Post by thaduke2003 on Jul 6, 2008 0:18:34 GMT -5
Disclaimer: I am over 18 years old, and these are MY views alone. They are not meant to represent any views but those of myself as an individual. If you or anyone else who might read this are offended by these ideas, I apologize. This is meant as an open discussion, but more of an adult topic. This is not meant as pornography, erotica, or anything of the type. Judge me how you will, but this is how I feel, and what I believe. I do NOT mean to glorify underage drinking, drug use, or sex. This is just my life and experience- it is not all happy sunshine, and may be a bit too intense for some. I do not apologize for any offense you may take, but wish for people to gain some depth and understanding from this- I know it has made, for me, all the difference. Anon...
One thing I have been thinking about a great deal in the past few days is sexuality. Not just gay/straight/bi/lesbian, etc., but my beliefs on love, sex, and sexuality.
When I was much younger (back before motorized vehicles, airplanes and trains, etc.), I went to a party. I was drinking without my parents for the first time, and did not know much in the way of guile. I was running with an older crowd, and naively assumed they would take care of me. One older girl in particular was taking interest in me, and I was flattered, if shy. She dropped something in my drink which she said "would make me feel great." Again, I naively assumed she held no ill will towards me, so I drank up, and soon lost touch with reality. My first time rolling. She took me upstairs, and took my virginity. I don't remember much, except one thing she told me that stuck in my head all these years: "Always take care of a woman's needs before your own." Back then, it meant nothing, as I knew nothing of sexual needs, but it's had a strong effect on me since.
For the next two years, I was pretty lost in terms of feelings and sexuality. I finished my 8th grade year, and met Emily shortly thereafter. She was also a bit older (17 to my 14, at the time). She was funny, gorgeous (to my eyes), and made me actually care, because she genuinely cared about me, and how I felt. She was the first person I ever loved, and I can honestly say that she pulled me out a deep depression that bordered on suicidal at many points. She showed me the better parts of love, and life, and I'll forever be in her debt for it.
The week before Christmas, I went to a local pawnshop, and purchased a beautiful necklace for her. It had a real diamond on the end, and cost me $200, which was quite a bit of money for me then. I had saved up for months for it, and couldn't wait to give it to her. The night I brought it home, we were experiencing a nasty ice/snow storm (Upstate NY gets some weather that would send NCer's RUNNING), but I begged her to come over anyway. She said no, saying the weather was too bad, but I persisted. She relented, and said she would be by in 15 minutes. One hour passed, then another. This is back before cell phones were big, so I called her house, and she wasn't there. My parents were out of town for a bit, so I "borrowed" my dad's Jeep. I drove up and down the roads between her house and mine, until I noticed a set of skidmarks heading into some woods, and broken trees. I pulled over and ran over, only to see her car rolled over and pushed up against a tree. I ran down to see her body laying in the car, her faced bruised and bloddy. She wasn't breathing. I tried to get up on the passenger side of the car to get in to her, but couldn't. I drove to a nearby house, and used their phone to call 911. Long story short, she had died on impact after hitting a patch of ice, and rolling twice.
After losing Emily, I was about as cold and unfeeling as one can be. I used women, drugs, and cared nothing for even those who had been my closest friends. I was so hurt, I couldn't even cry at Emily's funeral. I felt nothing, and hurt a fair number of people for it, including myself, many times.
Although many women (and some men) tried to talk me out of my depression, there was nothing to be said to me that would pull me out of it. I got into an adrenaline junkie mindset, but I took it to the extreme where I would push past where I knew my boundaries were- I didn't much care if I got myself killed. I got into street racing (not the Fast & Furious BS, but real racing), took jobs as a wheelman, and got into some things that are fun to some, like extreme skiing (which later took me to the X-Games), SCUBA diving, downhill bike racing, and so on. Each of these things I took to the extreme- always pushing myself farther. In this, I grew to realize that my personal boundaries were tremendous- I was always held back by equipment, even when I had the best of the best. I realized that I was not the one who would kill me, so I learned to enjoy these things, and enjoy pushing myself to near-100% levels frequently.
Because of my exposure to racing, and learning young to drive in terrible weather, I was offered a job racing Subarus for a dealership in Maine. The type of racing is called rally- it's a set cross-country course in stages over tarmac, mud, dirt, snow, ice- anything. The driver has no advanced knowledge of the course, and is lead by a co-driver in the passenger set, who has a set of course notes. It requires lightning reflexes, balls of steel, and immense trust. My co-driver and I became inseparable- we were extensions of each other, and I of the car itself. He was the first person I trusted after Emily, and I am forever in his debt.
One of the other 3 junior drivers was a young lady named Fiona. She was 21 to my 19, and was stunningly beautiful (she had been a model until her driving talent emerged). While I take great pride in my talent in driving, I can honestly say she was that little bit better than I was. We were always trying to better the other, and this pushed us farther and farther from our comfort zones. We were quickly turning into world-class drivers, and even our instructors could barely keep up with us. We were quite the team out of the dirt as well- we were as close as any two people could be. One night, we kissed, and were soon madly in love. After a few months, I proposed to her, and she accepted. We set the date, and kept on pushing each other harder.
One day, we were working on an exercise in drifting, and connecting turns. For those who think drifting came from Japan, it actually comes from rally, as the only way to make some tight turns quickly (hairpins, etc.) is to drift through them, on some surfaces. To explain another point, we gauged our attacks in percentage: 50 percent is normal driving, 75% is about as fast as you were supposed to, and this, for Fiona and I, was faster than most people could ride along with (we had fun taking friends for "Hell rides"). 100% is balls-to-the-wall, taking every risk, and more than we would even use in a race, as it meant leaving NOTHING on the table, and nothing to fall back on in case anything went wrong. For this exercise, we were supposed to do 75%, but Fiona and I got on the radio, and agreed to pushing to 90, then 95, and on the third run, 100%. It was on deep dirt with some gravel mixed in- a very unpredictable surface, at best.
It was a follow-the-leader exercise, and on the third run, I was in the lead. I did the exercise as fast as the car and my ability would allow, and it was frightening. I have never since and will never again push myself that hard. On the exit from the last turn, I breathed a sigh of relief, and backed off to watch Fiona. She came out of the turn too far to the outside, hit a tree, and the car skipped across the track, and hit another tree on the driver's side. We would later discover that my last run through had made a deep furrow that caught her tire, causing her to hit the first tree.
I ran to her car, pulled her dazed, but uninjured, co-driver out of the car. She was bleeding badly, but conscious. She had hit her head hard against the tree, and I saw she didn't have long to live. I crawled across the car, and put my hands on her. I don't remember it, but apparently I was screaming after I felt her stop breathing as the instructors tried to pull me away from her.
Why have I typed all of this out? I'm still not sure. It's a bit I haven't told many people who know me well. I suppose I needed to confess my sins, and get the weight off my chest a bit more. Writing is usually a great outlet for pain for me. As I'll always ask, please, to sympathy or such- I am just telling my story.
Now, for the part that goes under Rants.
Sexuality:
In my younger, confused years after I lost Emily, I experimented with bisexuality. In hindsight, no regrets, although it alienated me from a few people. I see this, however, as a blessing, as it showed me that they were not true friends.
I have experimented a fair bit with casual sex, and I still believe that this is a taboo that must be further explored. In our modern, STD-conscious, ultra-PC society, it is seen as uncouth, or dirty. It is a perfectly natural thing, and is honestly one of the most relaxing and freeing experiences I have yet had. It is not just for men to "get laid," but it also has the same liberating feeling for the women I have done it with. There is little to no sense of the "ball-and-chain" effect of a relationship, while there can still be the emotional release of being with someone you care for. I will continue to keep my eyes open for this.
I have also had the great pleasure of experiencing a group sex session with two otherwise lesbian ladies when I was in high school- they trusted me, and allowed me to join them. This was the first time I knew anyone who was not straight, and knowing them outside of their bedroom was an eye-opener on many levels. They taught me a number of life lessons and ideas that stick with me to this day. I truly miss them, even now.
Love:
I believe that love is not just for crappy sappy movies, and Hallmark cards. Love is a true, real force. There are several kinds of love, to be sure: friendship love, which you feel for someone you become close to, family love (self-explanatory), and romantic love. While I enjoy the love of a true friend, romantic love has to be the most addicting thing in the world. Without it, life withers and fades, and seems empty. When you feel loved, the world is a bright, shiny, happy place that seems to be boiling over with good feelings.
I love openly and freely, and am certainly guilty of giving my love away too readily, freely, and easily. I give it to friends who haven't proven themselves, relative strangers, and to women whose company I enjoy. I will not change this. This hurts me sometimes, and hurts me deeply, but it allows me amazing moments of passion, emotion, and true feeling, all of which make every moment of pain seem that much duller.
All in all, despite my experiences, I keep my heart open and warm- step inside, be a friend, be a lover, and be welcomed. Shantih- Mark W.
One thing I have been thinking about a great deal in the past few days is sexuality. Not just gay/straight/bi/lesbian, etc., but my beliefs on love, sex, and sexuality.
When I was much younger (back before motorized vehicles, airplanes and trains, etc.), I went to a party. I was drinking without my parents for the first time, and did not know much in the way of guile. I was running with an older crowd, and naively assumed they would take care of me. One older girl in particular was taking interest in me, and I was flattered, if shy. She dropped something in my drink which she said "would make me feel great." Again, I naively assumed she held no ill will towards me, so I drank up, and soon lost touch with reality. My first time rolling. She took me upstairs, and took my virginity. I don't remember much, except one thing she told me that stuck in my head all these years: "Always take care of a woman's needs before your own." Back then, it meant nothing, as I knew nothing of sexual needs, but it's had a strong effect on me since.
For the next two years, I was pretty lost in terms of feelings and sexuality. I finished my 8th grade year, and met Emily shortly thereafter. She was also a bit older (17 to my 14, at the time). She was funny, gorgeous (to my eyes), and made me actually care, because she genuinely cared about me, and how I felt. She was the first person I ever loved, and I can honestly say that she pulled me out a deep depression that bordered on suicidal at many points. She showed me the better parts of love, and life, and I'll forever be in her debt for it.
The week before Christmas, I went to a local pawnshop, and purchased a beautiful necklace for her. It had a real diamond on the end, and cost me $200, which was quite a bit of money for me then. I had saved up for months for it, and couldn't wait to give it to her. The night I brought it home, we were experiencing a nasty ice/snow storm (Upstate NY gets some weather that would send NCer's RUNNING), but I begged her to come over anyway. She said no, saying the weather was too bad, but I persisted. She relented, and said she would be by in 15 minutes. One hour passed, then another. This is back before cell phones were big, so I called her house, and she wasn't there. My parents were out of town for a bit, so I "borrowed" my dad's Jeep. I drove up and down the roads between her house and mine, until I noticed a set of skidmarks heading into some woods, and broken trees. I pulled over and ran over, only to see her car rolled over and pushed up against a tree. I ran down to see her body laying in the car, her faced bruised and bloddy. She wasn't breathing. I tried to get up on the passenger side of the car to get in to her, but couldn't. I drove to a nearby house, and used their phone to call 911. Long story short, she had died on impact after hitting a patch of ice, and rolling twice.
After losing Emily, I was about as cold and unfeeling as one can be. I used women, drugs, and cared nothing for even those who had been my closest friends. I was so hurt, I couldn't even cry at Emily's funeral. I felt nothing, and hurt a fair number of people for it, including myself, many times.
Although many women (and some men) tried to talk me out of my depression, there was nothing to be said to me that would pull me out of it. I got into an adrenaline junkie mindset, but I took it to the extreme where I would push past where I knew my boundaries were- I didn't much care if I got myself killed. I got into street racing (not the Fast & Furious BS, but real racing), took jobs as a wheelman, and got into some things that are fun to some, like extreme skiing (which later took me to the X-Games), SCUBA diving, downhill bike racing, and so on. Each of these things I took to the extreme- always pushing myself farther. In this, I grew to realize that my personal boundaries were tremendous- I was always held back by equipment, even when I had the best of the best. I realized that I was not the one who would kill me, so I learned to enjoy these things, and enjoy pushing myself to near-100% levels frequently.
Because of my exposure to racing, and learning young to drive in terrible weather, I was offered a job racing Subarus for a dealership in Maine. The type of racing is called rally- it's a set cross-country course in stages over tarmac, mud, dirt, snow, ice- anything. The driver has no advanced knowledge of the course, and is lead by a co-driver in the passenger set, who has a set of course notes. It requires lightning reflexes, balls of steel, and immense trust. My co-driver and I became inseparable- we were extensions of each other, and I of the car itself. He was the first person I trusted after Emily, and I am forever in his debt.
One of the other 3 junior drivers was a young lady named Fiona. She was 21 to my 19, and was stunningly beautiful (she had been a model until her driving talent emerged). While I take great pride in my talent in driving, I can honestly say she was that little bit better than I was. We were always trying to better the other, and this pushed us farther and farther from our comfort zones. We were quickly turning into world-class drivers, and even our instructors could barely keep up with us. We were quite the team out of the dirt as well- we were as close as any two people could be. One night, we kissed, and were soon madly in love. After a few months, I proposed to her, and she accepted. We set the date, and kept on pushing each other harder.
One day, we were working on an exercise in drifting, and connecting turns. For those who think drifting came from Japan, it actually comes from rally, as the only way to make some tight turns quickly (hairpins, etc.) is to drift through them, on some surfaces. To explain another point, we gauged our attacks in percentage: 50 percent is normal driving, 75% is about as fast as you were supposed to, and this, for Fiona and I, was faster than most people could ride along with (we had fun taking friends for "Hell rides"). 100% is balls-to-the-wall, taking every risk, and more than we would even use in a race, as it meant leaving NOTHING on the table, and nothing to fall back on in case anything went wrong. For this exercise, we were supposed to do 75%, but Fiona and I got on the radio, and agreed to pushing to 90, then 95, and on the third run, 100%. It was on deep dirt with some gravel mixed in- a very unpredictable surface, at best.
It was a follow-the-leader exercise, and on the third run, I was in the lead. I did the exercise as fast as the car and my ability would allow, and it was frightening. I have never since and will never again push myself that hard. On the exit from the last turn, I breathed a sigh of relief, and backed off to watch Fiona. She came out of the turn too far to the outside, hit a tree, and the car skipped across the track, and hit another tree on the driver's side. We would later discover that my last run through had made a deep furrow that caught her tire, causing her to hit the first tree.
I ran to her car, pulled her dazed, but uninjured, co-driver out of the car. She was bleeding badly, but conscious. She had hit her head hard against the tree, and I saw she didn't have long to live. I crawled across the car, and put my hands on her. I don't remember it, but apparently I was screaming after I felt her stop breathing as the instructors tried to pull me away from her.
Why have I typed all of this out? I'm still not sure. It's a bit I haven't told many people who know me well. I suppose I needed to confess my sins, and get the weight off my chest a bit more. Writing is usually a great outlet for pain for me. As I'll always ask, please, to sympathy or such- I am just telling my story.
Now, for the part that goes under Rants.
Sexuality:
In my younger, confused years after I lost Emily, I experimented with bisexuality. In hindsight, no regrets, although it alienated me from a few people. I see this, however, as a blessing, as it showed me that they were not true friends.
I have experimented a fair bit with casual sex, and I still believe that this is a taboo that must be further explored. In our modern, STD-conscious, ultra-PC society, it is seen as uncouth, or dirty. It is a perfectly natural thing, and is honestly one of the most relaxing and freeing experiences I have yet had. It is not just for men to "get laid," but it also has the same liberating feeling for the women I have done it with. There is little to no sense of the "ball-and-chain" effect of a relationship, while there can still be the emotional release of being with someone you care for. I will continue to keep my eyes open for this.
I have also had the great pleasure of experiencing a group sex session with two otherwise lesbian ladies when I was in high school- they trusted me, and allowed me to join them. This was the first time I knew anyone who was not straight, and knowing them outside of their bedroom was an eye-opener on many levels. They taught me a number of life lessons and ideas that stick with me to this day. I truly miss them, even now.
Love:
I believe that love is not just for crappy sappy movies, and Hallmark cards. Love is a true, real force. There are several kinds of love, to be sure: friendship love, which you feel for someone you become close to, family love (self-explanatory), and romantic love. While I enjoy the love of a true friend, romantic love has to be the most addicting thing in the world. Without it, life withers and fades, and seems empty. When you feel loved, the world is a bright, shiny, happy place that seems to be boiling over with good feelings.
I love openly and freely, and am certainly guilty of giving my love away too readily, freely, and easily. I give it to friends who haven't proven themselves, relative strangers, and to women whose company I enjoy. I will not change this. This hurts me sometimes, and hurts me deeply, but it allows me amazing moments of passion, emotion, and true feeling, all of which make every moment of pain seem that much duller.
All in all, despite my experiences, I keep my heart open and warm- step inside, be a friend, be a lover, and be welcomed. Shantih- Mark W.
Mark W.
