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 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.
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?
Do I have a type? Yes, no, I can’t be sure.
I am quite a slut. Walking down the street in my head I count the women I would be happy to shag. The percentage is surprising high! Age makes little difference. Race sometimes does (this really pisses me off, I wish it didn’t but we are being honest here). Something like height … no difference but size sometimes does (again something I am not proud of). Orientation, kinkyness and goodlooks have a minor impact. Gender makes some difference. I am bi but attracted to few guys. Transgenders I am also open to…
What does seem to have a massive impact is if the person is (excuse the term) a cunt. Nasty personalities are a massive turnoff. Sure if its just casual sex with a stranger this is unlikely to affect things. But if I know the person and the are a cunt it doesnt matter if they are Tabatha Coffeys twin, I won’t go near them. For anything!
Ohhh Tabatha Coffey? … yes top of my dreamlist. A strong lesbian with short hair and a pointy face? Yip 100%
For guys I don’t really know. The guy I am most attracted by looks a bit like Marilyn Manson but with muscular arms and an equally hot wife.
I usually go for quite strong women. Even if they don’t appear strong or think they are, if in my eyes they are strong it is a massive plus.
Obnoxious, pretencious, attention seeking, socialittes or princesses … no, no, no
Adventerous, nice, tolerant, open, warm, considerate … yes please
What I am?
I am man
Not alpha man
A soft, quieter man
Often gentle lamb
Yet unmistakably ram
A father I am
Twins I fathered my man!
Father and husband I am
Not husband for long, the plan
The plan? A free man!
Weird yet ordinary man
Morally grey at best I am
Too twisted for you ma’am?
I’m comfortable with who I am
You not? I don’t give a damn!
A kinky man, that I am
A kinky sadist I am
I ain’t a domly dom, man!
When I need to I can
But natural born sadist I am!!
Not bacon or bourbon man
Instead a bbq and rum fan
Bald, bearded, tattooed I am
Leather kilted, flogger in hand
Wham, wham, wham, wham!!
Night creature I am
On the dancefloor a happy man
From blues to metal a fan
Clubnight, gig or jam
Fetish events? Hot damn!!
What I am?
I am soft, gentle, quite, easy going, rum drinking, bbq eating, tattooed, dancing, kinky, bottom spanking, sadistic human.