This post is inspired by one written by VS in regards to the truth and from a conversation I’ve been having with NE.
Taking a break from work today, I was enjoying the unusually good weather and smoking a clove (an occasional, but important, vice of mine), when I paused by a large tree; the trunk was about four feet in diameter and a good hundred or so feet high. The limbs were thick and split several times, creating a cavernous canopy of shade and clear (if challenging) pathway to the top. In short, the perfect tree for climbing.
And I felt, for the first time since I was fifteen or sixteen, a surge of excitement – the kind you have when you do find a good climbing tree.
But I’m not fifteen or sixteen anymore.
I am often accused (by those close to me) of having never quite grown up. This stems partially from the fact that I still think legos are a perfectly acceptable gift to give and receive, partially because I am a bachelor who doesn’t always know the finer points of house keeping (not to say I don’t keep my house clean – I do; I just don’t always remember that even the guest bathrooms require hand soap), partially from my rather unique initiation into the world of sex, and partially because I am a selfish bastard.
I am miserly with my time and privacy; in my space (which means anything from my home, to intimacy), I want things on *my* terms, an affection that is somewhat responsible for my Dominating tendencies. NE has done a lot to balance this out. Of course, I know where some of this comes from – I grew up second oldest in a household of six children. I had to learn how to get off silently because, for much of my childhood, I shared a bedroom with my three brothers. Privacy and space were in short supply.
As for sex – well, for those who are caught up on my autobiographical posts, there will be little surprise in knowing that while I most likely knew *more* about sex (and all its permutations) than anyone at my high school, I had *less* actual experience than all but the most anti-social kids. This would change in college, but at the time it meant I missed out on a lot of teenage experiences.
I do not consider myself unattractive, but truth be told, my best traits are intangibles – the way I know how to exert just enough strength with my hands to make it clear I can hold someone still and yet make them feel completely safe under my touch; the way I understand certain human needs well enough to bring them to the surface with a few words; the way my intuition has allowed me to give someone exactly what they want within hours of meeting them. But in high school, without experience to hone them into a practical set of skills, they simply weren’t enough to get me to the dance on time. Of course, to be honest, I wasn’t really that interested in dating other teenagers. While my classmates were losing their virginity in the backseat of their father’s car, I was enticing thirty-year old women to meet me so I could practice spanking techniques.
The end result of which is that there are certain areas I am quite comfortable with and have been for a long time – and there are some that I am only now getting a chance to explore.
In a month or two, I turn thirty. I know that I have matured in a lot of ways in the last year and a half and my priorities have changed slightly. Now I have to decide what is important to me – who do I want to be when I’m thirty-five? I am not yet sure.
Two things I do know.
It is important for me to have certain people at my side.
And the wolf must always be restless.