A virus in my city

There is an nasty virus spreading across London Town. You may not see it. It disguises itself well. It is hip, happening and the kids (young and old) are all signing up.

It has taken that beautiful antique table, the patinaed typewriter on the table and the rusty bicycle on the wall and sucked all the appeal out of them. You see this virus is quite the leech. Its sucks the beauty out of architecture, books, fashion, menus … the list is endless.

Taking key pieces of something and placing it perfectly opposite a different piece of something unrelated, but equally beautiful so that the juxtaposition between the two is perfect no matter how crappy the lens of the bright eyes tourist is.

The not so delicate, amazingly creative grunge gets replaced by the soulless manufactured grunge coated in just the perfect amount of scuffs.

And slowly my city rots. It rots as gallons of beard oil seep deep into its soil. It rots as the creativity washes away, pushed out to somewhere affordable.

Another boutique clothing store who’s single pair of vintage twead trousers carries a price tag that could provide the annual nourishment for the extended family of the miserably poor Turkish villager who’s hands created them. Another ethically sourced ingredient’d menu appears with words most good dictionaries would struggle to stomach. Another rockabilly girl parks her designer bicycle in a colour that the factory stopped producing back in the 50’s and sits down on an old school bench that has been repurposed by the restaurant owner handing her Canadian Arctic water. Another tear falls down my cheek as I sit on the bench opposite her in my new trousers and look down at the new menu.

My type

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

Control through fear

This is one of the default setting my wife and mother of my kids employs in the day to day running of family life.
She is a lovely, very hard working person. Stereo-typically oriental personality I guess you could say.
All the positive personality traits are however coupled with several negative (standard issue human). She is a control freak and has always had a temper. I have learnt to dampen the bad temper when it makes an appearance and we as a family have learnt to deal with it. But there is no denying there is an element of living in fear, and of her using it to control things.

An obvious one (directed at me) was the “…if you leave the next time you see me and the kids will be at our funerals…” to stop me from moving out!
The not as extreme (directed at the kids) “…if you don’t do ________ I will hit you…”
My daughter who volunteers at the local petting zoo every weekend and lives for her volunteering day, was recently inconsolable when she was told “…if you don’t do _____ you can never go to the zoo again.”
There are tons more examples of various degrees of gravity that I can’t think of right now.

None of these consequences are every usually carried out but I cannot comprehend why on earth someone would deliberately threaten things like that just to get things done the way they want them done.
One of the biggest reasons I haven’t left yet is not being able to leave my kids in this environment. I am not saying it would be a bad environment (she is usually a good person and good mother). But there would be occasions when the monster comes out, and what if I am then not there to mitigate? My son is soft and calm and he will “conform” but my daughter can be stubborn and hard headed. When mother and daughter collide it’s dramatic and neither gives an inch. I fear what could happen if I am not there. I fear …

A Sadist Looks In A Mirror

The term sadist, I hated at first. Cruel, grim, tough, dangerous, harmful  … does not define who and what I am! I failed to see the beauty in the term “sadist”. I was seeing it the way someone outside the kink community sees it. “Sadists” bring Nazis, murderers and all kinds of human garbage to mind.

It has become a term I cherish, for at least in one aspect of my life it defines me very accurately. What is a sadist, in the kinky sense of the word? Simply, someone who derives pleasure from inflicting pain on another. I don’t expect the majority of people to understand. That’s ok, it’s not for the majority of people. I get that. How can someone get turned on and enjoy hurting another? How can you disrespect and treat someone so badly as to inflict suffering and pain on them just for your sexual gratification? I have cared for and often loved everyone I have “played” with. Anyone I have played with has consented to these sadistic acts I performed on them. Most (all, I hope) derived pleasure from the acts themselves or / and the results of those acts.

Bdsm was something I was turned on by from an early age. It took me a long time to gain the courage to enter that world. Turned out there was very little to be apprehensive about. Everyone was so welcoming and it was so very easy and chilled. I felt like finally coming home. But the first time I played with someone I didn’t feel comfortable. My second playmate became a more regular partner. I started feeling more comfortable. Then I fell for a masochist. She completely changed my world. We fell in love but even without that she helped me open up to my inner sadist. Love and trust helped me and us to explore this world of bdsm deeper and deeper. I have no interest in becoming a student of the lifestyle. Not interested if my technique is correct or what I should or should not be doing … I did what came naturally, what I wanted to, the way I wanted to … Sometimes it was like walking on ice but that’s what playing on the edge is. It was magnificent. I was born again if you like.

There is a title I do not go by and that people often associate with me. That term is dom. Dominant. That I feel I am not. Sure you can be dom and a sadist, am many usually are. But I am not. I am sadist … not domly dom dom … Not naturally anyway. I can be if the scenario requires it and its not too uncomfortable a push getting me there. I will not have you crawling around on all fours, calling me sir or master, kissing my feet, performing humiliating tasks. NOPE. Restrained (even contorted), screaming out (even crying) as your mind gets overwelmed by pain and waves of pleasure, finding new ways to push you to the very edge and dangle you there before allowing you release. Yes, yes, yes. That’s me.
I have been with a submissive partner who I have sensed has paused and is awaiting my instruction … waiting to be told … to be commanded … Siiggghhh … really? Arrrghh, I hate the pressure. Now I need to come up with something good. Damn can’t we just have sex instead? Oh wait, I am in charge. Get over here! … haahaahaa.

Go give your local sadist a big hug.
We don’t bite … well, unless we really, really like you 😉 :p



I am

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.


Shredded heart

When I met you, all I wanted was one night
Being honest, didn’t think I stood a chance
Way too gorgeous, but I had to try my luck
No one nighter, but the start of so much more

That short year, you gave me the time of my life
Unrestricted, every second was a highlight
So much passion, what you gave me changed my life
I was whole again, days full of wonder, fun and love

Honest and open, traits that rarely defined me
But in your arms, completely truthful I became
You beside me, I was who I always longed to be
The new me, a man proud, strong and free

But the day came, a perfect union blown apart
Deep in my gut, I knew it just had to end
My hands shaking, telling you we couldn’t be
Gigantic tears, instantly shredded up my heart

One year on, lost love still haunting me
Miss you daily, but I know it was no mistake
Had to step back, let you live, love and be safe
Fighting demons, a lonely journey I endure

Lonely drowning, a shadow of whom I’d been
Can’t explain it, doesn’t make much sense to me
I keep on trying, hoping one day I’ll be free
Don’t forget me, but goodbye … fair well … cherie

forgive me angels

To my children

I hope that one day you can find it in your hearts to forgive me.

Forgive me for the uncomfortable and tense home life you have been subjected to over the recent years. You are the completely innocent victims of a marriage falling apart. You in no way deserve to listen to the late night fights in the other room.

What you have experienced I know will always live with you. Hopefully those wounds heal well and the scars are not too ugly.

All the days out and trips away that we should be taking but can’t because I have no desire to take part in any family activities. I promise you it has nothing to do with either of you. You know that, don’t you? I would love to be exploring the world with you.

I never was the father you deserve. Sure I am the fun, easy going, always there for a laugh parent. But I know when it come to your formal education and your day to day health, I was never the parent you needed me to be. It’s a good thing your mother was there for those things and she did a very good job at all those aspects of your lives. I knew I was never the father you deserved long before any of this divorce business started.

I try to make this as easy on you as I can, but I know you are hurting. I love you and will always love you, no matter what path our lives take.

I won’t blame you if you exclude me from your future for what we are going through now. Just hope you understand and maybe one day, you can forgive me.

We will always have Berlin

That Berlin trip
My dream come true
It was heaven for me
I hope it was similar for you

Waking up next to you day after day
Your beautiful face wrapped in white linen
It was so effortless, so right … perfection
A glimpse into a future life together

Hardly any sights taken in
Just us together wondering the streets
Enjoying just being a couple
Two lovers sharing everything

The laughter, the love, the sex, our souls united
No one will ever take that away from us
We discovered just how perfect we were together
No signs of the heartbreak that was to follow

Those memories that will never leave me
A city that will always scream your name
In these dark, sad, heartbreaking times apart
We will always have Berlin, my love

Lonely, broken, desperate

How can a 44 year old father and husband feel so lonely?
A marriage that is disintegrating and I have lost all interest in.
Walked away from a loving, healthy & positive relationship.
Having friends who have got fed up listening and turned their backs.
Living in one of the most amazing cities but emotionally coldest.
Finally finding the lifestyle that I always yearned for but left it behind.

I wake up, I cry for her inside, I try not to show my sadness to my kids, I commute on crowded trains, I try to focus on work, I try to write something here or in a diary, I commute home, I try enjoying some time with the kids, I try make the evening pass quickly, I lay in the bath thinking of her, I fall asleep think of her

Repeat … Repeat … Repeat
Loud music to try drown everything out
Occasional breaks with friends, dinners & dancefloors
I not alone but I am so lonely
Hope I don’t break but I am broken
Desperately trying but desperately lost

Meek inheriting nothing but pain

The phrase goes “Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth”.

Really? I have to disagree. I am one of those fortunate characters and I assure you the plight of the meek is not one of the glorious chosen.
Being quite in the background in the shadows gets you very little. It’s a very lonely world, the world of the meek. You constantly feel like people are pushing past you or not even acknowledging that you are there.

A dear friend of mine suffers from similar characteristics. She once said to me “It’s easier letting others make the decisions for me”. I know just what she is talking about. In her case the biggest issue seems to be her job. She is brilliant and attained 2 masters degrees in her chosen fields. When she was employed straight after leaving university (by the firm I was working at, at the time), the interviewers “had” to employ her right away. They could not risk loosing her while they interviewed others. Several years later she is indispensable. Indispensable but she is being fucked over on a daily basis. She is super hard working and rarely leaves before 10pm. The company does pay overtime (I always got paid for any extra time I put in when I was with them) but she never gets paid for it. She is one of the lowest paid but she stays quite and doesn’t kick up a stink. People go on holiday and dump their projects on her because they know she will do it, and do it properly. She grins and bears it. I am similar but not even I would stand for the way she is being treated. Lot’s of us close to her encourage her to move on and try to reinforce her confidence. But she is terrified to move on and being meek she just continues to get fucked over. She suffers in silence and only occasionally cries on one of our shoulders. I understand what she is going through. That helpless, lonely and terrifying darkness. Knowing you are being treated badly but being completely helpless to help yourself. I don’t know what to do for her. All I can think of is to try build her up, pass on my advice and be there when she needs a shoulder. I know the best way to fix this is for her to do it for herself. But I also know its a hard, painful and sometimes lonely journey.

With work I have developed the confidence to “not give a shit”. I know that if I walk out of a company, I can find something relatively quickly. And even if I don’t I know I can adapt into a new role and have no fear in that regard. But I still have those who are more bullish, push past and get ahead. I don’t have that loud voice and the fight that is often required to get ahead in a corporate world.

Age and experience has taught me that sometimes pushing that meek, quite side of myself away gets me what I want. But it can be incredibly difficult. Even building myself up and being ready to take that step, doesn’t make it happen. The time comes and either I bottle it or even bottle it on autopilot. What I mean by that is I only realise sometime later that I didn’t do what I had intended, said what I wanted, confronted a situation. Often this behavior repeats itself over and over. It can be overcome, I know this. I know that I can even be in the zone with a situation and have the confidence to barge through obstacle after obstacle and come though stronger, happier and bullish. Unfortunately even when I overcome my meekness in a certain situation, the next time it may not and I revert to that meek, quiet introvert. It’s so frustrating, so soul destroying, so crippling!

The same is happening in my marriage. I have wanted to leave for so long. Prepared myself to take that step. Given myself and given her every reason to separate. But I bottle it when the crunch comes. Part of the reason is meekness. If I was a bastard and just did what I needed to, what I “should” (read “The Background Story” for more details) I know I would be happier. But sometimes we can’t help ourselves no matter how much we want to.

Suggesting that the meek will inherit something due to the bullish destroying themselves or burning their light out is wrong. It’s pure fiction and utter bullshit. If anything it is the other way around and the meek will be pounded out of existence.