The Ali Punch and Mrs. Blair’s Knickers

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In a fun activity prior to attending this year’s Eroticon, guests were asked to answer some questions about themselves.  One of the questions was two truths and a lie, a concept that I thought was fun. However, it did take some time to think something up that was plausible and Mr. Ali did feature, hence his second round.

I have had reason to question my own abilities recently, and that extends to every aspect of my life. ‘I’ve not been in a good place,’ as some might say and to be honest, elements of it have got better, and sometimes my ability to lie and deceive myself as well.  Now I am sure that the psychologists amongst you will recognise that being honest with yourself is a key element to regaining one’s old self.  The thing is, being honest is even more depressing than a lie at times.  Having said that, I have experienced a number of ‘come to God’ moments with my lovely wife that has forced me to be honest.  The problem I faced was that honesty and laziness were bed-fellows of sorts.  To be 100% honest makes me feel low, low makes me feel tired, tiredness makes me lazy and lazy would make me give up.

Let me be clear here; I don’t give up.  Never have and probably never will. That is not to say I will flog a dead horse, I will however look for a new mode of transport. So to stay afloat, I have to deceive myself somewhat. ‘Fake it to make it’ was term thrown at me a while ago.  This was in reference to depression, however, it was also aimed at Dominance by quite an experienced individual.  Yes, I know, I can hear the sharp intake of breath from a handful of Dominants and the pitchforks being wielded above their heads.
“Kill the monster!” they scream.
But hold on for a minute. What if you can’t currently get your head straight and you struggle meet the standards you want maintain?  Do you roll over and admit defeat, drink a can of ‘Man The Fuck Up’ or do you find a way force positive behaviours upon yourself so that old habits return?  To the MTFU brigade, I suggest you beat your hairy chest elsewhere as this blindness to deep rooted issues only buries them deeper.  I want to be a Dom and a good one. To do that I need to fall over many times, pick myself up, put on a smile and try hard to learn something from the experience.

I grew up in a housing association, second floor flat as a kid.  However, I was an only child and what my parents could not afford, they made for me. I won’t expand on the skateboard made from a plank of wood and roller skates, the mental and physical scars are still there!  Despite coming from modest beginnings in a very industrial town of high unemployment, I did okay on my 2 GCSEs.  I grasped life by the balls and never gave up trying for the job above me. More often than not I failed terribly, and yet I kept on trying.  I have all the rejection letters spanning 15 years somewhere.  However, for every eight letters, I climbed a step up, or sometimes sideways. All the time looking up and knowing that I could do better next time.  I confess that I was placed in charge of fifty people in my early twenties, and I made a complete cake-and-arse party of it.  I look back now and still cringe at my immaturity and naivety managing a very dysfunctional group of people. The stories I could tell would sound like total fabrication, and sometimes, I wish they were!

Why am I writing this you may wonder?  It helps me in a way therapy can not.  I look back on my words and FEEL my old self in there.  I am the person who fathered great children, survived a car crash marriage of 19 years, helped the Prime Minister’s wife sew her skirt after flashing her red knickers and yes, I was punched by Muhammad Ali standing in a lift with him. Most of all though I have missy, who throughout all the ups and downs of the last two years she has kept the fire in my belly, the lead in my pencil and the rocket up my arse to keep me going.  Where I have faded temporarily, she has blossomed on so many levels. Her sexual exploration has limited physical boundaries and her mental ones fall away like autumn leaves continually. She is a light to which I am drawn.

 

 

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