Death, death go away

Whatever our path through life it is something that we all share. Life = Death. The two go hand in hand and nothing can break that link.

I was always somewhat uncomfortable with death. Growing up I never really had to deal with it. The only real experiences I had with it was a sister who died the day after birth but I was 2 years of age. Later in my teens my godparents (uncle and aunt) passed away. I was too young, innocent and naive I think for it to have an impact on me.

Not until my mother passed away a couple of years ago did death impact me directly. She was my rock and by far the biggest lose I have suffered to date. Less than a year later my father died. Less of an impact and being blunt it was a relief but still again death impacted my life. Two days ago my cousin, who I had grown up with and who was more like an older sister, took her own life.

Death is again in my life.

It makes me extremely uncomfortable. I really don’t know how to deal with it, I would rather not. When a friend experiences a similar loss I stay quiet. I stay quiet because it makes me so uneasy that I prefer to ignore it. It doesn’t mean I don’t love and care for that friend. It’s death I don’t care for.
Through all of these losses my overwhelming emotion is of emptiness. I feel nothing, I feel cold and emotionless. I didn’t cry or mourn any of these losses. Even for the people closest to me.
Why?
Why does death do this to me?
Why is this my response to death?
Why doesn’t death just fuck off!

The only time I have had a strong emotional response to death was when my wife started threatening suicide and even taking our children’s lives should I walk away from our marriage. Call it what you will but death was again being presented to me on a plate. And the idea of having death in my life again produced a far stronger emotional response in me than when death really does come into my life.

It’s bizarre and I want to mourn my losses but I can’t.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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HEARTBREAK by David Whyte

HEARTBREAK
is unpreventable; the natural outcome of caring for people and things over which we have no control, of holding in our affections those who inevitably move beyond our line of sight. Even the longest, strongest marriage has had its heart broken many times just in the act of staying together over the years.
Heartbreak begins the moment we are asked to let go but cannot, in other words, it colors and inhabits and magnifies each and every day; heartbreak is not a visitation, but a path that human beings follow through even the most average life. Heartbreak is an indication of our sincerity: in a love relationship, in a life’s work, in trying to learn a musical instrument, in the attempt to shape a better more generous self. Heartbreak is the beautifully helpless side of love and affection and is just as much an essence and emblem of care as the spiritual athlete’s quick but abstract ability to let go. Heartbreak has its own way of inhabiting time and its own beautiful and trying patience in coming and going.
Heartbreak is how we mature; yet we use the word heartbreak as if it only occurs when things have gone wrong: an unrequited love, a shattered dream, a child lost before their time. Heartbreak, we hope, is something we hope we can avoid; something to guard against, a chasm to be carefully looked for and then walked around; the hope is to find a way to place our feet where the elemental forces of life will keep us in the manner to which we want to be accustomed and which will keep us from the losses that all other human beings have experienced without exception since the beginning of conscious time. But heartbreak may be the very essence of being human, of being on the journey from here to there, and of coming to care deeply for what we find along the way.
…If heartbreak is inevitable and inescapable, it might be asking us to look for it and make friends with it, to see it as our constant and instructive companion, and even perhaps, in the depth of its impact as well as in its hindsight, to see it as its own reward. Heartbreak asks us not to look for an alternative path, because there is no alternative path. It is a deeper introduction to what we love and have loved, an inescapable and often beautiful question, something or someone who has been with us all along, asking us to be ready to let go of the way we are holding everything and everyone that comes our way, and preparation perhaps, for the last letting go of all.
‘HEARTBREAK’ In
CONSOLATIONS:
The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words.
© David Whyte and Many Rivers Press 2017

I promised myself

I promised myself I wouldn’t let myself fall in love again before getting divorced or at least separated.

I promised myself after the terrible heartbreak of losing K that I wouldn’t do that to myself again.

Last night M and myself broke up.

It’s the second time we broke up. But the first was after just a short time together. This second relationship was longer, more intense and ultimately we fell in love.

I never expected M to come into my life the way she did. She had already in my life for several years as a colleague but I never expected anything to happen. The type of woman I would never think I had a chance with. Stunning beautiful, 15 years younger, very religious, a workaholic … the difference between us are numerous. But so are the similarities and the need to have someone to share with.

It’s a relationship that offered me a welcome distraction from the drama and heartbreak. It gave me an immeasurable amount of confidence. Taught me control and to focus on priorities. And ultimately that’s why it fell apart. No matter how much we love and want one another, we both know a real relationship would never work under current circumstances. So we stopped before it got worse. Before the pain a breakup would bring became soul destroying. Priorities. I have mine. I need to care for my kids and do what needs to be done, to gain my freedom.

For now I feel like a caged animal. Living a pointless, empty life. Just filling the time with nothingness as father times clock ticks away. But those are my demons and my issues to deal with.

I vow I won’t let this happen again before I am in a position to love someone without boundaries … without restriction. Hopefully this time I can stick to this promise to myself …

Fear play #3

This idea scared me from the start. If this went wrong there was a very real chance of serious injury or death. I weighed it up for ages. Besides the element of danger existing in this scenario there was the chance that this could push her too far. Was it worth going ahead with? …
2f3
We booked the dungeon we liked. It was not in the best of conditions but it was affordable. The equipment provided was quite good, the things I most regretted was the manual hand cranks installed instead of mechanic hoists. There was a wrestling room upstairs where we always enjoyed spending some time play wrestling. I think she probably enjoyed it more than I did, it was her chance to get some revenge 😉
After a couple of hours play I told her to lay on the medical bed and I proceeded to tie her down with all the straps. Wrists, arms, chest, waist, thighs and ankles. I left the neck strap off.

I lay my head down for a second and shook off another dizzy spell. Why did I occasionally get them when we were playing? This time I was lucky and hadn’t got one otherwise I would never have gone with this scenario. This dizzy spell I was feigning, as I did the other few I had had in the hours preceding. And she was buying it. Excellent!

I lifted her head as if I was about to attach a gag or something. But very quickly, before she had a second to realise what was going on, I pulled the clear plastic bag over her head. Quickly I taped the opening around her neck down to prevent air from entering. She had no way of knowing I had cut both of the corners off the bag so that some air still got in.
She started thrashing around.
“What the hell are you doing? Are you crazy? Get this off me!!!”
“Calm down, relax! You going to run out of air quicker if you panic! Relax!” I said as I grabbed her shoulders firmly.
“I don’t like this. I never consented to anything like this. This is stupid!”
Another “dizzy spell” and I lay me head on her shoulder. This dizzy spell was longer than the others and I raised my hands to my head. “I hope this doesn’t freak her out too much!” I pretended to stumble and collapsed to the ground. Her screech was piercing! “Shit can anyone hear that outside?” But still I lay there, looking at her “losing her shit” in the mirror near the ceiling. How long should I wait? She was thrashing around screaming my name and screeching for help. In the mirror I could see the bag misting up. I wouldn’t be able to see her face for much longer. I suddenly stood up and ripped the bag open where her mouth was. As she drew a massive gasp of air into her lungs, I whispered “How is that for fear play?” and thrust my fingers deep into her vagina.
Let’s just say she didn’t take this scenario too well. Even after her orgasms had subsided I had to calm her down and explain how I had set it all up and that she was in minimal danger throughout.
Eventually she calmed and the restraints could be removed …

Fear play #2

Outside the hotel entrance I waited for her to arrive. We had stayed or rather played at this hotel before. It was quite good. Modern interiors, clean, lovely en-suite bathroom and very quite floors. The one unpleasant thing I could remember about the previous visit to this hotel was how hot it was. That was more down to her than the hotel or room. I can remember turning to her and asking her if we could doze off not cuddling because she was “like a furnace tonight” and there was way too much heat coming from her side of the bed. Strange as it was usually her that was sensitive to temperature.
Old Street, London is not the best place to be waiting for someone outside on a cold winters night. “Hope she gets here soon.” Just then I caught her silhouette coming bouncing, dancing down the street. She was always so full of happiness when we met for a play date. We walked through the front doors hand in hand carrying the big bag full of kinky toys and equipment. “Someone really needs to look into making lightweight toys. Or maybe I should just stop buying every second thing I come across.” 
As we approached the reception desk the guy behind it looked up from the monitor screen and smiled at me. “Mr TTT we have been expecting you, room 126 please.” He handed me the key and I turned to walk down the corridor. Perfect, just as I had arranged with him when I checked in earlier. She looked a little confused at the exchange between me and the receptionist but didn’t question it. As we walked past the cafe I spotted the businessman in the grey suit that I had struck up a conversation with earlier. I smiled and nodded towards him, he reciprocated back. 😉
As we approached the room I noticed a couple opening the door to the room next to ours. “Ohhh perfect!!!” “Hi there.” I said, as I walked by them. The couple turned and I met the guys eyes with “How are you?!” and a naughty wink 😉 His expression didn’t change as he returned with “Hello.” Out of the corner I saw his partner smile as we reached our door.
“Ohhh that couldn’t have worked out better!” I could literally feel my partners brain turning over, confused but all three of these exchanges.

As soon as we were inside the room, she started undressing. She knew what I liked … I lay the bag down between the bed and desk. When I turned back to her all she had on was her panties which she had her thumb in just about to take off. I had asked her to wear the sexiest underwear she owned.
“What are you doing? Keep you underwear on!” She looked a little confused as she started putting her bra back.
“Did you bring your heels?” I asked as I helped her hook her bra back on.
“I did, but what for?”
“Never mind, you look fantastic. Go put them on.”
I headed over to the bed and sat down as she dug into her bag for her heels and put them on.
“Come sit.” I said, tapping the mattress next to me.fear-eyes[1]

 

 

 

 

“Babe, you know I love you and would do nothing to harm you. Today is one of those days I need you to just trust me, no matter what.”
She looked alarmed.
“Why?”
I ignored her question. “I am not too keen on doing this. But I don’t know how else to come up with the money to pay for your £8000 credit card bill.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Just trust me angel. Be nice, smile and keep the brat away. Promise me!”
“I am scared. Tell me what you are talking about?”
“We aren’t here to play, well we are but not the way you think.”
Her expression was a mix of confusion and dread.
“We are going to walk upstairs and into a hall. I want you to be sexy and confident. You will only be wearing that underwear and the heels.”
I reached over and cupped her face in my right hand.
“This is going to be a slave auction, angel. Whoever bids the highest you will be playing with tonight. In the morning I will meet you for breakfast and we will be leaving together.”
She turned away, stood up and with an angry look on her face, uttered ” What the hell. Are you crazy? No way, forget it!”
I stood up, grabbed a handful of hair and pulled her face to mine. “Do as I tell you! You think I want this? How else are we going to pay for your credit card? I don’t want that hanging over you forever. All the money we make tonight will go towards it.”
“I can’t, don’t make me do this, please!!! We can find another way. Anything else.”
“I don’t care! We are doing this! Now lets go, it starts in 10 minutes.”
I pushed her towards the door ahead of me. I could feel the tension in her body as she was reluctantly urged forward. When we reached the door I reached past her, opened the latch and started opening the door. She moved slightly aside, away from the opening and winced.
I slammed the door shut and with my forearm on the back of her neck forced her face against the door.
“Pull yourself together damnit. Stop being such a baby! I swear if you fuck this up you are going to regret it!”
“Ok I will, I’ll be good. Sorry” She said, clearly fighting the urge to refuse and run.
I moved my arm away from pinning her to the door and used it to pull her back towards the door opening.
As I again reached past her and grabbed the latch I said gently “Ohh one more thing … how is that for fear play?”
The penny dropped. There was no auction. She whirled around as the words “Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” escaped her and planted a massive wet kiss on me.
A magnificent start to our kinky night.

Fear play #1

I had never come across the term fear play until K mentioned she had seen a performance demonstrating it. A guy ties a girl up, brings over a fire extinguisher and places it next to her. He then proceeds to play with some flames … he then blindfolds her and pours (what smells like) fuel over her. Fear play.

terrified

I didn’t sound like anything I was particularly interested in, other than as a performance piece. Not for kink play, not my thing. But the seed was planted.

As we sometimes did, we had hired an Airbnb apartment in London and were enjoying a wonderful evening of kinky play. The beds headboard was one of those with vertical metal bars, evenly spaced. At one point I dragged the bed away from the wall and told K to sit at the head of the bed, putting her legs through the vertical metal bars. The bars were just the correct width. She placed a leg through one of the openings and as instructed fed her other leg through another but left an opening between the two she had legs in. With her feet then restrained to the beds legs it gave me easy access to her vagina. But that wasn’t what I was after, it was what I wanted her to think I was after. I restrained her arms and hung her breasts over the headboards top rail. Her limbs were completely restrained and she was helpless to move away. Perfect!

I walked away and went over to my bag of tricks. I pulled out something I had just purchased the day before. Not being into fishing I was surprised how difficult it was to find a fish and tackle shop in central London. But I found one and asked the shop owner for the biggest, scariest hook he had. “It’s not for fishing.” I told him. He handed me the biggest one he had, very sharp and with a nasty barb.

I took the hook over to K but hid it from her view. I proceeded to tease and torment her before finally pulling out the big scary hook. Her eyes opened wide and her expression changed to shock as she stared at the hook being held in front of her face.
“Whats that for?”
“I want to try feeding this through your skin. You always say you want to play with medical staples. Lets see maybe we like this.”
Her face didn’t show any signs of someone curious to try a kinky new game. Quite the opposite, she looked apprehensive.
I let my fingers slide along her right breast and gently held onto her nipple. I then brought the hook towards the nipple. She grimaced and looked away.
“No! I am scared.”
“Don’t worry. I am not going to hurt you.”
“Do you even know what you are doing?” She asked.
“I had Crazy Dave show me what to do. Don’t worry.” Crazy Dave (I have changed his name for this post) is a performer who’s performances include hooks through skin and that sort of thing. We had met him a while back at a party but no, I had not asked him for his advice. That was just another layer I added for K.
“I am scared, I don’t want to do this!”
“Well, that’s what RED is for.” I knew she hated using the safe word and would often rather suffer whatever she was being subjected to than use RED. But I honestly didn’t know if she would be able to stop herself from using it now.
I brought the hook closer again and let it rest against her skin. She winced and took a big gasp of breath.
“I hope I don’t fuck this up.” I added.
She tensed up even more and pulled her face away. I felt her leg that I was resting my arm on start to shake. Not a little shiver or shudder, but uncontrollable shaking. She was petrified.
I started to sink the hook into the skin just behind her nipple. Careful to not even break the skin but enough to have her feel the hook biting. Still she didn’t use her safety word. I then realised she was prepared to let me go ahead with this. My heart melted.
“K. K.” She didn’t react.
“K. I need to say something to you.” She turned her face to mine, her eyes wet, the skin on her face ashen, her lips dry.
“How is that for fear play?”
Almost instantly her face turned from terrified to just pissed off. But she bit her lip, smiled and laughed.

… true story

I wonder …

The lyrics to the song I Wonder by Rodriguez stuck in my head from an early age. The title I find quite appropriate to my current relationship with M (New girl). Here is my variation on the lyrics.

I wonder how you really feel about me
And I wonder is there an us in your mind
I wonder if it will ever work out
And I wonder if your parents will mind

I wonder what kind of lover you are
And I wonder who you call when “hot”
I wonder just who you’ve been with
And I wonder if you sad we cannot

I wonder if you cried when we stopped
And I wonder will a third time result
I wonder do you dream like I do
And I wonder do they ever come true

I wonder why you never ask me out
And I wonder if you really just lonely
I wonder why you so happy to follow
And I wonder how far I can take you

I wonder will you always be so closed
And I wonder if you long to be more open
I wonder how many questions you have
And I wonder will they ever get asked

I wonder what you do with your time
And I wonder if you really are fine
I wonder who you love and who not
And I wonder do you care / do you not!?

Controlling my autopilot

My autopilot, my instinct, my gut … why does it sometimes betray me and some of the personal values I hold most dear?

I grew up in apartheid South Africa. At that time I was not very politically conscious, I still really don’t care much for politics. Politically apathetic at best. But as I aged I became more and more aware of the inequality between races in my motherland. It’s something I always hated. Life to me must be filled with variety and that includes friends. I befriended people of various races and loved them for who they are not the colour of their skin, the money in their pocket, their sexual practices …. When I moved to Europe this became much easier. Here there is no underlying uneasy tension in the air when two or more people of mixed race are socialising in public. When apartheid ended in South Africa racism didn’t magically disappear. In that new South Africa a young mixed race couple could now freely walk hand in hand down the street. But the looks and scowls they got didn’t change. I was quite happy to leave that shit behind. I deplore racism in any form!

Which brings me to that autopilot of mine. Say I am driving around town and there is a bad driver in front of me, making part of my journey more difficult than it should be. If as I finally overtake them and look at the driver, I see a black person behind the wheel, the little hamster in my head says “Awww fucking black person, typical!”. WAIT!!! WHAT??? Where does that come from? That really isn’t me. How can I think like that? It disgusts and distresses me that deep down in my core there is a racist little fucker!

But it’s not only racism. I am quite an old soul. Morally I am grey at best but I respect and value the older generations. I will always have time to help or listen to an old member of society. But as with the little racist buried deep within me there is a little ageist.

As is the case with the sexist me. I don’t believe I am sexist but occasionally it shows its ugly little head. A few weeks back after a club night out dancing I headed off to the bus stop. Sitting at the bus stop was someone I can met a couple of years ago but hadn’t seen in ages. We started chatting and it turned out we lived a few blocks away from each other. We went back to hers and spent the next few hours chatting and drinking. I was trying as best I could to get into her pants and was doing quite well. I told her that I had gone to a restaurant a while back and the waitress looked just like her. At that time I couldn’t remember her name so asked the waitress hers. It said … “IT?” She turned to me with a shocked look on her face. “IT?” Yes I had said it. WTF!!! Do I really objectify woman that way? **face plant** Needless to say them panties never came off and I eventually left questioning my inner self.

Discrimination of any sort pisses me off!! But deep within me there is an autopilot of sorts that can be racist, ageist, sexist, classist, sexualist, creedist … I suppress that whenever it gets triggered. But why is it there?

Time marches on

Another heartbroken night … time marches on
Another sexless month … time marches on
A holiday abroad … time marches on
A new friend … time marches on
A new job interview … time marches on
A night out dancing … time marches on
Dreaming of out of reach love … time marches on
Deadline after deadline met … time marches on
Dinner with a friend … time marches on
Domestic arguments … time marches on
Kids acting up … time marches on
Peace of mind … time marches on
Queuing … time marches on
Sick again … time marches on
Unattainable dreams … time marches on
Unending traffic jams … time marches on
Vegetating on the sofa … time marches on
Waiting for freedom … time marches on

And time marches on … another step closer to expiration

New girl

13 months on I am still heartbroken about leaving K. But I can never return to her while I am still living with my wife. Replacing K is not what I want. I want K, the relationship we had and I never want the pain of heartbreak again. But it seems to be happening …

I have know M for years. An absolutely stunning lady, the type of woman everyone’s heads rise to when she walks over to the copier. We had worked in the same company but I had hardly ever spoken to her for more than a few minutes … then one day, one thing led to another and I am starting to forget K as my mind slowly gets consumed by thoughts of M.

Mutual friends would never put us together, hell not even complete strangers would. You see we are very different. Looks wise I am a realistic 6, she is an 8 pushing 9. I am 45, she is 29. I am an hard nosed atheist, politically apathetic, a parent, kinky and outgoing. M is very religious, interested in politics, long time single, vanilla and aloof.

We had a brief 2 month spell “together” at the tail end of last year. But she ended it. Like I said she is very religious and duly principled. Messing around with a married man was too big a hurdle for her to overcome. We kissed and made out for hours whenever we were together but never had sex. So we went our separate ways, before anyone got too hurt.

Several months later we were back in touch and now several months into our 2nd spell together little has changed. We go out (not daily or even weekly but regularly), we make out for hours and avoid the issue of sex. We still haven’t, which is something very unusual for me and the relationships I have had. Can I call it a relationship? It’s something, it’s more than just a friendship.

Whatever it is it works for us. We have each other. We both have very different but difficult issues in our lives to contend with. But in each other we have a companion (at arms length) to feel warm with.

I don’t want another relationship until I can get clear of my marriage. But I don’t want to give M up. All I am left with in that case is emptiness and loneliness. And I am not a complete idiot (naive and a dreamer, yes). I realise the chance of a future with M is very unlikely, for various reasons. And if I moved out tomorrow I need to go back to K. It will probably never happen with K again regardless but that is where my heart is.

Yet here I am sitting in a coffee shop in Old Str in London on my day off waiting for M. Wondering if this will ever turn into the relationship we want it to.