credit, I did dance my way into a little babes mouth although I was denied any further access this time. At this point I've shimmied over to a corner seat with this girl and I'm there for maybe an hour without seeing ant one of the lads. This is when I start getting a few oblique texts telling me where a couple of the lads are.

For the purposes of anonymity lets just call them Rod and Todd. So Rod texts me telling me that himself and Todd have left and are now in a strip club. Now, I'm with a pretty fit girl here but I'm on a stag and want to be where the craic is.

Rod's texts are telling me that the name of the place is Sunin Palace. Sounds like the name of a chinese restaurant, right? Anyway, first thing I did on leaving Opal Lounge was ask a taxi driver to take me to sunin palace. The man had absolutely no fucking idea what I was talking about. Luckily there were a few rickshaw drivers there too. I got talking to this one who told me the only lap dancing club with palace in the name was Fantasy Palace. Well it's in Edinburgh and it's got tits. Of course I said Fuck It, lead on!

Imagine the scene. Here I am on this rickshaw shouting 'Ya!' and doing the whip sound like I'm riding a roman chariot through the streets. I also had to throw in the obligatory 'Bus wankers' insult at a few people who were just walking down the road at the time. King of the World!

I've found my way to fantasy palace. Pay a tenner to get inside without even knowing if the flanders boys are even here. By the way I had lost my bank card earlier in the day so after spending that ten getting in I was pretty much down to change. Inside I take a walk around keeping my eyes open for the lads. No sign. Taking a seat in the corner I am trying to look inconspicuous because I don't even want to look at a dancer when I don't have the dollars for a show.

While I'm sitting there minding my own business this one stripper comes over to solicit poor little innocent me. I pleaded with her 'I've no money' but the silly goose persevered and asked exactly how much I had. I took out a five pound note and emptied the rest of the change onto the table. I think it came to something like £13.47. You know what? she takes my hand and says, 'follow me'. To be honest, I was thinking to myself what is going to happen in here. I mean what does £13.47 get you? Am I just going to watch her take her coat off or untie her shoe laces? I have to give the girl credit though, she put on quite a cabaret for the discounted price.

Oh yes, the reason I was there at all, to find Rod and Todd. Here I'll just change the point of view of the tale for a moment. The two boys were in the same club as me but at this point they had no idea. The two horny little rascals come strutting up through the back room of the strip club after yet another dance. At full price too! Just then Todd looks up and sees my head peering out from behind a big pair of polish tits. From what I've been told I just turned round and quietly mouthed my trademark elongated 'boooiiiiii'. Immediately I went back to my evenings entertainment.

This girl must have seen something in me. Maybe she thought I had money somewhere. She gave me her number and I was texting her the next day. You just know I went back there the next night...



To this day I still have no clue as to why Rod text me telling me the name of that place was Sunin Palce. The lad is deranged!

Wasn't all bad

Arctic Monkeys lyric from back in the day:

"Anticipation has a habit to set you up for disappointment in evening entertainment but tonight there'll be some love. tonight there'll be a rawkas yeah, regardless of whats gone before"

There is something in that I think. The anticipation building inside before a big night out, but like a rubber band, the greater the energy of the anticipation the more violent the returning force becomes. It's kind of how I feel about going out now. If I am really excited for it I want to drink. If I drink there is a good chance of the night leading to disappointment and depression.

Reflecting that I might have gone off course a little with the last couple of posts I thought this time I might try to stay on point. So where was I? Ah yes, attempting to drastically reduce my alcohol consumption, hoping that it might stop me feeling like I want to throw myself into carlingford bay.
       Last friday, hungover and on a massive downer, I stood there in Belfast considering whether or not I really do want to live. Like with most of my problems I am aware that the alcohol is a major factor in bringing out these thoughts but just knowing that ain't ever going to be enough to stop them.
       So now, a week later, somewhat refreshed and thinking with more clarity you might think I am certain to never drink again when I know the effects it can have on me. How could I ever want to feel that way again? I don't. Of course I don't. But that's not the reason I drink. When I think of drinking now it is only the good things that come to mind. Intoxication, laughs, confidence. Pure fun. The excitement rising to a crescendo as I enter the nightclub. Legs, breasts and ass. Fake tan and bleached blondes. Shots and cigarettes. Jesus, I'm getting pulling pants on just thinking about it.
       How could anyone not want to feel like that? I could go on feeling like that forever. I just can't continue to withstand the downers and depression and thoughts that I might just end it one day. I've had to grow up a bit I guess. Realise that if I was serious about getting help that I was going to have to put in the work myself. Can't keep doing what you've been doing Ciaran. Well you can but it is not going to be getting any better.
       I'm not angry with myself for drinking last week in the way that I was the next day. If anything it has helped me see once again that I can't keep overdoing it. Look on the bright side. So far I have had three nights out since starting this and I stayed sober twice. Nice one.
       Can't imagine myself ever not wanting to drink. Too many good memories to ignore. A personal favourite of mine was a friday evening pub crawl in Galway  with some of my best friends. I don't know how, but we found ourselves in the backroom of one of the pubs playing a very drunken game of djenga. I'd never played before but on this day that game was the most important thing in the world and it was epic! Following that diversion,Cooney(me), found my way over to a strip club with the help of my friend Barry. Yes, a strip club in Galway, Ireland. Needless to say with a lapdance costing over 100 euros neither of us had enough cash on us for anything like that. That is when the devil climbed up onto my shoulder to remind me of the debit card resting in my pocket. No stopping me now.
       Waking up to find a receipt from a gentlemans club with 120 euro on your bank card isn't as unpleasant as it sounds. Quite funny really. The others had a good chuckle anyways. So did I when I found the jeans I had been wearing the night before were as good as ruined because now they were covered in...fake tan. #WINNING

I think what I am saying is that I wouldn't change any of the stupid drunken things I have done in the past. Most of them were fun. Some are why I am friends with people. Now it's up to me to make some new stories in a different way if I can. Just won't ever forget what went before.