It is thrilling, even a rush with the fright that sometimes comes with pushing the boundaries. Be it in writing or in some form of play. The thrill of seeing how far, how fast, how much can be crammed into a single event. Hockey is my favorite game, I grew up watching it with my grandfather and the best games, the ones that had us screaming at that old box on 4 legs near the fireplace was the times when they got into an altercation. Gloves flying off, helmets sliding across the ice as a fisticuffs moment broke out. Even better if the Rangers were beating the crap out of one of those looser Canadian teams, at least that is how it was in that house. Of course, the Rangers never lost, they were robbed by bad calls.
Fast forward to my teen years, decisions that would mold the rest of my life were the word of the day. What college did I plan to attend? What career was I looking at trying out? I remember my career counselor all but beating his head on his desk with me. Apparently, the troublemaker student I was at the time did not have the foreseen discipline to become a doctor, a gynecologist to be exact. In retrospect that would have been a horrible choice for me, but I will skip the reasons why. I really wanted to become a writer but that was far from smart enough a career choice for someone of my skills. The thing is, I think if I had started back then I might have done quite well at it, potentially even making a name for myself. “Do not sell yourself short!” my parents’ mantra that pushed me into their mold of what they felt would be a good fit for me. During this time, I discovered girls did not give you cooties. In fact, they were quite pleasant company and there were benefits to getting especially close to some of them.
I was smitten with Kitten when I was fourteen. Her long red hair and buxom chest as she smiled with those deep blue eyes. Sigh, my first kiss and making out, first petting sessions. We never got any farther than that and we still stay in contact talking about life from time to time. My real sin was Jen, that brown haired demon in female form. We were rival high schools and both in the marching band of our respected school. We met at a competition and I was smitten with her. Romeo met his Juliette; we sealed the deal of our relationship on my sixteenth birthday when I skipped school and we started making out in a field. I was raw and new to relationships, but she was brazen and fiery, she knew what she liked and wanted without shame of expressing her desires. I got a crash course in sex and sexual fantasy. She wanted it to be rough and me to take what I wanted. Looking back there probably was some issue with her that I was unaware of, but I thought this was how all relationships worked. The next three years we were on and off again, we both dating others in the midst. Several of her female friends ended up in the back seat of my car. I felt like a big deal and I had quite a reputation of being a libertine. I was aggressive and forward, there was no edit button in my mind to mouth connection. I was fortunate that in all that insanity I never “took things too far” despite my aggressive nature.
College was a slap in the face, that pack I ran with had vanished and suddenly I was on my own. I met a sweet proper catholic girl who was always blushing at my forwardness and advances. When we got alone and I pinned her against the wall for a kiss and a feel I felt something all right. Her hand across my face. I was shocked and as much as it frustrated me, I also wanted to know what I had done wrong. That is when I learned my previous experiences were not the norm for a relationship. Of course, I was not interested in her version of a relationship. I listened and learned from her before we went our separate ways. I was soon introduced to another who was a huge influence in my world, she and I would sneak off to have fun in public places, it was a rush and I was hooked. She also introduced me to a guy who totally rocked my world like a F5 tornado in a trailer park.
I was raised men were to be with women, end of story no exceptions. Anyone who deviated from this was a pervert of the greatest order and would suffer horribly in life. He was as bold and brazen with me as I had been with Jen. The first time he took my face in his hand and pressed me against the wall for a kiss I almost collapsed. We spent that evening together and talked once he realized I had never been kissed by a man much less anything else. He was bisexual and that was fine by me, I was submissive to him and honestly in love. The next year was educational to say the least, he allowed me to express my thoughts freely and without shame or judgment. He introduced me to the wonderful world of BDSM and sexual freedom. When a situation arose that meant I would not be following the career path I originally started on he set me free. It was a tailspin spiral that sent me into chaos.
My first so called marriage was filled with secret affairs and wicked games. It was the only thing that made me feel alive and human, when that ended, I was a rogue free agent with a lust for adventure and all things pleasurable as I saw them. I lived on secrets and lies as a way of life. My second and very brief marriage was Jen 2.0 with a taste for rough and forced. We had no boundaries set, no safe words, her world was drugs alcohol and sex and mine was sex and alcohol. When I came to grips of the coming disaster, I got sober and she left. I spent years just floating about doing what I wanted but never in anything that resembled a committed relationship. My third marriage was good at first. I had hit a point I needed a break because this was not how “normal” people lived. It was good for a while, but a series of personal tragedy started ripping us apart. I missed the chaos, I needed it back to keep my sanity as I watched my wife of the time shrivel into a shell of the person she once was. I was an online flirt, perverted, shameless and found my footing in the poetry realm.
I started back on my exploration of my darker side; it was like coming up for air. Epic horror poems were rolling out as I reveled in the shock and awe they produced. That is when I ran across the mistress of angst. She was a force of nature and we ran in similar circles. A friend introduced us, and we got to talking. It was life changing to again be with someone who understood and accepted me as I was. She became my submissive and we were handfasted not long after. It was been a beautiful messy ride of an intensity I cherish, perfectly balanced chaos. We are open and poly, there are no lies, no secrets as we talk about everything.
So here I am, looking back as I am trying to make since of a upside down world. What is my next step, how will I proceed? Maybe I need to get that dark ink flowing again, after I wrote Dark Christmas several years ago it seemed to have stalled me. Maybe I need to revisit it and see what comes to mind.