How do I introduce myself? How do I explain where this rage comes from? This constant frustration with everything that normal people enjoy? I lived my whole life in fear.
Fear of God mostly. My number one fear was that he would punish me. For what? Masturbating, occasional private cross dressing, putting ice cream on my asshole and letting the dog lick it so I could find out what a rimjob was like, but mostly I think my BDSM fantasies. At the same time, I was afraid of God NOT punishing me. I mean, my god, what if I was the only person that could stop me? What if God wouldn’t do a damn thing to stop my downward spiral? What if I ended up in trailer with 16 kids and a grotesquely fat wife, drinking Miller Lite, and watching NASCAR? Or, dying of AIDS, alone and pathetic, abandoned by my gay buddies? Or locked up in a rubber room, my memories of orgies slowly fading as tertiary syphilis ate my brain neuron at a time.?
And then when I realized how profoundly stupid and pointless Christianity, nay, religion is. So I became an Atheist. And I found in place of this constant fear was this constant rage at everyone else for not having the balls to grow up and stop pretending to believe in Jesus, and fairies, and unicorns. With reflection, I realized this rage was projection of my own self loathing.
For so many years I believed something I knew, deep down, was total bullshit. I wanted to put on a pair of assless chaps be spanked with a riding crop by giggling, jiggling fat women. I wanted to pound a woman in the asshole. I wanted to tie some one up and cum on their face. I wanted to be the dom half the time, and the sub the other half. I wanted to have sex with thousands of women, in park shelters, airport bathrooms, and movie theaters.
I knew that about myself, and so horrified was I by my own sex drive and sexuality, that I didn’t even do the fairly normal things I wanted to do, like back pack Europe, go camping alone, or even go to college. Had I done anything of those things I might have been a lone at some point with someone reasonable attractive, trust worthy, disease free, and interested…and if that happened, I would have gone for it…and if that happened…I would have taken my first step down a road to Hell, paved in condom wrappers and merkins.
So, the rage is at myself. I turn 30 soon. To old to fuck 18 year olds. In fact, to old to fuck anyone much under 22. Even if it is legal, I don’t feel like it is ethical. I have responsibilities, I have a family. I have a fucking Volvo. I don’t know that anything demonstrates to me my total failure to achieve my dreams as the Volvo parked out front. It’s like shrine to risk-free white breadism. There’s a stalker outside. His name is Time. He’s got a pot belly, a comb-over, man tits, and sad, flaccid, little penis…all for me. He may not catch me this year, maybe not next year, but he’ll get me. He gets us all.
I only get a few more years to pour hot wax on a hogtied, naked,writhing woman and have it be right. After that, I become to others, not so much the guy who loves the BSDM scene as “that-creepy-old-guy-who-just-pretends-to-be-part-of-the-scene-to-get-younger-women”. YES, I do want younger women, but not because they are younger. I find beauty in woman young and old, fat, skinny, and muscled like Schwarzenegger. I want young women because I was too afraid to be with them when I was young. My youth is slipping away, my chances to experience my sexuality as a young man and not just a man are slipping away. I am slipping away.
And so the fear…becomes rage.
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