The Comfort of My Afflictions

This is a #NSFW journal where I write about my baggage: sexual, emotional, physical, intellectual, social.


After twenty minutes of direct questions Psychiatrist P diagnosed me as a covert narcissist.

My burbling anxiety immediately boiled up and my head felt like it was elongating, searching for the ceiling. My hands started tingling and I expected they would inflate and take over the room.

I was gutted and distraught. Ready to bawl.

I asked Psychiatrist P if the narcissism caused my depression and anxiety or vice versa. He said it didn't matter as he was a “chemical guy.” We weren't going to go rooting around for causes. He was going to “stabilize” me and plunk me into a CBT program.

I'd taken Citalopram for about a decade, prescribed by my G.P. When it stopped being “effective” a new G.P. prescribed me Venlafaxine (again) and arranged a psychiatric referral. Psychiatrist B evaluated me and added Alprazolam. This combination didn't work so Psychiatrist B and my G.P. settled on Bupropion.

Now three years later, Psychiatrist P maxed me out on Bupropion and decided to cocktail it with Duloxetine and Zopiclone. I'm also on Rupatadine for allergies and Pantoprazole to settle my guts. And vitamin D.

This is the last three or four years of head pills. I've swallowed another couple of decades worth. Kind of like a baseball manager rotating his pitchers. My favourite is Venlafaxine. It gives me ridiculously frequent and steel-hard erections. And it suppresses orgasms.

Narcissist. Something I am. Not something I have.

This is a NSFW blog where I write about my baggage: sexual, emotional, physical, intellectual, social.


I still have my Ashley Madison account. It's hidden and I don't use it at all. In the city where I live there are women who have logged-in daily for five years. I wonder if they've ever hooked-up. There is seldom anyone new.

But if you're patient and creative Ashley Madison works.

I'd forgotten until a few days ago, probably because I've created and deleted different accounts so many times, but I have an Adult Friend Finder account, too. I logged in and my profile is hidden and my description doesn't say much. I'll leave it for now.

So far, I've clearly falled short of the sexual preferences and desires of Adult Friend Finder members.


I deleted the Grindr app last night. Again. So, that's what, five times? It really is full of garbage people, including myself.

I did hook-up once through the app, with an Filipino guy in his forties. About a 7-inch uncut cock, average thickness. I let him fuck me, but it took a while for him to get in me. I hadn't been fucked in about 5 years. That was in Toronto, just after the police arrested Bruce McArthur, the serial killer who preyed on gay men. The guy who fucked me then was Cambodian. His cock was so small that I couldn't even feel it. But it wasn't the smallest I've tried.

I barebacked them both, missionary position. I didn't let them cum inside me. But I wanted them to.