The Peaking Duck Special

After years as a blogger, I find my hit counts to be dwindling down to mere double-digits. Nothing compared to my glory days as a Blogwhore finalist. I think I’ve narrowed it down to a reason: I’m not single anymore.

There, I said it. I’m no longer single, so my posts aren’t — for a lack of a better term — spicy anymore. Well, not as spicy as they used to be.

Gone are the drunken posts detailing my sordid encounters with the many boys of Waikiki. The posts about my menage-a-trois and bed jumping are but mere memories. My countless rants about the boys who broke my heart (Jake, if you read this, you still suck) have been replaced with grown-up stuff. Like trading in a box of condoms for a cooking apron.

Thinking about it makes me laugh: my god, so many boys have seen the interior of my Waikiki apartment since I’ve moved in there last November. It’s thoughts like that that remind me I’m a slut. But I digress…

What you readers don’t realize just yet is that *married life* can be bliss. Pure and unconditional bliss. Boundless rewards await you. Insecurities are quenched and doused like a bad fire. Lush and beautiful memories sprout where once there were trivial ones. Yes, there are scores of benefits that you will only begin to value once you’re in my shoes. Maybe then you’ll see the value of my more mature writing.

So, I’m sorry dear readers, but the old me is done. He will be missed.

Of course that doesn’t mean you won’t get a sassy tale of sex or two. I am TheCheyne after all.