Sunday, September 18, 2011

Missing out...

Over the course of the last few weeks I have been talking  with a boy that has been feeling like the world is moving by him, and he is left out in the cold of the kink world. 

There are those out there that seem to lead lives of constant parties, travelling around to all the events, getting the chance to play with all the hot guys. There is a wide range of players out there, with factors including the amount of gear, self promotion, connections, charisma, etc., that make them seem as if they are "living the life" as he put it. 

He puts me in to that category of people to some extent, because of this blog, and had a hard time understanding that I don't always feel it. 

And just as there are those on the end of the spectrum that seem to be living the dream kink life, there are those on the other side. They don't feel hot enough to be players, or have the personality or social graces to find the right players. They may be poor and unable to buy the gear that turns them on. Or they may live in an isolated place that keeps them from meeting kinksters. 

It is tough not being the cool kid in the class sometimes. To feel like others are getting what you can never have. 

It creates a sense of abandonment and isolation. I related to him this week something that hit me hard regarding those very feelings.

Earlier this week I was flying out of an airport that I had forgot I was in once before until I passed through the security checkpoint and found myself in the high ceilings of the main hallway near the gates. I felt the rush of emotion that came back to me the day I was eight years old and standing in that same hallway. 

My parents had divorced a year earlier, my mother leaving my father and taking me to a different state to live with my sister. My rather, all alone in the house I grew up in, began a process of deteriorating into heavy drinking. He kept calling us and begging my mom to let him see me. She agreed to let me go back for a few months to spend time with him, hoping that it would help him recover and create some healing, and because I missed him too. 

Not long into that visit a horrible tragedy occured. My older brother who was with my mom was accidentally shot by a gang member in a fight across the street in the neighborhood we had lived in back then. He died quickly. Not only did I end up losing my brother, but my mother as well, as I was told that his death was a big part of why I wasn't going back to be with her. My family helped us the tragedy to keep me from her.

That hallway turned out to be the last time I saw my mother for quite sometime, and never again in her custody. 

So standing there this week, it became all I could think about. I missed out on my childhood in many ways. Taking care of an alcoholic father. Losing my brother. Losing my mother. I had to do a lot of growing up. I missed out on the things you are supposed to do as a kid. 

To this day one of the things I really hate is missing out on things. There are parties or get-togethers that others go to that I don't get invited to. People I wish I could get to know or become friends with that I never get to. Play time with people I likely never will. Parties happening elsewhere. Missing out always kicks me hard. 

I relayed this to the boy I was talking to, who feels like he misses out as well, but on everything. At first he tried to say, "but you get to do so many cool things, I have seen them on your blog!" That may be true. But I still miss out on a lot of things I would like to do. 

The secret, as I tried to explain, is this. Our lives sometimes seem as if there are large gaps because we are living all of it, and we see others as full, expansive lives because we see little snapshots into their lives. Because we don't live their life, we miss out on the struggle everyone has, the loneliness that even coupled people sometimes feel, and the pain of loss, or being left out. Everyone feels it from time to time. 

The difference is that with work, and choosing to have a positive attitude, we find a path to a better life, and a chance to be happy living it. If we have the courage to make that choice.

My life now is so much better than that day I stood in that hallway 30 years ago. And I am thankful for it.


  1. that was a very good post

  2. While I am sorry for the tragedies that happened in your childhood, I have to say you make a VERY good point Life is not what others do but what we make of it.