I stood on the outside looking in, wanting, no yearning with all the gangly, gawky, teenage, girliness that I was, to be on the inside. No matter the road required, my feet tread where my heart lead, my body cashing the checks my desire wrote screaming, “Come and get it, all takers welcome.” Sex and kindness were the only tickets to where I wanted to be.
Instead of on the inside I was found rarely on Saturday nights without a date. It’s the older me who would see that Friday night dates would have meant public disclosure that the jock of the night had been without a date. Saturday nights were for necking in dark movies, petting in the park (yeah as if we called it petting, wrong generation), and passing third base at the wave-pounding beach. Saturday nights were given over to momentary relief: hormonal for him, delusional acceptance for me. It would all end in the grief of the used and discarded.
Post weekend Monday lunches were spent on the fringe in Senior Square with the smoking chicks who took me in. Tuesday’s never found the phone ringing with a call for me, and after that week slow spun in to an abyss of the fore said discarded grief. Then Friday night would close in that anticipation of what Saturday could be. Even before I could see the patter, my psyche had some how accepted the chain of patterned events in my young life. Not so many years later, I would lie a different self into existence when my reality suddenly was black and white.
Ducky has heard my full disclosure on my teen years, but he is shocked that I share them so freely and openly online. I don’t bemoan my teenage trials I embrace them. I use my past to understand another’s present or future. I used the teen sex as a stepping stone to become the lover that I am today. I learned to seduce mentally and emotionally for full sexual impact and satisfaction. I learned to listen, to feel, to like me and live with in my skin. To realizing that acceptance comes from within first.
Now my desires beckon in lust born of love and trust, knowledge and past pain. Be at home in me and my love, for my desire is hot, come and get it.
Sith,
Cele
Thursday, April 17, 2008
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5 comments:
This: "It would all end in the grief of the used and discarded." was brilliant.
Grazie, Bella.
Very nice. I spent so many of my teen years trying to hold in the sensual feelings. If it was so wrong, why did it feel so right?
Yours, Cyn
My desire http://cynthus.bravejournal.com/
thank you Shi, it doesn't compare to your musings so I am honored by your comments.
Cyn we're taught it's wrong...yeah being married made it right. NOT (to be juvenile)
Love this post, Cele. You wind it up tight and let it fly straight and true here:
"Now my desires beckon in lust born of love and trust, knowledge and past pain. Be at home in me and my love, for my desire is hot, come and get it."
Aw... Cele! Beautiful post. I related on so many levels. Thank you. My favorite: "Be at home in me..." LOVED that.
xoxox
Angie
ps... please, please, PLEASE tell me... what does "Sith" mean? Am I missing something important?
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