A post in which I try to put my finger on the oddness of this week

It was an odd day today. I was waiting for the month to end so there would be more work. I am waiting for my doctor’s appointment so that I can have more tests done. I don’t feel overly scared – you can only run on defcon1 for so long before that just gives out. I don’t feel overly sleepy from the bp meds any longer – I’m functional. It’s like I’m in stasis. I have waxy flexibility.

I know I need to make a decision on what I’m going to do this weekend, but I don’t seem to be able to apply my mind to anything. I’m going through the motions. I called Khavis today to come mow the grass. I fed the cats. I went by to see about having a prescription filled today. But nothing seems to matter, really.

I went to the grocery store tonight after work and was just kind of wandering around. I finally realized it was because I didn’t have anything to go home to. I was trying to decide what to eat for supper. There wasn’t anything at the store that I wanted (I had a vague craving for macaroni n cheese with ketchup), and I finally went by and got an order of fries on the way home, and then finished up some leftover bologna in the fridge.

I fell asleep in front of the telly again, so I didn’t get any laundry done, although I could have if I wanted. I just didn’t seem to care either way. I ate some Oreos out of the freezer, more because they were there than because I really wanted them.

I went on to bed because the spankin boy is supposed to come by in the morning. I haven’t really thought much about sex lately, but he offered, and I’m free.

A post in which I am a bit more life-like, but not much

I heard from Russ today, asking how I was, which was nice.

I am feeling a bit more lucid, but still kind of stoned all day. Work has been quiet, which has been convenient.

I finished my book today. Snobs actually turned out much better than I thought it would. I was satisfied.

I was ravenous when I got off work, the lasagna having been inexplicably unsatisfying. I thought about stopping on the way home to have some supper, but since I had no book to read ultimately just went to the house.

I decided to do a load of laundry tonight, and I did. I fell asleep in front of the telly for a bit, but I got it done after all.

A post in which I get through Monday

On Russ's advice, I decided to wait and take my bp meds tonight. That left me a day of near-lucidity, which brought back pleasant memories.

I got the first of my set of cartoon collections in the mail today. Still no word on my painting for the living room.

I went home tonight and ate lasagna, which was actually pretty good although it could have used some more spice and tomatoes.

I tried to call Miss Kat and dana, but got the machine so I left a message.

A post in which I make lasagna

I did eventually get to the flea market today, but it was brutally hot. I wanted to make a pan of lasagna for lunch next week. I got my veggies, and then went on to the grocery store while I was out. By the time I got in, I was absolutely exhausted. It was all I could do to get the groceries in and put away.

I slept for a while, and when I woke up I got to work making the lasagna. I wasn’t sure how much energy I had, but I knew I had to have something to eat on this week. It turned out fairly scrumptious looking, although I forgot to wait to put the top mozzarella coating on, as usual, so the cheese was all browned.

I had a text from Billy inviting me to supper, and I showered and got ready while the lasagna cooled. I had just enough time for a quick nap before it was time to go to supper.

I met Russ and Billy at Ni Hao, which was as good as ever. I ate until I was miserable. They invited me back to their place, but by the time I got there, I was falling over with sleepiness. Russ says he is on bp meds and he has to take his at night or he sleeps all day, so I'm going to try that. I stayed until about 8:45, and then I just couldn’t make myself sit up any longer. I went home and collapsed into bed, as tired as if I had run a marathon. This is pissing me off.

A post in which I am exceptionally lazy

All I really got done today was sleep. dana and I had discussed possibly going to the flea market, but when I called her she wasn’t up for it. I really wasn’t either.

I slept off and on all day today. I finally figured out that this must have something to do with that new blood pressure medication I’m on. Either it’s too high a dose, or I’m just not adapting well at all to it.

dana and I had also discussed going out to the Sugar Shack tonight, but my reluctance to enter a bar period, coupled with my lethargy today, made the prospect less attractive as the day wore on. When I talked to dana later, we agreed to give it a miss.

I did do a couple of loads of laundry tonight, and changed the sheets, but that was about it. My goal was to stay up to about 11 (after all, it is the weekend), but I fell asleep in front of the TV. When I woke up, I just got ready and went on to bed.

A post in which I go out to supper

Joanne called me at work today to find out what’s going on. Apparently she was instructed to do this by Russ. Sigh. I had asked him yesterday to please keep this to himself. I talked to her briefly, and I guess I was able to pacify her.

dana came over tonight to go to dinner, which I had been looking forward to all day. When I got home from work, I did a quick go-over so the house would look decent. We went to the Mexican place at the end of the road, where we can smoke at the table. The food was as good as ever, but our service really sucked tonight. There was a new guy I guess they were trying to break in, and he was less than interested on checking on us in smoking. They had gotten a bit busy by the time we left.

After supper, dana hung out at the house with me for a bit before going on home. Apparently she also will be disappointed if I don’t go to Savannah. She and Miss Kat are planning to go. I ate some dessert and then turned in. I was beat.

A post in which I clear the schedule

I know it won’t make some of my friends happy, but I feel the need to stay close to home these days. I have already cancelled on a pool party I was supposed to attend on Saturday. My host was gracious, but I was immediately contacted by Russ to find out why. He seemed to find my reasoning insufficient.

I contacted Jo Ann tonight by email to explain that I would not be coming down for the 4th. There is quite a house party scheduled for the weekend in Savannah, but I’m just not up to it all. Adding to that would be the fact that my follow-up testing from the urologist is scheduled for the 7th. There is just no way I could really throw myself into the spirit of the thing with that hanging over me just a couple of days later, and having to lie and keep a happy face over the long weekend in a house full of people frankly just sounds like work – unpleasant work to which I have no inclination to subject myself.

dana and I have plans for dinner tomorrow night, and I’m looking forward to that. Being around Miss Kat and dana doesn’t feel like work. It makes me feel better to see them. Seeing Russ and Billy wouldn’t feel like work either. I’m just not up to facing big crowds right now.

I finally mailed Dad’s Father’s Day card today on the way home. He had told me they would call me about dinner this week, but I haven’t heard from them, and am just not up to facing them right now.

I went by the grocery store, bought more Brussels sprouts, and ate a pound of them when I got home. I don’t know what’s going on with that. I don’t even like Brussels sprouts.

A post in which I return to the outside world

I had a terrible night’s sleep last night. I was up three or four times, and lay awake mostly after 4am, but I was determined not to get up one moment before the alarm went off. That would make it all go faster, and I would have to face the outside world sooner. I had bad dreams when I did nod off.

I went to work today. It wasn’t easy, but I went. I clung tenaciously to my routine and just pretended that it was an ordinary day. It wasn’t. When it got close to time to leave, I broke out in a cold sweat all over, and my stomach hurt all the way to work.

Work, though, went surprisingly well. I was able to just use it as a distraction. I got stuck in and actually got a good bit of work done today.

I wanted to reward myself afterwards by going out to eat, but the fridge is full. Plus I really don’t need to be eating more crap. More importantly, it would have been more time out of the house, and I really wanted to get home.

dana showed up on my doorstep tonight. Just when I really needed her the most, she brought a nice delivery of common sense and the good part of the outside world. She stayed for a visit and talked to me for a while. By the time she left I was feeling much more like my old self.

I had chores I needed to do tonight, which I eventually made myself get up and see to. I cut up a watermelon for fruit this week, took out the garbage, and washed the cat blanket (which was nasty). When I finished up, I put in Kill Bill Part 1 and watched Uma Thurman kick ass for a while. That usually makes me feel better too.

A post in which I am a bit crazy*

I got up this morning and got ready for work. Then I just couldn’t make myself walk out the door. I just couldn’t make myself leave the house.

Apparently I’m repeating old unhealthy patterns from the past. I used to go into black depressions when I couldn’t leave the apartment when I was in my 20s, but I thought I’d moved beyond that.

For that matter, I thought I’d moved beyond using sex as a reassurance. I spent plenty of time reassuring myself, propping up faulty self-esteem, and proving my desirability in my 20s too; but it seems that I’m not above slipping back into (pardon the metaphor) that old pattern either.

It was a strange, disconnected day. I worked in the kitchen some. I ended up watching more movies. I spent better than half the day watching stupid MST3000 movies on DVD, which for some reason have become both endlessly hilarious and as important as a lifeline to another time. I am frantic with distraction; washing dishes, making tea, watching movies, and playing games on the computer at the same time. I check constantly for emails that I won’t feel like answering.

I got nothing accomplished today. Nothing really worthwhile anyway.

I finally forced myself to leave the house about 8, ostensibly to go buy more junk food, but in reality just to see if I could do it. I did. I even got the mail. I didn’t do that yesterday. But I was uncomfortable the whole time I was out, and when I got home I practically ran up the walk, unlocked the door, and threw my back against it inside, heart pounding.

Lori called tonight, but I couldn’t face talking to anyone. I am consumed with the notion that talking about this or leaving the house will make it real. If I re-join the world and admit that it keeps right on regardless, then this thing starts moving towards me again.

The house feels like a fortress. It’s my citadel, my chattel, the only thing I have amassed that I can call mine. It’s concrete – I can hold on to it. I feel like pulling up the drawbridge and never leaving again.

A post in which I take an adjustment day*

Which actually turned into another wallowing day, I guess.

When I got up this morning, I decided I had moved in to acceptance. I also decided that I just needed a day to get my thoughts in order and write them out. I needed to kind of get my head together before I faced the world at large. I spent a portion of the day today writing the last three posts (and this one). I'd like to be the kind of person who doesn't burden others with his troubles and will suffer nobly in silence, but I'm not. One of the reasons I have such a great support network is that I need it. If I'm hurting, I'm actually pretty shameless about it - I'll reach out and whine.

Of course I am not going to let myself die of cancer if there is a treatment. I have other things to live for. I have family who loves me. I'd like to see Cole grow up and become the fine man he's sure to be. I'd like to see Ava married, and meet the man who's going to try to tame her. There is my service to the Kindred. I've been saying lately that if I never have another partner, then a lifetime in service to the Kindred will not be a lifetime wasted. Apparently the Universe has decided to call my bluff.

I've adjusted to many indignities in this life. I suppose if I have to adjust to being an incontinent eunuch I can do that. I don't want to, but I guess I can. I can't allow myself the pablum of "nerve-sparing" surgery. I know it's supposed to exist, but I know of only one situation where it worked. That guy was not in my family. I think they just tell men that to make them feel better before surgery - to give them some hope to hang on to. I have to prepare for the worst here, and then if things turn out not so badly I'll celebrate. But right now, I have to deal in reality.

I was remembering a visit I made to my Grandmother S after she suffered from a crippling stroke. She was in rehabilitation and facing the fact that she wouldn't be able to care for herself any longer. This was her nightmare come true - absolutely the worst thing she could imagine. I was trying to put this in some kind of context for her, because she was lamenting the fact that God didn't just let her die - she was ready to go rather than endure the indignity. I suggested that maybe there were lessons she needed to learn in this condition. I realize today just how very cold a comfort that was. I received a chirpy, upbeat email today from a very well-meaning friend (he had read the Friday post) which, if I could have reached him, I would have printed, spat on, wadded up, and shoved down his throat with grim cheerfulness and determination. The ironies just abound.

I'm embarrassed to admit that I was thinking that maybe God was stripping Grandma of her pride before he called her home, perfecting her soul of faults because she was otherwise such a good Christian; and the importance of her independence was a type of pride. What a smarmy little prick I was. I'm so glad I had the good sense not to articulate that particular little brainstorm. So maybe God has decided to strip me of my vanity. Maybe my sexuality was too important to me, and so it's to be taken from me. If so, God, that's way harsh. I'm not criticizing the Big Guy, and I know there are certainly worse fates to be subjected to, but man, way to hit me where I live.

I am forced to face up today to how rooted my self-esteem and maleness are in my sexual function. I've always been quietly (and at times not so quietly) derisive of men who need big truck tires, knives, or long guns as compensation for or expression of their masculinity. I felt that I could quietly laugh up my sleeve, because when it came down to brass tacks (i.e. between the sheets) I felt that I could hold my own with pretty much anyone. Everyone didn't have to know that, and it usually didn't bother me if someone didn't get close enough to find out, because I could think if he only knew what he's missing... but I held that belief close, and it shored up my esteem in a way that seems rather pathetic and embarrassing now. However superior I thought I was, it all boils down to the same thing. On some deep primal level, I believe that what makes me a man is my dick. And the fates have chosen to just pull that rug out from under me. Would that some big ole tires would make me feel better.

But of course it's more than that. I had really hoped that I might have another shot at love while I'm here. As bad as Michael and I fucked things up, I would really liked to belong to someone again, love someone again in that special way. I feel that I have so much to give, but they're gifts destined to remain unopened and unappreciated. I've been worried about my packaging, meanwhile now I'm not going to have any content. And trust me, whatever the packaging, whatever the allure, however engaging and charming, a dickless top man is pretty fucking worthless. I can't kid myself here. I can't imagine a guy who would take on an incontinent and impotent man. If this turns out to be what I fear, then that means I'm single for the rest of my days.

Another buddy contacted me online today. Of course I let him come over, and I enjoyed myself. George had a blast. But it's kind of like partying on the Titanic (long, cylindrical, doomed, destined to go down and all).

I'm going to do everything I'm supposed to do. I'll get a second opinion if the diagnosis is bad. I'll find the best surgeon if I need one. I'll do everything I can to save a life that seems to be destined to lose all spark and zest. I'll wonder why at times, but I'll do it. And I'm sure I'll find some enjoyment out of life. I'll knit tea cosies for the poor or something that will make me feel that my life has meaning.

Geez is this pathetic or what?

***

I ended up watching Sunset Boulevard for most of the afternoon today. The movie, the making of, and a scene-by-scene commentary. Strange that I should identify with a doomed half-crazy person who wasn't nearly as old as she felt, who had an exaggerated and dramatic sense of her own importance, and who was worried about losing her appeal isn't it? I can't imagine why.

Perhaps I'll end up as a creepy old queer, running around in my dusty little mill house in a tattered jock strap, long forgotten by the gay world. Eventually, someone will call the cops and they'll come to get me from the crazy-house (hopefully I won't kill anyone with a symbolic long gun). Perhaps when those strong young men come to haul me away, I'll be insane enough to think that my glory days have returned - the admirers of old are back for an orgy. My mania will enfold me. I'll do a monologue to George as I come down the stairs.

"And after this orgy there'll be another and another! This is my life. There's only you, and me, and all those wonderful assholes out there in the dark." Fade on me, brandishing two heavily-lubed fingers at the camera.

Or maybe I'll just be burned at the stake (again ironic symbolism) after my gay card is revoked for writing really, really bad satire of a beloved gay classic. That would be short n' sweet anyway.

A post in which I wallow in self-pity*

I suppose I have entered the depression stage today. I was really wiped from yesterday when I woke up this morning. I plain didn't feel like moving. So I didn't for a while. This was kind of a segue into a miasma of worthlessness from which I didn't really arise all day.

A buddy saw me surfing online and called me to invite me over. After some convincing I went. I have to say I was royally laid today if nothing else. I hadn't really had that much fun with this guy before (generally it's all about him) but today was exceptional. Kind of like giving a dying man his last meal. George had a fine time today.

On the way back I stopped at the store and bought lots of unhealthy food: cream horns (my very favorite which I hardly ever buy), cheese and cracker Combos, mint Oreos, just all kinds of garbage. I went home and ate a bunch of it too. That was one of the things that I used to do when I was depressed, but I've really lost my taste for much junk food nowadays. Still, it was something familiar to do, and it felt satisfyingly destructive. Of course it makes you feel bad to eat all that stuff.

I had also bought a Father's Day card, since it is the day. Dad just got back from a week at the beach with Eve, Lisa, and her family, so I called first. As I had thought, he was too tired to do anything today. That suited me fine, since it meant I didn't have to shift my ass off the sofa and be sociable. I really, really didn't feel like doing that today.

I did some laundry since the hamper was over-flowing. Laundry is one of the chores that I mind least. I like taking my soiled clothes and making them fresh and ready to wear again. I slept a lot of the day.

Eventually I got up and did my cat chores and took a shower, since I'd put fresh sheets on the bed. Work tomorrow.

A post in which I am enjoying denial

Perfectly timed for my needs, Lori had planned a party at her place tonight. I slept in, woke up, put in a movie, and slept some more. Amazingly, I hadn't slept well last night. Go figure.

When I woke up I finished watching the movie I had put in. It's one of my favorites, the Joan Hickson version of an Agatha Christie book called Nemesis.

When that was over and I dragged my lazy carcass out of bed, it was time to get moving. But first I had to check email. There was a lovely email from Lady Beth. I had intended not to say anything about the PSA situation, at least until I had the results back from the specialist. But before I knew it, I had dumped the whole thing out in an email to Lady Beth. Sigh. Her plate is incredibly full - the last thing she needs is another problem. But she's a nurse, and I was pretty desperate for some kind of reassurance. I regretted it almost the minute I hit the button, but the email had already been sent. It's out there now.

I did some research online for a dish I want to make for the party tonight. Lori doesn't eat much of anything vegetable. Since I don't prepare meat, it limits the field of ingredients considerably; but she told me that she likes mushrooms, and she will eat potatoes. My idea was that I wanted to make mushroom potato puffs, but the more I read about it the more impractical it seemed:

1- They're not good cold. This means I would have to bake them at Lori's house. In addition to heating up her house during a party and the general kerfuffle of taking over her kitchen, this would mean dragging a pastry bag and stuff, and actually piping them out at her house. Way too much hassle.
2 - Piping them out with out my tips getting stopped up would require buying a new pastry bag for my old piping set. The new one doesn't include tips big enough to do this without getting gummed up with mushroom bits.
3 - I couldn't actually find a mushroom potato puff recipe. This would mean debuting a new, self-woogled recipe on company (a cardinal sin in the first place), while at the same time preparing it in a strange kitchen. Simply put, a recipe for failure.

Plus there was a simpler way to do this. I decided to do plain ole tater skins (something familiar which people would eat), stuffed with mushrooms a la Billy (to fancy them up a bit and take them out of the ordinary), and topped with cheddar cheese (which just makes everything better).

That decided, I went off to the flea market for ingredients. It was too late for glass, but I don't really need more glass anyway. I've become sensitive lately to the suspicion that I was collecting rather fixedly for a while to compensate for the lack of other things in my life. As useful as that little placebo was for a while, now that I'm wise to it I don't enjoy it as much. I'll still collect and enjoy it, but I'm going to back off on the compulsive hunting trips a bit.

I came home and baked my potatoes to give them time to cool, then cooked the mushrooms. By the time I had all this done, I was kind of wiped, and so lay down for a bit. It was sure to be a late night, and I am leery of awakening the E-B again. I'm enjoying the little hiatus I've had the benefit of for the last week or so.

I slept for about 30-45 minutes or so and felt refreshed when I got up. I hollowed out my potatoes while I watched the end of Jesus Christ Superstar on some new channel I recently realized I get that seems to cater to Broadway musicals. Superstar is an interesting little show. It is protested here every time it plays by a bunch of fundies who have never seen it (natch), but aside from it being set to contemporary music (of the time, anyway) it's a fairly straightforward telling of the Christ story. I suppose some of the arrangements could be deemed rather irreverent, but I can see that they were trying to make the story accessible. Surely anything that gets the message out should be a good thing? I did note that the end makes some rather incisive implied criticisms by juxtaposing the rawness of the crucifixion with the ceremony and show-biz atmosphere of modern worship. Perhaps that stings a bit.

***

After I finished getting ready I went over to Russ's shop to meet him and Billy for supper. MC and sa were there also, and it was nice to be asked to dinner along with them. (MC had a rather strident reaction to finding out that my blog is public, and so I have changed her reference by request).

What I didn't realize was that they had a ceremonial hair removal planned for today. sa had decided to offer MC his queue (apologies to sa - he comes from a Norse tradition, and I'm sure there is some Nordic term for this which isn't in my lexicon), which he had worn for many years, as Tribute. It was a very moving scene, and one which I wasn't expecting. I felt a bit like an interloper to be present at such an intimate moment in their relationship, and was quite touched when sa told me later that if there were any three Kindred people he would have wanted to be there, I was one of them.

We went out for sushi afterwards with the newly shorn sa, and had a grand meal where I managed not to spill anything on Russ.

Unsurprisingly by this point we were running late for Lori's. I ran by the house and got all my tater stuff. I was going to end up assembling them on site anyway, but this was still less invasive than doing puffs. I got to Lori's about 8:45, just in time to say goodbye to MC and sa, who had to head home.

I was feeling quite flustered and really wanted to sit down with a drink and a smoke, but went ahead and put the taters together first. It was really too late because the guests had already been eating for some time by the time we got there, but this was a special dish I was making for Lori and I wanted to finish it. Because it was so late, almost none of them were eaten (I had baked and hollowed out 5lbs of potatoes today, so I had quite a batch o' skins), but that was OK. Lori appreciated it, and thanked me for it. She kept some of them to eat tomorrow, and said that they were quite good. And as we all know, I am a shameless compliment whore.

Speaking of which. Nicole and Jim were there tonight. I haven't seen much of them in a while, but they are nice people, and I really like them both. Nicole is very sweet, and she is the one who christened me with my camp out name of "Story Steve", by which many people still know me.

Nicole told me tonight how much she enjoys reading my blog. Not only does this please my intellectual vanity, I'm embarrassed to say that it just always brings someone up in my estimation when they tell me they enjoy my writing. Since I (secretly) flatter myself that I'm a struggling Dostoyevsky flowering in the dark (well, usually secretly), I have great appreciation for those who recognize my unheralded genius. In all seriousness though, I have a unique relationship with my readers. Since this is a public blog I don't even know who most of them are. I rarely get comments, and so most of the time I'm not really terribly conscious of them. I think this is probably a good thing for me. It keeps my ego from growing into it's Godzilla-like potential (I sometimes think that God has sentenced me to toil in obscurity for a lifetime for my own good because I doubt that I would handle the trappings of fame at all well). At times it is nice to think about people reading my words (many in later years as a compulsory school exercise, I'm sure), but at the same time I use this as a type of diary, so at times it's very helpful to forget there's anyone watching. It helps to keep me honest. Nonetheless, I am always pleasantly surprised when someone tells me that they read and enjoy.

We adjourned to Lori's beautiful deck, where we spent the evening talking and visiting. It was a splendid-looking evening and the heat had backed off enough that we weren't terribly uncomfortable. I was able to just go into party mode, enjoy seeing everyone, and play my allotted role of court jester to the hilt; although I did raise a bit of unintended trouble by relating an email that I received after SELF. I had taken it in a humorous fashion, but Miss Kat, dana, and Billy were pretty upset about it. I tried to smooth that down as best I could. Perhaps I was more distracted than I thought. I did seem to be a bit off-stride; ordinarily I wouldn't have made a blunder like that, but it was a relatively small blemish on an otherwise lovely evening.

As I had anticipated, it turned into quite a late night. I packed up my (many) leftover taters, made my way home, and collapsed gratefully into bed.

A post in which I get some bad news

Before I get into the heavy stuff here, I need to mention that I realized today what it was about Justin and Chad's place that was so odd. It was the fact that display cabinets cover some of the windows. When you walk in the front door, as with most townhouses, there is a double window that gives into the living room. That window was covered with a huge glass display case. It's rather disconcerting, and throws you off, as if you've stepped into an alternate reality or something where the insides don't match the outsides. I found it very disconcerting, obviously.

***

Well the other shoe dropped from my physical today. The doctor's office called to tell me my blood work came back. My cholesterol is high (210 when it should be below 200) as were my triglycerides (191 when they should be below 150). Although I was disappointed and frustrated - I've been living on fucking twigs and berries for the last three months, and they are still saying less, less, less - I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised. Then they dropped the bomb. My PSA level is elevated. Just like Dad. Just like my Uncle Chris. It's 4.9 when it should be 4 or below. The doc is referring me to a urologist for further tests.

Although I was initially pretty much too stunned to react initially, I made up for it by working up a big ole head of anger on my way home. So what the fuck good does it do to try to do things right? With all I've given up, all I've lost, am I required to sacrifice my manhood too? Is that what it fucking takes??!! I raged internally.

I've lived my life trying not to follow in the footsteps of my father. My dad has multiple health issues mainly caused by his trying to dig his grave with his teeth for the last twenty or so years. I've given up meat. I eat tons of vegetables and fresh fruit. I eat a healthier diet than anyone I know. I've been viewed as a freak and squirmed as I eschewed the southern tenets of politesse in refusing to eat meat when offered (to be an ungracious guest is one of the worst of the southern Cardinal Sins); not to mention enduring the hostility and derision of carnivores with astonishing frequency. I've tried (with varying levels of success) to keep my weight within some kind of moderate range. And for what?? To be given news like this at an even younger age than my father was!

Fuck it, I thought, I'll just eat 27 fucking cows like everyone else, drop dead, and call it a damn day. What's the point? But then I thought about all those poor animals enduring the misery of factory farms, and I know I can't do that.

Fucking genetics, I thought, what good does it do to try to be smart if doom is coded into you from birth anyway? It's not FAIR! And then I thought about people with Down Syndrome, or any of the host of genetic diseases that can cause life-long misery, not to mention the little daughter of a close friend of mine who has been suffering from a myriad of illnesses her whole life. It isn't fair. And up until recently, I've always enjoyed excellent health. So then I felt like an ungrateful whiny bastard, and that always makes me feel worse.

Fuck it, I thought, given the choice of being turned into a eunuch at 42 or dying, I'd really just as soon drop dead. Honestly, that's how I feel right now. I've actually thought about this before (not in the context I did today). I have no children. I have no partner. My friends would miss me, but they would be OK. It really wouldn't be that big of a ripple if I wasn't here any longer. That's why I decided not to quit smoking. If I shorten my life (I rationalized at the time) it's really of no significant consequence to anyone but me. For what exactly am I saving up all these extra years?

I have two grandmothers braving the ravages of old age right now. One is in a home, and although I have been happy for the fact that she seems to have regained her sense of self and found a way to make it work for her, I don't think that's something I really want to stick around for. Plus she has family to come and visit her, take her out occasionally, and make sure she's OK. There's not going to be anyone to come visit me if I'm in a nursing home.

The other is still in her home. Holding on my the skin of her teeth, but she's still there. She's living with one woman coming in to stay in the day, and another at night. One of the women basically drives her crazy, but she has no choice. She has to have these people in her home day and night. She lives for the weekends when one or the other of her children or grandchildren come in to visit. I'm never going to have the money to have round the clock staffing, and again, there will be no children or grandchildren to come and see me. She's out-lived all of her friends. If I out-live all my friends, I'll be alone.

These are not late-life outcomes to which I aspire. I've always consoled myself with the fact that the men in our family don't live that long. The generally pop off in their 60s or 70s from a stroke or heart attack. My dad's dad fell from a stroke walking out of church and never re-gained consciousness. As hard as that was for all of us (I was in high school at the time), that's the way I'd like to go. No emotional scenes, no farewells, just check out. So long, and thanks for all the sushi. Not that we get to choose such things of course.

But thoughts of living the last third of my life piddling in my Depends as a sexless, partnerless eunuch frankly just drive me to despair. I know they make those pumps and things now, but the thoughts of adding the explanation of the bicycle pump I'm carrying to the pre-sex talk I already have to have when I meet a potential partner is just more than I can bear. I can't take it. When I bring up that picture in my mind, all I can feel is a immediate and complete inner cringe. As practical as I try to be, and as hard as I try to own things that are difficult for me, I just don't think that I could do it. I think I'm a pretty strong person, but I just don't think I'm that strong.

I've learned to endure the everyday off-hand indignities of being a single in a world designed for and in the expectation of couples. Yes, waiter, I'm by myself. Table for one please. No, I'm not married. It seems to be a societal tenet that if you choose to be by yourself, in spite of all the social conditioning and inherent rewards to the contrary, that you just have to endure, take the scraps that you're offered, and shut the hell up. It's a carrot-and-stick setup. If you don't take the carrot you get the stick, and you had better bloody well like it. But this too??!

By the time I got home I was pretty upset. Part of me longed for someone to call (there is no way I would call anyone I know and dump this mess in their lap). Part of me couldn't bear the thoughts of being around people right now. There just isn't any way I could be around my friends and not talk about this, and I'm not ready to do that. I couldn't face the indignity. Despite the host of affronts I have endured over the last couple of years with for the most part a pretty stiff upper lip (I whine a lot more on here then I do in real life), this seems to be the straw. My back is broken.

Before I jump off a bridge or something (mentally) I at least need to go see the specialist and see what he has to say, although frankly given my family history I hesitate to cling to false hope. I went right into denial, put it aside, and decided not to deal with it right now.

I read for a while, but the book I'm reading right now is a biting satire of the British upper-class. Beautifully written, smart and sleek, but really, viciously, cynical. I started to feel like I needed a dose of Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm and a shower to de-tox, and put it down.

I turned on telly for background while I surfed the internet for a while. I ended up watching The Incredible Mr. Limpet, of all things, on TCM.

Well at least I can take comfort in the fact that I am making the most of my remaining time by making sure every moment counts.

A post in which I have supper out with Justin

Well I won the battle today, but lost the war. When they weighed me at the doctor’s office I had lost 17 pounds. I was pretty stoked about that. But my blood pressure hadn’t dropped one iota. The doc prescribed the dreaded blood pressure medication today. I tried not to be too discouraged.

Justin called this afternoon to ask me to dinner. I haven’t seen much of him lately. He’s a newlywed, and they’ve been moving in together. It was good to see Justin, as always. And it took a bit of the sting out of having to go pick up my prescriptions today after work.

We went out for sushi at one of my favorite places to eat and catch up. I told him all about the weekend at SELF, and he told me what’s been going on with him. After we finished eating, he mentioned that we were right around the corner from the condo he is now sharing with Chad. We dropped by to check it out.

It’s really, really tasteful and beautiful; and filled with a plethora of lovely expensive things. The furniture is exquisite, if a bit crowded for my taste. But it didn’t strike me as particularly homey. There wasn’t a single thing out of place. The kitchen counters were spotless, crumb-less; the apparently untouched dish towel perfectly folded and lying at a magazine-layout-casually-attractive-yet-placed angle over the edge of the sink. I saw no evidence of food. I’m sure it was there, but it would have seemed strangely out of place. There wasn’t a single note or scrap under the carefully placed magnets on the fridge. The cushions were fluffed. The tassels were combed. The beautiful table and chairs in the dining room didn’t look as if they’d ever been used. Everything seemed (and many things actually were) pressed behind glass. There was a strange juxtaposition between feeling as if you were in a museum, and at the same time the atmosphere - the very objects in it - felt poised, expectant. It was as if you were waiting for the scene to start, but at the same time as if you were in a kind of shrine to a Home where nothing should be disturbed. I was very conscious of where my elbows were at all times. It left me with a distinctly odd impression that I can’t quite put my finger on. It felt rather like sneaking around in someone else’s home when they weren’t there. When we left I felt vaguely relieved for no good reason.

We went back to my place for a bit of rum raisin ice cream, and to finish up the conversation, but Justin had to run. By that point in the evening it felt almost as if he had one eye on his watch; the call of Spousal Duty and all that. It was good to see him, and I was glad he came, but I felt vaguely unhappy after he left. Partially, I suppose, due to the comparison between that perfect place and the relative squalor of my own afterwards; and perhaps there was a bit of the green-eyed monster at work. A part of me has always envied people who can just jump off the cliff – throw themselves into the intimacy of co-habitation with wild and reckless abandon.

This passage from Huckleberry Finn was vaguely trying to surface in the back of my mind. I looked it up later:

Huck Finn's wealth and the fact that he was now under the Widow Douglas'
protection introduced him into society--no, dragged him into it, hurled him into
it--and his sufferings were almost more than he could bear. The widow's servants
kept him clean and neat, combed and brushed, and they bedded him nightly in
unsympathetic sheets that had not one little spot or stain which he could press
to his heart and know for a friend. He had to eat with a knife and fork; he had
to use napkin, cup, and plate; he had to learn his book, he had to go to church;
he had to talk so properly that speech was become insipid in his mouth;
whithersoever he turned, the bars and shackles of civilization shut him in and
bound him hand and foot.

Of course, it's been a strange week, and I'm in an odd state of mind. And I am the last person anyone should choose as a relationship guru, goodness knows, with my track record. God bless them, and I sincerely hope that they enjoy every happiness.

By chance I wandered over to the computer tonight before bed. Lady Beth had sent me some lovely emails that made me feel much better before I turned in.

A post in which I get a lovely email, and anticipate my physical

I woke up this morning feeling a bit more stable, for which I was very grateful, but I had a vague sense of unease. I was thinking I’m forgetting something, but what is it? I know I have a physical coming up, and was trying to decide if it was today or not, or maybe next week. It was on my calendar at work, but I would be too late by the time I got there. On the way in to work though, they called to confirm the appointment for tomorrow. So it’s almost over. I have been charged by my doctor to lose 20 pounds. I’ve been cutting back, and my pants are looser, but I’ve been afraid to weigh.

If I have lost the weight, I’m afraid I’ll relax and go eat a chicken franchise or something to celebrate. If I haven’t lost the weight, I’m afraid I’ll get discouraged and eat Peru or some other small country in consolation. This fucked-up relationship with food (i.e. food cures everything) is why everyone in my family has such a hard time maintaining a healthy weight. Well, that and the fact that food is just so damn tasty.

After the work day started, I checked my personal email as I do from time to time during the day. One of the things that tends to happen after an event is that everyone emails back and forth, sharing impressions, sending thank you’s, saying things they forgot to say at the time, etc. So I’ve been following the exchange, although for the last couple of days I have frankly been too blown out of the water to really do much in the way of replies. Sometimes I have to back off a bit and wait for my words to come back, and this past weekend was a huge one for me in terms of events. Sometimes when you reach a new, higher level, you just have to catch your breath before you can carry on.

Lynn, sweetheart that she is, had sent me an email. One of the sweetest emails I think I have ever received. Lynn is one of the Kindred that I came in as a pledge knowing the least. She lives in Texas, and when she’s here, her focus is appropriately on Lady Beth, her Ma’am. Because of their limited time together, I usually try to fade into the background (as much as I am ever able to do, Chatty Cathy that I am) and let them have their time. But when I was invited to join, she really went out of her way to make me feel welcome. She came right over to me and sat down to talk one-on-one. She asked me about what my service project would be and was very encouraging about my idea. She was very sweet and welcoming to me, even though she barely knew me.

Today I got an email from her, expanding on Lady Beth’s theme about the things that I have to offer, and commending me for my submissive heart. One of the tenets of the Kindred is that submissives are not second-class citizens. We offer service freely because that’s our place, but it’s an even exchange. The Dominant offers protection and regard, and takes the responsibility for the submissive’s safety. They pledge to take care of the goods, and offer a Place. The submissive offers body and service, and takes responsibility for serving the Dominant. A submissive pledges to trust and Serve. When yen meets yang in equality and health, it is a beautiful exchange and symmetry. Of course in an ideal world, what is really the attraction and the bond is what’s on the inside. Because of the sexual remove (my being a gay man, and Lady Beth and Lynn being primarily straight women); it’s much easier for Lynn and Lady Beth to see me objectively. Unfortunately out here in the real world, there are a million little subjectivities that come into play.

Lynn’s email, though, was beautifully written and absolutely sincere to the core. She wished that I could see myself through her eyes, and indeed after reading what she had to say I wished I could as well. Or perhaps I should wish that some great guy could do that. I was deeply touched, especially after the discouragement of last night. I feel kind of like I’m trying to market a junker car at this point. I have some miles left in me, but I feel like potential buyers can’t help but ask themselves is he really worth the upkeep?

I know that I have things to offer, but they aren’t things that jump out. They’re the quiet strengths that don’t make a flash. To go back to the car metaphor, I’m kind of a sedan, and you know men just never outgrow wanting to have a flashy sports car. Think about all the crappy Triumphs they sold on that premise during the 70s. I do value myself, and I know that I have things to offer the family, maybe specifically because I’m not viewed as an object of desire. The fact that they value my quiet things is incredibly precious to me. Lynn's email, and her motivation for reaching out to me – just sincerity and caring - moved me deeply. I had to get up from my desk and get a hold of myself before I could go back to work.

***

Work itself was pretty uneventful today, thank goodness. Until I was asked out to lunch. One of our agencies has an office in Atlanta, and the Atlanta rep periodically takes me to lunch. Steve is a really sweet guy, and he tries hard; but he is surprisingly socially obtuse for someone who works in the field with clients. Our last lunch was rather bizarre. This one was a bit more average, until we started back. Riding with Steve is stressful. He’s an older guy, he’s hard of hearing, and although his vision seems to be fine he is easily distracted behind the wheel. He wanders between lanes; he misses turn signals and brake lights ahead, etc. I usually white-knuckle through, trying to keep direction to a minimum and silently reminding myself that he must have a baseline level of competence because he travels constantly with his job. (Well either that or he has a very active guardian angel – either way I try to believe that I’m fairly safe.) Today on the way there, he did the lane wandering thing (at one point we were exactly in the middle of the two lanes allotted to our side of the road, much to the consternation of the drivers behind us). On the way back, we were a cat’s whisker from being side swiped (on my side, of course) as he blithely just about pulled right into the side of a passing pickup. A last minute scream from me pulled him up slightly short. He was unfazed. He rode the center-line reflectors most of the way back to the office (blessedly a few short blocks away), the bump-bump-bump under the tires seeming to barely register on his radar. Although the lunch was good – I had made him take me to one of my favorite Japanese places near the office – by the time I got back I was ready to kiss the floor in the office atrium. I was left wondering just exactly where was the line on what I would endure/risk for a free lunch.

***

When I got home tonight I turned on TCM and watched In Cold Blood. I had read the book years ago when I discovered Truman Capote (this was one of the two books by him that I was able to find in our local library at the time, and arguably his magnum opus). Much later I was struck by the impact that writing this book had on his life when I watched Capote. Although I turned the movie on as background, I was soon sucked in to it and turned the computer off. It was an excellent film, but of course the ending was grim. I was impressed by the take the strong message the director hammered home.

But hmmm, perhaps not the best movie to go to sleep after. I put in an old Basil Rathbone Sherlock Holmes movie to quiet the old bean. While I was getting ready for bed, I reached back to scratch my back, which has been annoyingly itchy. My back was peeling, like from a sunburn. Lordamercy! I thought, Miss Kat has literally whooped the hide right off of me!

A post in which I spend some time on a discouraging Easter Egg hunt

This morning I was working under the assumption that today at work had to be better than yesterday. Thankfully, that was the case.

Tonight was the first time that I really had the time to sit down and spend some time on Fetlife. It was quite disappointing.

Since I pretty much take any advice that Ms Shay gives me as a great idea, I took it to heart that this would be a great way of “putting it out to the universe” (as she says) what I was looking for. I hadn’t realized at the time that I could just have just as effectively put a note in a bottle and thrown it into the ocean, but by the end of the evening this rather depressing realization washed over me.

The website doesn’t really have a narrow search function, so you have to look through every listing in the state. The overwhelming majority of the men are straight. There are some gay guys on there, but they are so far and few between that just finding one was an accomplishment. That’s not even taking into account attractiveness, chemistry, brains, etc. Much less my very special push-me pull-you makeup. (Gay sexually insertive submissives just are not in high demand – much less forty-somethings with fairly high mileage and what I'll charitably describe as less-than-showroom packaging.)

When I signed off, I was pretty down. If he was out there, I don’t think he’d ever find me.

I counted my blessings and went to bed. Overall, I am an amazingly lucky guy. It just seems that I'm going to be a single one.

A post in which I live through Dom Drop, with a little help from my friends

I woke up with no Epstein-Barr this morning, much to my surprise. I felt kind of sleepy, but otherwise fine.

I dropped at work today. I was expecting to. When I first started going to events, I started taking a 'drop' day off afterwards to give myself a chance to go through what we in the scene called Dom Drop. Dom Drop is what happens when you suddenly go back into the real world again after spending some time immersed in the kinky world. I kind of think of it as a reaction to having your tolerance for dealing with mass stupidity lowered and having to build it back up. If your head is on right in the scene, it effectively strips your bullshit away. You move much closer to your true self. The problems is that tu funtion in the real world, you have to have a protective layer of bullshit to help you deal with everyone else's bullshit. Miss Kat calls it “regaining your callus”. When I have described the 'nothing-is-right-and-everyfuckingthing-is-on-my-nerves' nature of the re-adjustment period to two friends of mine, they were like, “Oh yeah, sounds like bad PMS.” However you think of it, it can be tougher sometimes than others. I am prone to it. Yeah, act surprised.

The problem with scheduling Dom Drop is that it doesn't conveniently arrive when you schedule for it. What ended up happening on my vacation days was that I floated through my 'drop' day, and then didn't drop until I had to face the real world when I went back to work. I had decided to save a vacation day after SELF this year and just throw myself back into the fray. Perhaps not my best plan.

I was actually fine today when I first got in. I had lots to do, but I was prepped for that. I had two days of stupidity built up in email, but I dealt with that. I made some mistakes on my reports, but I fixed them (crabbily, but I fixed them). Then a vendor rep on-site sitting near me this week started going through this whole drama about her fucking headset.

She was working in our office this week, but had brought her headset from her home office to try to hook to her phone here. It wouldn’t work. Rather than just use one of ours, she enlisted the supervisor of the area and the IT department to help her get hers to work. In between one or another of them making yet another attempt, she would call people, put them on headset, and then spend 10-15 minutes going “Hello…..hello..…hello..…hello…..hello” over, and Over, and OVER again! Like, well maybe it didn’t work this time, but the fifty-thousandth time just might do the trick!! Moron. About the time I thought I was going to bust a gasket over that, I looked behind me at Terry (who was sitting right beside her), and gave her my “I am just about to be a guy on a rooftop with a rifle somewhere” look. Terry was also being driven insane. She just looked at me with a cute little smile and said “Steve, don’t take this the wrong way, but I love you.” Crisis averted. The rep herself was oblivious to all of this.

It was when I had a guy actually show up to my desk to debate his stupidity in person that I got a bit snappy. I had officially become Too Hateful To Live. I got back to work, and I was thinking that I could work fine if people would just leave me alone; but my spidey sense was telling me that I needed to call Miss Kat. She had told me to call her if I needed to today. I finally did. Bless her, she was in a worse place than I was! I talked to her for a little bit, trying to buck her up, but really I didn’t have much to spare today. I could tell she wanted off the phone, so we didn’t talk for very long. The rest of the morning passed fairly uneventfully. At lunch I thought only two more hours – I can do this.

Then I had a screamer on the phone this afternoon. A lot of what I do can pass for free therapy, but this woman had serious anger management issues. She didn't need therapy, she needed meds. By the time I finally ended the call (I had to just hang up - she was screaming incoherently) I felt brutalized. My head was both bloody and bowed.

By the end of the day, I was ready to crawl under a rock and stay there. But I knew what was going on, and many times self-awareness is all I need to pull me out of it. Nonetheless, I decided to get a treat for getting through the day without killing any of the people who so desperately needed it. I went to the freezer section, and they had Rum Raisin Ice Cream. I chose to see this as a Divine sign, and bought a pint.

About the time I got home and prepared to scoop myself a generous serving for supper, Miss Kat called to check on me. She had left work early and had some dana time and was feeling much better. She invited me over, and although I initially turned her down, I changed my mind during the course of the conversation. I felt so much better just from talking to her that I decided to scamper on over for a bit. A cheerful heart really doth doeth good like a medicine.

I returned home with a dramatic renewal of purpose, ate some rum raisin with a clear conscience, and turned in. Tomorrow is another day.

A post in which we are all blown out of the water, and then go home

I woke up today on point. I was determined to be on it! Miss Kat was still sleeping, so I went ahead and got all my grooming stuff done quietly. I woke her with an hour to get to the breakfast she had planned with Ms Shay. Then I was off like a shot for coffee. I had spotted the Starbucks across the street, and was there and back in record time. Sigh. I would have sworn she said Splenda. Usual protocol was Sweet ‘n Low, which is why it made such an impression. She hates Splenda. She opened her eyes just as I triumphantly dumped a packet in. It was only one pack, and there was some Sweet ‘n Low in the room, but what she wanted was Equal. I’m just not dana. The Splenda incident aside, we finished getting ready for breakfast seamlessly. I put in a wake-up call to Ms Shay just in time to keep her from going back to sleep. She’s a slugabed from way back, which I knew.

I was pretty keyed up. Miss Kat and Ms Shay have both been in the scene for years, but had just never gotten to know each other. But dana and I have had the pleasure of playing with both of them. dana was actually in service to Ms Shay for a while. Watching these two great Dommes approach each other was kind of like watching worlds collide, or a meeting of the United Nations or something. I knew I had to be as close to perfect as I could possibly be today. But it was exciting too.

When we got down to the lobby, Ms Shay was waiting for Miss Kat. At a 2-top. Hmmm. Miss Kat went on over to join her, while I waited at the side talking to Marty and Petal. When they changed tables and it became apparent that I was to join the ladies, I went on over. They were actually talking in a fairly relaxed fashion. I did interject something when I could segue or had something to add, but in general I tried to be quiet – today was not about me. Ms Shay had obviously not planned for me to be there, although she was gracious as always.

So I was just relaxing and getting used to that situation when Lady Beth, Lynn, and Bart walked up and joined us! Lady Beth has a special greeting for me to use with her, but after I joyously jumped up to do that, I was kind of at a loss. I’m sitting at a table with THREE Great Dommes. Lordamercy. It finally just plain overloaded my circuits and I had a blow out. I sat and ate my breakfast, which Miss Kat later told me was exactly what I should have done anyway.

A picture of my back that Rhonda took this morning. Truly, it was an Aviance night last night - whoo-hoo!!

After a long leisurely breakfast and a smoke, we visited and caught up with people we’d lost track of last night before it was time for Lady Beth’s last class ‘Leather Families’.

Now we all went into this class expecting Lady Beth to talk about structure, share a few anecdotes, take some questions, and maybe lead some discussion. Well she did all that, but she also went into the love that holds a family together, and talked about the sad parts of having a leather family as well. There is a cost for everything worth having, but she emphasized that the joy that a leather family brings is worth the cost. She went through a brief history of the Kindred, and some of the things that have happened in the past. She told everyone it was worth the pain because of the joys involved, but by that time I was in tears, as was almost everyone else in the family, but we were holding it together.

Until. One woman asked Lady Beth to introduce the Kindred, since we were obviously almost all there. Lady Beth agreed. As a pledge, I didn’t know whether or not I would be introduced at all, but she called me FIRST! That was it for me. I was gone. I joyously kissed her hand in greeting, and stayed by her side sniffling, eyes shining with tears, until Lynn took her rightful place. By the time we all got up there, even the hold-outs were crying. There wasn’t a dry eye in the audience either.

To top everything off, she called Adrienne up. Adrienne had been in the audience at Miss Kat’s side, and had been crying almost through the whole discussion. The emotions flying all around were just SO powerful. So there we stood at the front of the room before everyone, bonded in love, in protocol freely given; honor bound to each other through good and bad. We were all had tears of joy in our eyes. The room was just surging with love. It was overwhelming. It flooded over everyone in the room.

There was a woman at the front who was obviously having a moment. I felt drawn to go to her, but I would have had to crawl in front of Lady Beth while she was speaking to do it, and I knew that would be wrong. But the second the formal discussion ended, I went to her and asked her Sir for permission to hug her. I threw some of that love and energy at her. I was just too full. I don’t have words to describe the power in the experience.

So after that, we all kind of tottered outside, shell-shocked. No one had been expecting all that. We talked a bit, had a smoke, and tried to come back to earth. When we did, we were hungry. Rhonda and I went to lunch with Russ and Billy. There was a great little Thai-influenced place around the block that was quiet and blessedly cool. We had a nice lunch and headed on over to the hotel to say goodbyes. It was over. It’s always kind of jarring to leave a kink event and go back to the real world. But it wouldn’t be too abrupt. I had Rhondee to ride home with me, and this point frankly I was too wrung out to even be upset. I was also very tired. And we had a long ride home ahead.

We went around, trying to say goodbye to everyone. I bought a great set of wrist and ankle cuffs on sale from one of the vendors. While we were wandering, we ran in to Big Red. She was looking as stunning as ever, and looked up startled when I greeted her. She had been typing a text to me to tell me that she hadn’t understood that I was free to play this weekend because of my pledge to the Kindred. She wanted me to know that I was wanted, and that she would have enjoyed playing with me this weekend, had she known. Of course, there were Big Huge Scenes going on for me this weekend, but I hadn’t known that up front. I thought it was very kind of me to reassure me. I was very touched.

But it was past time to hit the road. Rhondee and I were still so shell-shocked from the family class that we really didn’t talk much at all. Rhonda found some CDs and put one in, and we just listened to it. I was too wrung-out to talk, and anyone who knows me knows how rare THAT is. When we got closer to home, we came out of the torpor a bit and talked about some family stuff that had gone on, but by the time I got her home I was ready to collapse. That was about the time I realized that I had a message on my phone from Miss Kat. I’d had my phone on silent from the class, and forgot to turn my ringer back on afterwards. Dammit. She had been looking for me and I hadn’t been there. With that, I felt that I’d blown being a good boy for the whole weekend. I was glad that she would soon be back with her dana.

I always feel like Sabrina (Rhonda’s partner) never sees me but for a minute or two at a time, but Rhonda released me from having to be polite. “Go on home.” She said. “I know you’re worn out.” I did.

I got home, unpacked, and went to bed. The last couple of days have been so eventful that I feel like I need some time to digest all that has happened, and kind of work it out in my head. But work is tomorrow.

A post in which it is the Main Event

Today was a more relaxed morning. I actually slept until about 7:30, which is great for me for an event. Miss Kat and I were up about the same time. While she woke up, I ran downstairs for coffee. There were two great urns of it downstairs, but apparently it was not very good. I thought it was fine, but before I got in the shower Miss Kat decided to go on a coffee run, and she brought me back coffee. Sigh. Doin’ my best here.

After we got ready we went downstairs, met Russ and Billy, and went to breakfast with them at a cute little diner right around the corner from the hotel. As we were seated, a woman launched herself at Miss Kat and hugged her. You could tell that there was serious stuff going on with her. It took me a few minutes to recognize Adrienne. Adrienne is a ‘lost sheep’ of the family, and had been heavily involved with the Kindred when I first met them, but has since drifted away.

We sat down to eat, with Miss Kat just a bit off stride. The food was delicious. I had an enormous skillet of fried potatoes, eggs, and veggies that I couldn’t possibly finish. The service, however, was pretty slow – the place was packed. So by the time we got our food, Miss Kat had to skedaddle to make the class she was teaching today ‘You: the implement you always have’.

It was a good class, and there was lots of interaction and discussion from different people. Of course most of our group was there. There was also a newer woman named Timber who interacted a lot. When class was over, I ended up sitting at Miss Kat’s feet (I had been assisting) with Adrienne. I don’t think she remembered me, but that didn’t mean that I couldn’t be kind to her. She’s a sweet girl who has had a very rough life. We talked until the last of the class drifted out.

As we went outside, Miss Kat was waylaid by a submissive and her Sir, and got into a discussion with them. Her name was Jazz, and she asked Miss Kat to play tonight. As they made plans, I thought well I guess that pushes me out of it. But I knew there would be other opportunities for us. The when might be in question, but the if was no longer out there. I decided to assist with Miss Kat’s scene with Jazz and see what happened. This seemed important to Jazz, and I knew she needed it.

Miss Kat had come out of class shooting sparks as she does sometimes. I spent some time peeling submissives off of her. The best way I can describe it is that it’s kind of like trying to intercept mosquitoes trying to get to a bug light (although it seems terribly inappropriate to compare Miss Kat to a bug zapper), but I did pretty well. I wanted her to have some space to relax. We hung around for a while and talked, and then it was time for me to head into puppy class.

Puppy headspace isn’t something that I have experienced, but I met a very interesting puppy a couple of years ago at a run in Augusta, and after reading interesting little tidbits about it in some books I wanted to know more. Also, I am just sure that Anna is a puppy. I was hoping to pick up some things I could share with her. I had seen a really cute guy on Fetlife who identified as puppy and was going to SELF. I had sent him an email last week to ask some questions and introduce myself (his profile listed him as heteroflexible, which seems to be a term used for men not prepared to own bi-sexuality)(rolling eyes). Anyway, he is young ‘un, and just precious. He did reply and very politely gave me the brush-off, but recommended that I come to class. Rhonda and I decided to go together, and we took a woman in named Vivian who was with Miss Shay.

The class was actually a bit of a let-down. There was good information there about mechanics, safety, and accessories; but there wasn’t a lot about what puppy space is and how to access it, which was what I was really interested in – I wanted to know more about the theory than the practice. But the presenter had said the class would end with both of her boys in puppy space, which I was most interested to see. I’ve noticed many times that Doms are hands-on people. Though many of them are masters of craft, they tend not to be terribly good teachers. They’re do-ers, not talkers.

The guy I thought was so cute was co-presenting. I had seen him a couple of times already during the run, but picked up a strong “stay away" vibe that straight guys sometimes get around gay guys they know are attracted to them. I was trying not to conspicuously stare at him during the presentation, but he was so cute, and he was doing part of it. I was feeling like the Creepy Gay Guy, and I hate that feeling.

When the puppy guys went into headspace, the guy I had emailed just hid behind the presenter during the ‘puppy play’ period. Actually both of the guys seemed to feel self-conscious in front of the class, although one of the men taking the class had brought his own girl puppy with him, and she seemed to be having a grand time. So it was interesting, but not all that I had anticipated. It happens. I hoped that I hadn’t interfered with cute guy’s head space.

By the time we got out of class, socialized for a while, and went upstairs for a bit of a rest, it was time to freshen up for dinner.

Tonight was the family dinner for which I had made the reservations after a great deal of research. I was a bit worried because when I called the restaurant yesterday to check the dress code for Evil Geoff they had lost our reservation. I need not have worried. Dinner at Feast Atlanta was incredible.

We had a fantastic table that was big enough to seat all of us. The service was great – the manager came out several times to check on us. The food was fabulous. The waiter we had was wonderful. He picked right up on our 'unusual' vibe and was right there with us, making jokes and really contributing to our having a good time. It was Rhonda’s birthday tomorrow, and Russ and Billy had brought some presents and cards for everyone to sign. Rhonda was right in little headspace, opening toys and things with a childlike innocent joy. Everything was lovely, and I received accolades on my selection that made all the work more that worth it. Yay me!

While we were at dinner, Bart said the nicest thing to me that anyone said all weekend. He was next to me at the table. He turned to me with a pause, obviously having something serious he wanted to say. He put his hand on my shoulder. "Steve," he said "any man who can't see what you have to offer is not worth your time. And this is from a straight guy." I was very touched.

But we had stuff to do. The dungeon opened at 10 tonight, supposedly, but the big contests for the titles awarded at SELF are held on Saturday night, and they always run over. There was a special reading being done about The Sanctuary, which was a place very special to the beginning of the Kindred; but I was never at The Sanctuary, and frankly don’t really care anything about watching the contests. I also needed a bit of time to myself before everything started. By this time, Miss Kat had confirmed that she still intended to play with me tonight after Jazz, and everything else just felt pretty much like a prelude. I knew that this was going to be a powerful scene.

All day today, I kept hearing the Voice Of God from the movies in the back of my head going ‘The scene that was four years in the making...you must see 'Miss Kat does steve' – TONIGHT!’ The word had gotten around in the family of course, and there was a quiet sense of anticipation that just seemed to be in the air everywhere I went.

I had a bit of time to myself, freshened up, and was downstairs shortly before 10, dressed appropriately (I had been told to wear something easy to get out of, and indeed I don’t have much fancy fetish gear anyway), and with the toy bags fetched from Miss Kat’s car. Miss Kat showed up shortly after 10, and Jazz and her Sir arrived about 10:30 as agreed upon. The contests, as usual, were dragging on and on.

In a way, it was awful. I really wanted to get started! But then I remembered that I’m supposed to be learning to personify patience, right? I took my place by Miss Kat’s side, enjoyed her hand playing in my hair, and was content. I was already in headspace, and the rest of the world was fading in and out. My world was the hand on my head, my very happy scalp when fingernails brushed it, and the sparking eyes of Miss Kat. I had a bird’s eye view of the beautiful clothes and shoes going by in a pastiche of Moulin Rouge-esque color and spectacle (everyone was in their Sunday Best for the dungeon and contests tonight), and people stopped to speak.

The air was full of suppressed anticipation with an undercurrent of excitement - everyone was ready for the games to begin. I mean classes are nice and all, but people come to events to play. I was flying regardless.

Jazz began to get a bit nervous. I know that feeling. Miss Kat was talking to her, and she was very accommodating of course, but after a while the wait started to take its toll on Jazz. She mentioned that she was feeling tired, and what a long day it had been. I of all people know about running your race before the gate opens. I got her an Emergen-C, talking to her about it before, showing her the package, telling her what was in it, etc. That seemed to give her something else to think about for a while and she settled back down.

Shortly after that, one of the rooms for the dungeon finally opened. Since its first come first served, we went in to stake out a space. We were able to secure a cross, which was what Jazz specifically wanted, and Miss Kat started their scene. Miss Kat took her time, warmed Jazz up, and spent a lot of time on her. I watched for a while, walked out to smoke with Russ and Carmina, went out to see the all men’s dungeon space, etc. Ms Shay had showed up at the beginning of the scene to stake out a good seat, and several other people were rather conspicuously hanging around. Timber wandered in, and I sat and talked to her for a while. I really liked her.

It seemed like the scene with Jazz took all evening! But then it seemed like it was over in no time. Jazz said "Thanks for sharing!" to me as their scene ended, which I thought was funny. "She's not really mine to share, but you're welcome!" I said with a smile. Despite the delays, the attention, and the background, I was surprisingly calm. It was like when I had the service date with Lady Beth. I knew I was safe and loved, and that Miss Kat wouldn’t be upset with me if I truly did my best. Ms Shay pulled me to the side, and said “You can do this. You’re fine. Relax – and enjoy it!” I stepped up, prepared for just that.

The dungeon was really crowded, so we had to go right into scene lest we lose our place. Because the full dungeon wasn’t open tonight, the place was a zoo! Everyone wanted to play, there wasn’t enough play space, and even those that didn’t want to play were milling around watching and chatting. To make things worse, we were playing on a double cross (two crosses that lean against each other, so the subs are facing each other). There was a girly-girl on the other side of our cross at one point, making little mewling noises that I didn’t much care for. There was a big ole dyke in the back corner singing “I’m an ole cowhand..” at the top of her considerable lungs as she flogged a girl on a spanking horse. Funny, but not terrific atmosphere.

I had tied my purple bandanna into a blindfold earlier, thinking that I might need it or that Miss Kat might want to put it on me. She didn’t. About the time I got up there, another big ole dyke got up on the other side of the cross – much better. Good to have a sister there. As we were both preparing for our scenes to start, the music went off. “I know,” she said. “We’ll sing show tunes!” and launched into "The hills are alive.." from the Sound of Music. I was just going in to Edelweiss when Miss Kat said, “That would be a hard limit!” never batting an eye. OK now that’s funny.

Miss Kat didn’t put the blindfold on me. I laid it in the crux of the cross in case I needed it later. I didn’t. Within the first couple of strikes, I was in headspace, which frankly Miss Kat had been setting up all day. How do you describe transcendence? Miss Kat and I have a bond, and it was really no effort to reach that place where there was just the two of us. The family members that were watching were in the background, but barely discernable in the moment. I flew, and we fed on that flight, on each other's life force and energy. We laughed, we talked, and we soared together in that great way that you do in a really good scene. I didn’t go on a journey as I do sometimes, because she checked in with me regularly, holding me there with Her – and that was great!

When asked, I requested some good hard flogging for dessert. She graciously said yes. And that was when I really got to the place. The good growly place when it’s all about the intensity between the two of you – when your every cell of your body feels alive, and you can shed all your inhibitions, forget the rest of the world and just exist in that one hot, exciting, primal moment – that place beyond words. I was almost there, but I had one more mile left in me. Miss Kat asked Billy to step in and finish me off. She’d been playing non-stop for almost three hours at this point. It was fine. She was right there. I was still Hers. And Billy is part of our family. It was right.

Billy fell on my back like a hurricane that had been waiting to break – like something wild. He had been watching the scene, and was surfing on our headspace and energy. I love a good hard flogging, but Billy was fresh, and at this point I was just about done. I’d spent about an hour being worked by a great Domme already. Suddenly, I was done. I was thinking hold on Billy, you’re just here to scrape the sides of the bowl – there just isn’t that much left!! Just as it became almost overwhelming, Miss Kat ramped him down.

She did some aftercare on me. Not much, because I didn’t need it. We were both still high on the scene. I joyfully pressed my face to her feet in gratitude, and reveled in the fact that I was the luckiest boy alive. When I went over to the side to dress, still kind of in that half-drunk space, Wilenda scooched in behind me. “That was so hot to watch!” She whispered sexily. All I could do was grin like an idiot. We went outside to smoke and talk to people for a bit, both of us still kind of silly and half-way disconnected from the world the way you are afterwards. We eventually drifted up to the room, had a snack and something to drink, and went on to bed. It was quite an evening.

A post in which Miss Kat arrives

I woke up this morning at the crack of dawn, of course. I milled around for a while and was actually able to go back to sleep for a half hour or so, which is very rare for me.

When I really woke for the day, I just lay in bed for a while, thinking fuzzy morning after thoughts. Shameless creature that I am, I took out Wilenda's praise from last night and enjoyed it for a while. I thought about the scene with Lady Beth, and how good she was to me. I had one last little waft of her scent on me, and decided not to shower until later in the day. While I was thinking about the scene last night again, a thought slid across the back of my head. Hmm. I had underestimated Bart.

Probably because he was trying to articulate something new, he hadn't had the words to say that he had felt the subtext energy going on between Lady Beth and myself last night, and in truth he would really have had no reason to feel it. Lady Beth knows my history, and she knows about the Great Truths I've dealt with in the last year (hell, in the last month or so, some of them). When I play with her, of course there is the surface level of play. The scene was fun, and we laughed together; but at the same time, there were big fish moving in deep waters. I thought that was very perceptive of him, and resolved to share it with him when I saw him today. I know what it's like to be new to the scene, and I wanted him to get credit for that. It was pretty cool that he picked up on it.

Rhonda and I went down for breakfast, eventually. We had to be up and around today. Lady Beth's first class was at 9:30am (!!) this morning. A lot of people show up on Friday, and of course usually later in the day, so it was a crappy time, but all of us that were here were of course going to be there. We ate at a little two-top, just us, and then went outside to smoke before class.

I was headed in on a fairly urgent potty-run that I had limited time for when of course I ran into Bart. I did stop him and told him what I had worked out in my mind this morning. Of course he wanted to discuss it, and made a startling confession to me. I was at once honored to be trusted, and kind of stunned. But there was just no time. I felt bad for cutting him off, but really, I had urgent matters to attend to, and class was in about ten minutes. Talk about choosing the wrong time - geez what was I thinking! It just had to be put off until later.

Poor Lady Beth. The first class. The room they put her in was across the hotel from the other events, and I wasn't the only one that got lost and ended up coming in late. There weren't enough chairs in the room, so the staff was dragging in chairs while she was presenting. There were two guys back sitting near me from the Jurassic Leather Contingent who just showed up to 'correct' the things she was saying (I mean, the class was on 'Are You A Leather Spirit'. These guys had put Moses in a leather jockstrap apparently - why were they there??), or add numerous irrelevancies that kept taking the discussion off track. I hope that I shall always be properly respectful of my elders/superiors, but really I thought they were pretty disrespectful for Old Guard leathermen. Despite the numerous distractions and one stunningly inappropriate comment which I will not disclose here (sorry), Lady Beth, steel magnolia that she is, was grace under pressure personified, and pulled it together into a pretty decent class. I think the ones that were there for the right reasons took something away from it.

***

When we came out, I saw Big Red. She looked AMAZING! I mean, she's beautiful anyway, but she was steppin OUT for SELF this year. I had been on protocol to have her bandanna with me the next time she saw me, but I didn't have it in my pocket - I had left it up in the room! I greeted her and explained, but she still told me I was a good boy. It was really good to see her. When she started talking to someone else, I ran up to the room and put it on, but by the time I got back down to the lobby she was gone.

***

Rhonda and I milled around for a bit before our next class, which was 'Naughty Boys and Girls: School Scenes'. Of course since the presenter was a powerful woman, I was into her. But I was on protocol to Miss Kat this weekend. dana couldn't be here this weekend, and she was trusting me to be sure her Lady was cared for properly. I went on in to class, put my phone in 'vibrate' and just decided I would have to leave class when she got in.

Sure enough, just as the class got going, I vibrated. I switched bandannas (to purple for Miss Kat), and left the room as quietly as possible. Fortunately, she saw me through a window and called me out to where she was with her phone. I got her bags out of the car, up to the room, and she went down to register, sending me back to class.

Back to Naughty Schoolboy class, no less. I figured I was In For It. As it happened though, when I got back there was another naughty boy up there already getting punished. Whew, I thought as I sat down. About that time, Petal raised her hand. Rhonda and I had gone in to class with she and Marty, and they were sitting in front of us. "Teacher," said Petal "She pulled my hair!" Uh-oh. Over came the schoolmistress. "Did you pull her hair?" She demanded of Rhonda. Rhonda shook her head 'no'. "Are you telling me the truth?" she asked again, a bit more stridently. Rhonda again shook her head 'no'. "Telling lies?" replied the Schoolmistress, taken aback. "Go and stand in the corner."

Now I know Rhonda is a 'little', and I've seen her in little head-space before, but when she walked by me, she was about six. The unusual thing is - so was I. I was right in little head-space with her. That was unexpected. The Teacher, having properly punished the naughty boy (who had been waiting all this time), dispatched him to his chair, called Rhonda back out of the corner, and recommenced the class. "And you," she said, approaching my chair "were you late, coming to class?" "I was on protocol Ma'am." I said feebly. "Very well." she intoned, in an excitingly stern manner.

She addressed the class. "You can see how, with a minimum of props, you can create a school room scene - it's about your imagination." "I see it Ma'am," I said, speaking up. "I have to confess I was right there with you." "I know," she replied, tipping me a knowing little smile. "which is why I wish I knew you better." I love kinky classes. :)

***

When I got out of class I went and found Miss Kat, spending some time socializing with her. Lady Beth took Rhonda to check into her hotel. She had stayed with me last night, but Miss Kat was staying in my room the rest of the time.

Before I knew it, it was time for supper. After talking, Miss Kat and I decided to head out for sushi. I love Ru San's, and try to eat there every time I'm in Atlanta if at all possible. It was only a couple of miles from the hotel. Of course that was in Atlanta Friday evening traffic - YIKES! By the time we got there, I remembered why I live in Greenville. There is just no way I could do that every day. We had a great meal though.

When we left, I decided to suggest going out for ice cream. I know Miss Kat loves it, and my two-week craving for rum raisin apparently just isn't going away. According to the mio, there was an ice cream place just a couple of miles from where we were. "It'll be like an adventure!" I said. Famous last words.

I began to realize I was in over my head when we headed into downtown. When we first got to the street, we passed the place the first time. After about a half hour of maneuvering through one way streets, construction, and a road closed by a bus fire and a five-car pile-up, we got to the right spot - to find that the place was closed. I decided to just find Peachtree St and cruise back towards the hotel. "There's bound to be a place on the way." I said with flagging optimism. But we couldn't find Peachtree. The close quarters, small space between streets, and proximity of the huge buildings was making the mio nuts - it was calling out contradictory directions, seemingly at random.

At this point, we stumbled across The Varsity, which is an Atlanta landmark of course, and one Miss Kat had not yet visited. "How 'bout a milkshake?" I asked. I was a bit frayed at the edges at this point. Miss Kat was obliging. When we got inside, they actually had an ice cream counter, which I had not remembered. So sometimes serendipitous fate just provides. There was no rum raisin, but the mint chip was almost as good. Frankly at that point I would have settled for vanilla.

By the time we got back to the hotel, we were both pretty wiped, but I had an errand of mercy to run for Lynn. We went over to Lynn and Bart's room and hung out with them for a bit, then headed back to our room so they could go to bed.

It was a really relaxed evening. We were both kind of over the crowd/city thing, and just stayed in the room and talked and visited. If we hadn't taken that time I probably wouldn't have gotten up the courage to do what I did.

Ms Shay had put the thought in my head two weeks ago. "I think you need to ask Miss Kat to play." She had advised. "I think you're ready for it now, and I think it would be good for you. And when you do," she said, grinning "I want to watch that scene." I had been turning it over in my head for the last couple of weeks, wondering if I could do it or not; but when it came up it wasn't as hard as I had thought it would be. "I've been waiting for that," Miss Kat said in a calm matter-of-fact manner. "I think you're ready now. I've been watching you play with this person and that; and waiting for the time when you became a bit more discerning. We'll see if we can work this out for tomorrow." And that was that. It was on!

I was expecting to be terrified, but I wasn't. It seemed like such a natural thing. I love Miss Kat. She's my mentor, my protector, and my dear friend. I'm not afraid of her. I'm secure enough in my experiences that I think I have something to give back. Plus by this point I was just too tired to stay awake and worry about it. I turned out the light, said goodnight, and was asleep almost immediately.

A post in which I am granted a great and completely unexpected honor

It was a gorgeous morning. I had remembered to turn off the alarm, and actually got a pretty good night’s sleep, amazingly for me before an event.

When my eyes opened, though, I got moving.

First I glazed the cake. The last time I did this glaze I ended up with a Shrek cake that tasted fine, but looked like kaka-doodie. I trusted my instincts and veered from the recipe this morning, despite the time constraints. The cake turned out gorgeous. It’s the prettiest one I’ve made since Miss Ruby died last summer. That was a great relief. I thought to myself, well if a pretty one was going to come out, this was a good time for it to happen. Then all I had to worry about was the other 2,000,000 things I had to do before I could leave town.

Having attended to those, finishing packing, loading the car, getting myself ready, and packing up the cake, I was off.

I went by the shop to drop off the cake. I had told Eve I was making it for her, and I was, but I also just couldn’t let Lisa be trapped for a week at the beach with them without at least the promised chocolate cake. Although it rushed me for time, I am really glad I made the cake. I can leave town with a clear conscience. Plus it would just have seemed so wrong to leave for a leather event with a broken promise hanging over me!

I picked up lil Rhondee and we hit the bricks. She’s my traveling companion, and it just feels natural to have her in the car with me. Since this is the third time in three months, that road to Atlanta is getting pretty familiar also. We stopped at a Chinese buffet we like for lunch, and headed on in to town. Unlike last year, the mio took me right to the hotel; the first time - which was pleasant.

We got the checking in done, etc, and just laid around for a while in the room. I was actually pretty whooped just from all the prep. Thankfully my E-B has backed off, which is a mercy. After resting for a bit Rhondee when on downstairs to smoke, and I got curious and followed her shortly after. I just hate the thoughts of missing anything at SELF. Kinky people are so interesting. We milled around and greeted people we knew, eventually running in to Lady Beth, Lynn, and Bart.

Lady Beth of course is our beloved Matriarch, Lynn is her girl, and Bart is Lynn’s beau. She brought him along to SELF this year so he could get a taste of the life. Apparently he’s kinky, but hasn’t really been a part of the community previously.

We eventually all ended up at supper in a nice little pub near the hotel. Lady Beth and I went out for a smoke and a break and were talking. She asked me to play!! I was AGOG. But of course I said yes. She had mentioned it in passing before, and I had done an email to her at her request on play experiences, preferences, etc. She had told me that we would play at some point, but frankly I hadn’t expected her to have the time at SELF. She’s a very important Lady, not just to our family, but to the community; plus she has very limited time with Lynn, who lives in Texas. For her to single me out for attention at such a busy time was a great honor and compliment.

When we got back to the hotel, we were all milling around and visiting. Lady Beth prepared to go upstairs, looked at me, and said “My room, 9pm.” We had already talked about the fact that Lynn and Bart would be there, which was no problem for me.

I went up to the room, took a cool shower, and collected myself a bit. I’m a lot less nervous before scenes now, but there’s still that frisson of fear/anticipation/excitement before a scene. Especially a scene with The Matriarch! Who is a sadist! But I know, love, and trust Lady Beth. I knew in my heart it would be fine.

And it was. It was a lovely, affectionate, and loving scene. She did play with me, and she hurt me, but she gave me a lot of what I like too. The hotel room made the scene surprisingly intimate and relaxed. I had previously played mostly in public play space. Lynn was very sweet too, and took part in the scene, talking to me and such. She was very gracious. I’m glad she was there. She’s been Lady Beth’s girl for eleven years, and it just seemed right that she was present.

Afterwards, Lady Beth took a little time with just me, to do some aftercare and just love on me a bit. I was on cloud 9 needless to say. Then we went back to Bart and Lynn’s room for a visit and a talk. Bart was full of questions and comments. As I say, he’s fairly new to the scene, and new to public play.

He made the comment that there was something he felt he missed in the scene. He was having a hard time articulating it, and ended up kind of leading us to a distraction, saying he had been prepared for the scene to go into humiliation play – certainly a hard limit for me, and something that Lady Beth patiently explained that she could never do. It’s just not her style. I was pretty flummoxed at how he came to that conclusion.

***

While we were talking, Lady Beth decided to teach me a lesson. While we were in the lobby tonight after dinner, she had seen a beautiful gay leather man. There was a small group of them there, starved and exercised into matching clones of lean perfection. “You should go talk to him.” Lady Beth suggested. “Lady Beth,” I explained “those guys are completely out of my league.” But bless her, she loves me, and thinks I’m great, so she just thinks everyone else is going to think so too. I tried to explain it to her. So I’m talking about the way the gay world is structured, according to a strict hierarchy of attractiveness. One of the chief grades on the scale is body fat percentage. Let’s just say I am over the 2% ideal that it takes to remain in the upper echelon. Lynn chimed right in with Lady Beth. “But you have such good energy, and you’re such a sweet guy!” “That doesn’t matter;” I explained. “They care nothing for content. It’s all about pecs and abs, neither of which I have.” Well actually content does matter to some extent, but you have to pass the packaging test first.

“I’m going to teach you a lesson,” Lady Beth said. “Stand here.” She stood me up and leaned me against the entertainment center. Then she knelt beside me. Even as it was happening, I couldn’t believe it was happening! Gob smacked doesn’t even begin to cover it. Lady Beth said not a word, but knelt beside me in complete silence. I had no idea what to do. Should I touch her? I did, resting my hand on her shoulder. Oh my God that seems so condescending! I moved my hand. My brain was on melt-down. All I could hear in my head was wrong, wrong, WRONG! Deer in the headlights doesn’t begin to cover it. I felt like a flea in front of a steam-roller. Eventually, among the defcon-1 alarms going off in my head, a little thought came through OK, I can’t move her. How can I make this right? With great relief, I just knelt down with her, at which point she and Lynn burst into laughter. But man, did I feel relieved.

I told Miss Kat later that had I called Dionne’s Psychic Friends, and they had told me that before the weekend was over that Lady Beth would kneel beside me, I would have made them refund my money. But the lesson about the power of offering submission is indelibly burned into my mind, I have to say.

***

When I got back to the room, Rhonda was getting ready for bed, but we went downstairs to smoke and say our good nights before we turned in. It was a lovely evening. The heat had burned off from the day, and the evening air was soft and humid as only a warm southern night can be. I didn't really talk much. I sat and smoked, and thought about what a lucky boy I was. As I sat outside smoking, I realized that I had a bit of Lady Beth's perfume on my face. If I turned my head quickly, I could get little wafts of her scent. I sat there looking like an idiot, turning my head suddenly to get little whiffs of her.

As we went back inside, we stopped to talk to Wilenda, another Kindred member. I love her. She's a petite little blond with three children and a tender heart the size of a Toyota. I had tried to do a little favor for her to hopefully help make her trip better, and she complimented me on my thoughtfulness. How like Wilenda. She knew that I'm challenging myself to lead with my heart, which is why I did it, and that's what she commended me for. When I serve the Kindred, I feel like a child wanting to run in from school and say "Look at the pretty picture I made!!" Wilenda told me that my picture was pretty tonight, and it made me feel fantastic. I know this shameful desire for praise needs to be tempered at some point. Service for the sake of service should be reward enough, but I reveled tonight in her praise.

But I floated on back to my room and went to bed. I fell asleep with a heart full of gratitude, happy little tears soaking into my blindfold. Happy, happy, happy steve.

The night view from the hotel portico, where we were smoking. It was quiet and peaceful at this time of night, with pools of light softening the darkness.