I’ve tried to evict him, multiple times, but he just won’t leave. He pops in at the most inopportune times (like your Mother coming into your room when you’re jerking off), and he has the same effect on me as Mom seeing me whack would have.
I knew I was gay from the time I discovered my penis. I also knew I was kinky from about the same age (though I didn’t know the word for it). And I also knew it was wrong. I was ashamed and I hid my sexuality from my family, and my friends, and from myself as best I could. But I couldn’t stop dreaming about the hot guys in school (or Magnum PI) and I couldn’t help getting hard over leather and boots and any other fetishes I have, and I couldn’t jerk off without thinking about them.
I didn’t finally admit to myself I was gay until well after I started having sex with men, and I did not admit it to anyone else for quite a while after that. I just thought the world would end if I did.
Well, the world didn’t end. In fact, it got better, because living your truth is so much less exhausting than denying it and repressing those feelings. But that didn’t make that instinct go away. The instinct that I cultivated for the first 20 odd years of my life that things I desired were wrong. It’s still there. It’s why it took me so many years to admit I wanted to be locked or plugged. In fact, being gay was easier to accept than being kinky. I am jealous of people who are comfortable in their own skin to a degree that I am not. I’m comfortable around other kink-minded folk, but that 15 year old in my head is still embarrassed by it.
I’ve gone to therapy and I’ve developed strategies to cope with him, but he patently refuses to go away, and sometimes he causes me to do or say things that I regret. I’m not going into specifics, but it’s happened. He doesn’t tell me when he’s going to show up. I know it from the rapid heart rate, the sweaty clammy feeling I get, and the fact that my guts wrap up into such a tight ball you could bounce it.
There’s always that segment on “Drag Race” where Ru asks each queen what they would say to their younger selves if they could. I know what I would say, because I say it all the time: “shut the fuck up, there’s nothing wrong with us!”, but he doesn’t listen. He fears judgement. He makes me fear it. I’d really like to just say “fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke”, but he doesn’t let me.
I tell myself that the reason I don’t post a face pic on my non-muggle media is because I have a professional reputation to maintain and the kink I share here and on Twitter is not something that would be appreciated, and that’s certainly true. In fact, a number of years ago I had to remove some pics from Recon because someone (my ex, aka cunt face) sent them to my hospital administrator. But, in all honesty, a little bit of the reason is that scared 15 year old in my head. Nothing terrible happened from those pics. They were deleted and the matter was never discussed again, other than to tell me they had been removed. Still, my guts wadded up and I had pretty much a full blown panic attack. I wish I could have laughed it off and commented on how hot I look in gear, but I froze, stammering, sweating, and being that 15 year old whose Mom just saw him stick something up his butt.
I’m still working on it. It’s probably something I am always going to have to deal with, but at least I know where it comes from and how to recognize when he decides to show up. I just wish he would stop showing up.
Stay safe and stay well
-Doc