I feel like such a rube, so naive, a frigging Polly-Anna.
This morning, I looked out the window to see 7" of snow from last night's blizzard. Don't get me wrong: I love snow. It's just that I live at the bottom of a hill, almost an acre from the road. Shoveling 7" of snow uphill was gonna kill me, intensive daily workouts or not.
Luckily, a guy phoned me. "I'm in your neighborhood. I gather you're stuck indoors. Give me five and I'll help you out."
I jumped into my snow shoveling gear:
|Me, later on at the Post Office|
Garam Masala was at the top of the hill, chopping his way to my driveway. Although there's no one up in the wintertime (my hood's composed of mostly seasonal home-owners), the guys operating the plow had to push all that snow in front of my driveway with a 3' bank. Leaving me to wonder who I managed to piss off recently. After an hour, I made my way uphill where I helped him polish off the driveway.
At this point, my fingertips were numb, not from the cold, but poor circulation. Once done, we slid down the path to my house where I put up a giant pot of coffee so we could relax. I also wanted to make sure the guy didn't die from cardiac arrest. Okay, I fess up: I wanted to make sure I didn't die from cardiac arrest. Or if I did, he'd dial 9-1-1 on my behalf.
I poured us two carafes of coffee and we sat around my kitchen table.
"So, what's up with you?" he asked.
"Oh, I ended this relationship a few weeks ago," I said with my customary vagueness. "I'm over the guy, but I'm not over the fact that he prefers an online romance with a guy who poses as a woman even though he knows he's a man."
Then, I swiveled my laptop and clicked onto my blog post: Law & Order: SVU Edition "This is a dramatic interpretation of what ensured."
While I drank my coffee, he watched/read the journal. Laughing his ass off, he said, "You got some imagination!"
"Well, I like to get into people's minds and how they think, just as an observer. I want to understand different perspectives of a situation. That's why the characters in my novels are fully fleshed. Yet, with this guy, I simply can't wrap my head around why a straight man prefers an online romance with a man rather with me in reality."
Garam Masala gave me a strange look. He's a few years older than me and has been around the block as well. "Listen, you can't fight with someone's inner kink. He's into being mind-fucked. It gives him pleasure, far more than being with a woman."
"What's that about?"
"He gets some sort of pay-off from his interactions. Let's say you didn't break it off, you'd still have problems. If it weren't with this guy, it would be with another. He really needs to be abused."
I reflected on an earlier conversation with that guy where I complained about looking like a Polly-Anna. "No matter how sexy I try to dress, hell, even with all these tattoos, I still come off looking wholesome."
He shot me a wistful grin. "That's what I like best about you."
I recounted that conversation as well to Garam Masala who said, "You'd only be a beard for this guy. He'll have an entirely secret life where you're in the living room and he's in the bedroom wacking off to online chats with strangers regardless of sex."
After Garam Masala left, I weighed what he told me. And realized that the expression, "Mind-fucking," is really a big scene in our contemporary culture, especially online. It's more than mental manipulation in a corporate or military environment. Today, it's a bizarre game that people play where they receive some sort of sordid sexual thrill in fucking someone over, pulling some sort of stunt. And the people who participate get some sort of sordid sexual thrill in being humiliated and debased.
That's when my inner Polly-Anna kicks in. I'm really not interested in sadism, masochism, bondage, submission, domination and mind-fucking. What little I do know and trust me, it's very little, doesn't interest me in the least. I find it contrived and believe there's more to life than these made-up games to sate warped, twisted, kinky desires. You see? No judgement involved!
Yet, I'm not that innocent. Nor impervious to mind-fucking as well, having been introduced to it in the first place by those two bozos. I'm not deriving any perverse sexual thrill out of it. Actually, outside of finding it funny because they don't know I'm doing it, I discovered a really great promotional tool for my blog. Should they find out, well, tant pis!
Every time I see an interaction between those two guys, I advertise my blog post about them. Reminds me of a drinking game where every time someone says a certain word, everyone has to down a shot. I must've advertised that blog post 57 times to date.
As a result, I've gained many new readers. Although I'm sure they're puzzled as to why that particular post was promoted 57 times.
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