Reality Check

Did you know I fought Batman? (Name scrambled by timid publisher.)

My notes of erotic archaeological diggings into the back corners of my mind aren’t topical. They don’t necessarily reflect the needs and desires that hold me in their grip. Depending on your point of view self-examination can seem either narcissistic or necessary. I plead guilty to a touch of the former and for belief in my sense of the latter. Know thyself, perhaps you’ll manage to be true to yourself.

I know some of you enjoy best celebrations of what the ancient Romans called friendship gone mad: romantic love. Over the years I’ve celebrated some of my romance with prose so thick, rich and oily you could probably use them to bake pies. But without a passionate relationship there’s little to say. Writing about love when it is absent can become awkward, even distasteful.

So I seek to excavate the source of who I’ve been and may become. Even am, though as I’ve confessed, at this juncture in my life sureness of who I am as a sexual being eludes me. Often that is to be found only when reflected in another’s desires. Probably part of what causes me to deeply relish submission.

I do, perhaps arrogantly, hope that my self-searching will help others like myself, perhaps even those who love us.

What of all those brutal, excruciating, frightful appetites I’ve written about intermittently over the last year? Do I - you may wonder - really want all that? It depends: contingent is one of my favorite words.

Some are so physically demanding that the answer would be no. But might be yes were I twenty. Age regretfully teaches us our bodily frailty. Anything that might damage my joints is a flat out hard limit. What a young man might risk an older one wisely forgoes.

Some are impossible because they would interfere with my ability to go work. Limitations of time are so irritating.

All of them would require a top of skill and discernment. The gift of good judgment.

A few would probably best be performed with someone who feels no personal attachment. Not that they couldn’t regard me with friendship. But without a certain quality of affection that might create too much emotional confusion.

Many would actually be greatly enhanced by warm regard, tenderness. Being used by one who cares for you imparts a special radiance. That was one of the best lessons of the prior three years.

And when considering the possibility of enacting some of these things I don’t forget certain things:

• The dangerous wounds that can be caused even in conventional relationships. I found myself ‘broken’ by my love for a skinny boy I could’ve always knocked to the floor.
• My childhood.
• The distinction between desire and doability is often blurred.
The real effects of political torture, child and spousal abuse.

Reality isn’t my pal but inescapable guide.

Finding someone to whom I want to incline my head and heart would be more than sufficient to my needs. If they wanted to get more than a little wild would be a nice extra.