johnnyhazzard

The more I speak to people about participating in TPG the more I am finding out that these Kegel exercises have been around for quite a while. My Mom used to do them after she had me at her desk at work. Her co-workers and friends swore by them for reinstating the strength of the female parts after childbirth. And now I’m using them in my quest for optimum male sexual health. I haven’t gotten to the weight yet. The first 3 weeks have been and are about mastering and identifying the pelvic muscles.

On my way to and from here and there I contract and hold. The third week includes these little bursts that I do for 20 seconds before going back to the standard hold and release move. I’m anxiously awaiting the use of this weight that I’ve been carrying around with me from the tip of Cape Cod to the tip of Africa and back.
The second layer of pelvic muscles is what we use to prevent us from pissing ourselves, shitting ourselves and gassing out our significant others. It’s been the focus of the last few weeks. The addition of the 20 pulses is something new and frankly very welcomed; I love a challenge and can’t wait until I can start using the weight and do some tricks! To be quite honest I haven’t been able to see any real improvement until yesterday while driving from Orlando down to Ft. Lauderdale.

I drive a lot and I’ve mastered the technique of urinating while driving. Yes, I know, but when you have to go and you’re able to do it you do it. If I’m on the interstate I’ll put the truck into cruise control, whip it out and relieve myself into the Big Gulp cup I snagged from 7-11 steadily cruising at 75mph. Often times I’m not on the wide open road but instead on the side roads which gives me more a chance to pee while at stop lights. The challenge here has always been to let out as much as I can while the light is red and be able to bring it all back in once the light is green. Some times are better than others much to the dismay of my seat covers and pants.

Yesterday after 2 iced Venti Americanos I was in need of a red light. Badly. Two weeks plus of training via The Private Gym and years of holding back the urge to piss were doing a piss poor job of helping me fight the urge to urinate all over the seat of my rental. Finally a red light. I unbuckle, drop the sweatpants and carefully aim my stream into the narrow opening of the water bottle. Almost as quick as it started it had to end. The light was green and everyone had begun to drive through the intersection. I pulled in ward clenching those muscles. I couldn’t help but notice that this time was actually easier; there was none of that familiar uncomfortable aching that usually accompanies denying my body the experience. It was easier. My muscles were notably stronger. It was working. I noticed a change in my body. I love that part when you notice results.

bit.ly
Private Gym. The Workout for Male Sexual Performance

I work out, that’s no secret. I take care of my mind and my body so when I learned that there was a muscle group that I was neglecting I was none too pleased. My dick, my schlong, my member, my winky, my money maker! Who knew that he needed a workout just like my biceps did.
I was approached to get involved with a new fitness program called Private Gym. It’s developed in part by a legit and well studied urologist and it’s tailored specifically for male sexual performance. When I inquired further about it all I needed to hear was that it helps men to stay harder longer and helps to reduce premature ejaculation and I was in. My thoughts were that I beat off anyhow so why not turn that into a workout too because if I’m anything, it’s a multi-tasker.
The Private Gym recently had a great write up in the NY Times and seems to have taken the community by storm with sales even before the device was completed. Here is the article ….and for those of you who need a little visual push to see what I’m talking about here is our trailer.

http://www.privategym.com/mhvideo/home.html?utm_source=manhunt&utm_medium=display&utm_campaign=540x400-5


As we age we get weaker. Duh. If we don’t work to maintain ourselves from the get go, on every front, we’re fucked and not in a good way.
There are these exercises called the “Kegel” exercises and for a long time they were only limited for women to use. They were used during and after pregnancy to tone, strengthen and improve the function of the pelvic muscles. We men have the same muscles and those same muscles control and support the penis. It’s a workout for your dick, really and truly. There are weights man! You can lift weights with your cock!
The part of this that really striked me is on a personal note and it’s slightly embarrassing. Premature ejaculation. My time in the adult industry was very successful for a myriad of reasons. One of those reasons was that I could come on demand and so the faster I came, the sooner we all could go home. Needless to say I learned to hone that skill. As I’ve gotten older though and my time in the industry has gotten less and less involved I’ve come to realize that I don’t last long. I’d really like to improve my time at bat because no one likes a “2 pump chump.” Often times I’ll stop somewhat abruptly during sex, much to the dismay of my partner, to hold back from coming. You know when you have to pee REALLY bad and you kind of pull in from the groin area? Well that same movement, that same action is what I, and hopefully you, will learn to master to increase penis strength and last longer in the sack. It’s doesn’t matter if you’re a top or a bottom WE ALL CAN BENEFIT from the Private Gym.
I’ll be doing this for 8 weeks and blogging the entire time. At some point I will be giving away a couple of these bad boys after I deem them fit for my loyal fans.
Stay tuned for updates via my Tumblr johnnyhazzard.tumblr.com and Twitter
@johnnyhazzard page.


Tumbling.
Between the end of my summer sabbatical and the return to reality in the city of Lost Angels I went to Maui on a modeling job. It was a high end job and I had to sign a release form so sorry guys, no pictures. I’ve never boogie boarded before and was excited to try and ride some waves at a place called Sandy Beach. I came to find out afterwards that this particular beach was a favorite local spot that was known for rough currents, high waves and wasn’t recommended for the novice. Can you see where this story is going?
 I walked onto the beach and surveyed the surfers trying to get in a quick lesson before heading out into the salty Pacific. It dawned on me that I really had no idea what I was doing. I figured I could paddle and then just jump on one of those waves and then boom, I’m boogie boarding. I had a driver take me to the beach and he waited on the shore with a bunch of other locals shooting the shit and giving me a confident thumbs up.
I began to paddle out to sea gently coasting like a manatee. I noticed surfers coming up over the waves and was wondering what the protocol was for keeping out of their way. Sometimes they came out of nowhere right at me. I suppose I could duck and go under water. I really had no idea what I was doing. Waves came and went all around me as did the surfers and other experienced water sportsmen. A couple of times I found myself right in the path of one of these guys and for a split second worried that I might be run over. I wasn’t but I did come close. I was also coming closer to being very far away from base camp. The current was taking me way right of where I wanted to stay and the harder I paddled the more I drifted out. I didn’t have the slightest clue as to what I was doing.
The time finally came when I caught a wave and that very moment I realized that I didn’t have a fucking clue as to what I was doing and with that I was swept underwater. I immediately became frightened and began to slightly panic. My board was attached to my hand and was being pulled farther down taking me with it. After a second of that it wrapped around my neck and began to tighten. I now had turned on my panic switch. I released myself from the board only to find myself tumbling in the wave over what I believed to be was rocks. Visions of full length cuts and head trauma seeped into my brain and all I could do was pray it didn’t happen.
I was released from my aquatic death grip and flung to shore like a defeated tourist. I’m sure the ocean was laughing at me daring me to try her again. I did not, I couldn’t catch my breath for a about 15 minutes. I sat on the beach acting as if it was no big deal all the while thanking God that I emerged relatively unscathed.
I crawled back to my driver who was now working his second beer on a towel of hibiscus flowers. When I told him of my underwater adventure and near death experience he slapped his forehead and remembered what it was he wanted to tell me. He forgot to tell me to wear water shoes because those rocks are gnarly . I looked down at the ribbons of blood around my shins and agreed with him. I was also supposed to stay far away from the right side of the beach because that’s where the rocks lived and the current is at its  worst. Again I agreed. I was also supposed to stay on top of the wave not go with it. Clearly that was the better choice. He apologized for not telling me sooner but because I looked so confident walking out there with my board in tow he thought I had done this before and knew all about Sandy Beach.  I sat down, grabbed a beer, rolled a joint and gave up surfing right then and there. I’ll stick to land sports from here on out.

Summer Sabbatical
After finishing filming “Where We Belong” I drove the 4 hours south back to LA at 3 am, to catch a flight to NYC for Pride and to celebrate the finish of my first full length-feature film. I have to admit that saying I’m  catching a flight from LA to NYC to celebrate the finish of a movie is so LA and I love it! This trip was to begin a month long sabbatical before starting a brand new chapter in my life back in LA. The porn is no more and I will be returning to school and a normal job where my clothes stay on and I repeat the same thing every day, 4 days a week.
I had big plans for NYC. It was Pride, I had friends from all over the country, there were parties every day, but the only  thing I wanted to do was hold up in my hotel room and watch the USA network. Sad right? I mean, come on, here I was in one of the biggest cities in the US, Gay marriage has just been legalized and this was how I wanted to celebrate? Yup. Exactly. Sometimes for me, the only yway I can really recharge is to be by myself. I’m a loner so  that’s what I did, I “aloned”; I avoided everyone and made sure all my posts were non location specific and had the location feature was turned off. I spent the weekend seeing select people and keeping a very low profile until Monday July 1st when I went to Ptown for the infamous week of July 4th where the boys are buffed, toned and they’re all looking like they were spat out of a GQ model making magazine machine.
Ptown is a gay Mecca and a place where I call home. I spent my twenties there every summer and made some of my very best friends there who are now spread all over the globe. I remember days, not so long ago, when I would arrive on the first day of the celebratory week and go non stop until the very end returning back to work in Boston as a shell of my former self. I often wondered, once I sobered up, if I would ever really stop the routine, calm down and grow up. I sat down with a new friend one afternoon and we discussed how now one or two days of staying up until 3am wrecks such havoc on us that the next 2 days are spent recovering and by then we’ve  used up 4 or 5 of our 7 days and that leaves us wishing for more which leads to hundreds in flight change fees and felonious calls into the office. I avoided the clubs at night opting  for porch side beers and cheese with friends. I did however attend a sunset boat cruise and pier dance that was put on by my very good David who is rumored to have put on the  last of the two. Day time events I do much better with anyhow plus I need less time recovering from them.
This year the town decided to give a week between the dolled up, polished boys of July 4th week and the grizzly scruffy bears of Bear Week so I took the break as an opportunity to go home to Ohio for some muggy, muddy weather and honest family fun. My uncle and aunt were celebrating their 70th wedding anniversary and 100 or so of my relatives were in attendance. I know I say this every time but I so love these people. Being with my cousins, who are of the same age as myself, we are reminded that it is us who are responsible now for the continuing legacy that is our family. We are now the glue that holds this massive unit together and it’s our responsibility to ensure the ongoing adhesion. God bless Facebook because now we all can meet up and talk about our lives like we know what’s  going on because we actually do. My brother and I continue to grow as grown men who are friends who happen to be related which makes me, and my Mom, very happy.
Pan to 7 days later and I’m back to Ptown for Bear Week. I arrived off the plane just in time to jump aboard another sunset cruise hosted again by my friend David and again, attended to by some of my closest friends. The week turned out to be a bit more boozy than the one 2 weeks prior but also ended up being the most bonding of them as well. I got very close to two men that I hadn’t known before and they both were incredibly moving in their own way; this town is notorious for breaking hearts and creating love. I hope to continue to see one in a purely platonic way and the other in a very romantic one. I don’t know when I’ll return to Ptown this summer as it’s a long journey and will take some advance planning due to my new job and “normal”  life but rest assured if there’s a way, I will make it happen.

The space between the "Ls"

I met him on the Boat Slip deck in Ptown on a Tuesday afternoon. His name was JP and when I saw him time stopped. I know. What is this right? The new opening scene for the next gay tween movie? No. Not my thing.This really happened and it doesn’t have the mushy Hollywood ending either. We bonded, this guy and I, and it only took a few short days. We drove the same truck and had the same tattoos. He built a garden and raised chickens. He had a smile that could stop a war and we had a mutual passion for each other that I never felt before with anyone. In fact, there were a myriad of things that I felt that I never felt before…with anyone. Basically I let this guy in and I think he let me in too so needless to say this felt good, really good. I saw a future with this guy, I saw us really spending a while together. Crazy right! I met him on a Tuesday and by time he left on Friday we were “sorta boyfriends”, his words, not mine. That was as far as we were meant to get. “Sorta Boyfriends”.
He had mentioned that he had started to see someone in Austin very casually before he came out to Ptown but they were nothing yet so I was going to fly there in a couple weeks for the weekend to have a series of proper first dates. Starting a relationship with someone you met on vacation has a very high risk of fizzling out once the suspended animation wears off and reality returns. Long story short, he realized that he couldn’t seriously date two guys at one time and he inevitably chose the other one. I didn’t get the chance to hang out with him again. I’m not going to lie. I was crushed. I am crushed. We of course wanted to be friends but emotions were high and my heart was bleeding. He became distant, understandably, which led me to become even more needy ultimately leaving me in a very insecure and vulnerable place. I sort of lashed out in a needy display which left me feeling BEYOND embarrassed. I needed some space from him and he needed space from me too if this was going to be salvaged. He wrote that he knew we’d be great together and that “who knows down the road”. I hope he still feels that way. We haven’t spoken yet despite my daily desire to call, text and email. I’m worried that I’ve replaced the good stuff he had with a feeling of dodging a vey needy bullet. I’m thinking worst case scenario here so if it does end up like that I’m prepared.
Letting go of something that you’ve wanted is quite hard to do. It’s gut wrenching and it blows chunks. I guess it’s timing or it could be that he’d rather have someone closer with a little more stability than myself. I spent so much time trying to get him to pick me and telling him this and that he never had the chance to say how he felt. Timing. Fucking timing. If only man. If only.
I’m looking forward to when I might speak to him again. I have to believe that my “meltdown” will be looked at with some empathy because he was there too at one time. I hope he cuts me some slack and remembers the guy he spent those 3 magical days with and not the crazy boy that blew up his phone with texts. I hope he realizes that it came from a good place despite the delivery. I have to believe that what we felt about each other will overcome the negative, not so hot stuff.
In 3 days I found myself really liking this guy but quite hesitant about using the “L” word so here exists that space between like and love, that space between the “Ls”.

2

Family
Growing up I was never close to my family. I liked them, we never fought, no one ever disliked anyone else but they were these obligatory figures that were just that, figures that were around that I possessed no real connection with. Growing up Gay I always felt a distance, granted it was a self imposed distance but it was a distance nonetheless. It wasn’t until about maybe 5 or 6 years ago when the relationship with my Mother began to morph into a solid genuine friendship. The mother and son dynamic dissolved and she became this real person with a real personality that I never really knew and I actually really liked #whoknew! The same thing soon began to funnel through my entire family from my brother down to my cousins. I liked these people and found myself actually looking forward to seeing them.
Unfortunately I lost one of them a couple weeks ago. I immediately flew back to Ohio for the tail end of the service but just in time for an evening of bonding with my blood over beers and shots of Fireball remembering our fallen member. Death and tragedy are a bittersweet experience because it inevitably brings people closer together. My generation of cousins are all adults now and I never get to see them. Even when I’m home I do my bit with my mother and siblings and that’s it. I never get to see the other side. As the shots were passed the sentiment echoed through the clan that it fucking sucks that someone had to die for all of us to get together. We all agreed that it shouldn’t be like that; we’re family and that means a lot in these parts. One of my cousins and I were standing on the outskirts with Mom watching all of these people that shared our blood line thinking out loud what a shame it was that a tragedy brought us all together. We agreed that we should do this once a month with all the cousins because it’s going to be up to us now to keep this family together. My mother turned to me and said “Then do it, make it happen, organize it”. Ironic that the one that lives the farthest will be the one to bring them together. Or maybe it’s not so ironic. You don’t know what you have until it’s gone or until it’s out of your reach or until it’s 2400 miles away. Your family is supposed to love you unconditionally and with every ounce of their being. There are some people in this world who don’t have that and will never know what that is. I have it. I have it the best anyone can have it. I have the luxury of flexibility and a source of income that can be quite mobile. My goal now is to arrange things in a way that will allow me to be home more often and for longer stretches of time. I’m watching my cousins kids grow up. I’m hearing about birthday parties and Sunday dinners. I’m realizing that in my on going search for love and companionship, it’s been right in front of me, well, 2400 miles away.

Now what

I joined an online dating site and when I entered what I was looking for both physically and intellectually it came back saying it couldn’t find anyone and perhaps I should rethink my answers. I did that once before. #snothot. Even an algorithm can’t find me a date? That’s funny.