Thursday, August 25, 2011

Coming Home.

So I went there, dressed in my normal every day clothes. No leather pants, no soft shirt that shows the tattoo. Just normal. My third time going to a pub as a sober alcoholic in two years and ten months. And the second time at a pub in the last week. The first time I took photographs of the band. An amazing experience going out. The photographs was not the idea, but was a good thing. It made me feel less out of place with my cold drink in my hand.

But this is different. It’s a kink event, a social. A regular meeting that happens socially in a pub on a monthly basis. And just because I have a sickness that makes me different from most in just another different way should after all not influence where I should be able to socialize or not.

A week before I was sitting in a different place. Where everyday Vanilla life was happening around me. Normal people dressed normal, as now. Walking past, going about their lives. And I was talking to someone, and the person was departing her Vanilla life’s philosophy to me.

And the thought in my head, in the crowd was:

“You are so fucking normal. You have no idea how different I am from you. You presume to know me and know what and who I am. But the truth is that if you knew. I would scare you. I would make you afraid of me, and what I stand for. Not because what I am is scary, or who I am is scary. But because it falls outside your frame of reference.

You don’t know anything about what my life, my lifestyle, my beliefs and non beliefs are about. But I know that if I told you. You would judge me. You would take the tiny bits of information that got stuck somewhere in your brain and carry that to the world.

Talking about how I believe things to be different, idealistic perhaps, innocent perhaps… No, those are not the things you will remember. You will not hear that I have more love to give than most. You will hear that I want to receive more than most, and your reference will not be that I want to just love. Your interpretation will defile the word. It will take away from it everything that Love stands for. As you will not be able to fathom that I have moral values, that I have a sense of right or wrong. You will take the bits of what stems from true love, submission, dominance, equality, passion, raw desire and a willingness and a need to please, not only sexually, and you will defile that with your judgment of me. Because you don’t know. Because you have never and will never know all of what it is that you grew up being taught to fear and judge. It comes naturally to you because you don’t know better.”

However now I am sitting behind a guy that wears a big black ear ring, tattoos on his calves and other places, his fiancĂ©e a petit beautiful woman. With hair colored like the pelt of a leopard. With a tattoo of a cupcake on her wrist to remind her of her daughter on a daily basis. Beautiful people, people that’s able to love on every level that the word can describe, Love in punishment, love in tenderness, love in dominance and submission.

Next to them sits a Man. Big strong, muscular, no fat. Dressed in sexy female clothes. With knee high boots, and an amazing person to talk to and listen to. Someone that will be judged like me. We sit there and I see the girl that has just told me that her backside is sore from her first flogging she got a few days ago, and I look around this room of people all listening to a very “normal” guy standing in front of us talking about his fetish, what he finds interesting about it. Why it turns him on, why he pursues his fetish. Foot fetish.

I look around at these people; I see them, but strangely. I don’t see how they are different. I see how each of them represents me in some way. I see how they are true to themselves. How being honest about what and who they are will get them judgment, rejection, heartache, tears and sadness. But I see that they know, if they are not honest, and open where it is safe. Then they will be unfulfilled. Their lives will lose tiny bits of who they are as time passes, their pent up energy will accumulate and break one day, or they will start screaming and kicking to get out. But survive they will, probably not if they don’t find places and people like this. People like me. Because as I don’t judge them for political, religious or sexual or relationship preference. In the same way they don’t judge me.

And I realize that right now, at this moment, sitting here behind a beautiful muscular transvestite listening to someone talking about sucking toes, and licking feet and how sexy a low bridge on a woman’s size four foot is. In the basement of a bar. I know, that I have never felt more safe, never felt no judgment and stood no chance of being forced out of any cupboard that my life’s preferences and needs and desires has given me. Than I do now. Because someone else had to be true to them self and force me into the open.

And I know. I am home amongst the freaks, the degenerates and the people that you will judge without blinking an eye. Because you don’t know them, or perhaps you do and aren’t even aware.

I am home.


  1. Beautiful my friend. I'm flattered that I too was mentioned here. Fangs for taking me to the state theater it just shows us "freaks" could be "normal" too

  2. Thanks Mell, I appreciate te kind words.