Wednesday, March 12, 2014

August The Terrible

Like the flaming war was not enough of the trouble, sweltering August 1998 rushed into the country with the heat that was melting everything in its path. Smaller rivers dried up, tens of older people died in the city from the heat wave, while farmers in the outback were desperately trying to save their already miserable crops. August also made first visible cracks in the relationship with my husband.

Rising inflation was greedily eating away everything we would earn, which was not much in the first place, but then on Monday, 3rd of August he returned home before the lunch and silently said he lost his job. I remember hugging him and kissing him in the living room darkened by heavy dark brown curtains, feeling the sweat that was pouring down his face.

"Don't worry, I am sure you will find something else soon" - I do not know if I believed in what I said at that moment, but now I know that he surely did not. Without a word, he turned away from me and laid down on the old washed up sofa and fell asleep. He fell asleep and in reality never woke up. I had a feeling like he left his normal self deep inside some better dream, and woke up as an empty human shell.

In the next two months our small savings were rapidly fading away, and so was he. My husband would motionlessly sit in-front of the TV for hours, staring in the shiny box almost like waiting for something or somebody to come out. The words become rare commodity in our house. I tried hard to pull him out of that invisible strangling cocoon, least the best I could. I tried gently, I tried sexy, I tried screaming and then I stopped trying hoping he will come out when he is ready.

I loved him, I really did and I understood what was bothering him, but I could not understand his easy, cowardly surrender to that dark feeling. Soon he started disappearing without a word for hours at the time, coming back home with the lingering stink of alcohol that was spreading around him. He was not the same person I fell in love and married, or maybe he was and this is the time in ones life when you show the true structure of ones character, the true nature of ones soul. For the first time I thought about my husband as a weak cowardly man.

My parents and his parents, while struggling themselves, became our main source of income soon. My part time job was barely covering our rent, and every other expense was paid by them. At first I thought that fact will bring him out, wake him up, but that situation only pushed my husband deeper into the hole, and his cocoon was becoming a stone wall prison cell without windows.

I felt deserted and betrayed. The silence in the apartment was deafening. I was increasingly feeling a strong need to talk to somebody, about anything, to laugh or even cry. I just wanted to feel something, anything. I had no desire to talk with my friends or family who knew the whole situation. I wanted to forget everything at least for a moment and not talk about it every time we met. I started visiting local chat rooms and spending more and more time talking with strangers for hours just so I do not have to think about the reality. This where I met a man called Marko.

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

No Clean Panties

Do you sometimes or always feel that you are living a life where something is missing for you to be truly happy? Everything seems great, but deep inside you feel that uneasy feeling you are not satisfied. I had cheerful childhood, finished university on time and landed a decent job. Soon I married a high school sweetheart, enjoyed standard sex life and gave birth to a healthy baby girl. Sounds like a perfect life path, but that subtle undefined feeling of  something missing was always present. I tried "curing" myself by reading every imaginable self-improvement book I laid my hands, religiously listening CD's with mantras that should make me feel better when I wake up. Still, every morning and every day still tasted unsatisfying.

It was July 1998, and half of my country was immersed in civil war, but except financial problems, war still haven't seriously marked the part of the country where we lived. It turned out to be calm before the storm. I was busy taking care of my one year old baby and a part time job, having not much time for myself.  My feet  started dance of joy when my  mother offered her help for a day so I can have some time off.

Quick shower, slip over a short yellow summer dress and I was ready to run out through the door. I was in the hallway when I realized I forgot to put my panties on. In a jiffy I was back in our room, throwing things around trying to find clean panties, but to no avail. "Well there is always first time for everything", I thought, and decided to honor the city streets by walking without underwear for the first time in my life. The thought of changing my short dress for something not so revealing was quickly discarded and the next moment my heels played the beat on the hot city pavements. After an hour, I overcame initial feeling that every man who passes by knows that i have nothing else underneath my short cotton dress. Suddenly I became aware of the certain feeling of freedom and satisfaction. My walk became more seductive and provocative as I was enjoying the moment. On my way back home from shopping I caught the bus and found myself sitting across two high school boys that were loudly talking in almost empty bus, occasionally throwing quick looks in my direction. After three stops, bus became almost empty and i decided to have another "there is always first time for everything" mantra. I slowly parted my legs while looking away from them. I felt hot air sliding over my exposed slit like a gentle lovers tongue. Soon I noticed their loud talk became quite whisper and  I knew they noticed what I wanted to show. From the edge of my eye I could see they start playfully pushing each other while continually staring at my crotch.

From where the courage comes in moments like this I don't know, but in the next moment I looked straight into them and spread my legs wide as much as i can. I could see their faces going red and noticed their Adam's apple moving fast as they were swallowing and breathing harder. Minutes looked like hours and I felt like I have all the power in the world. Two stations down the road I stood up, blow them a kiss while they were staring at me like hypnotized and left the bus.

While walking away I started laughing like crazy, cherishing the feelgood spirit that entered my body. I am happy as never before and all because of one banal thing - I did not have clean panties to put one. The feeling didn't last for too long thou, the moment I entered our rented flat and met with a remark from my mother that I stayed for too long I felt ashamed and retracted to the previous state of being. In the months to follow I would occasionally indulge myself in escapades, but always felt guilty when I would come back home to my husband and baby.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Breaking Free

I don't believe people's sexuality nature can change. The "change" we occasionally notice in us or in others is nothing but breaking out of invisible prison that society put as in soon after we are born - a necessary measure for easier control of vast amount of different personalities, desires, dreams and realities. Those lucky to break out are not changed, just free to be what they are in this uniform world.

Very rarely one have ability to escape the life barb wire without any help. We need a spark, a single or more events - that might feel extremely bad for us at the time, none the less they amplify our inner sexual nature and allows it to break through the set up barriers. When finally free, be prepared that other still imprisoned souls who are always around you, will try hard to pull you back into the faceless place you escaped from. At every step you will feel their fear, uneasiness and envy of those that are still trapped. Most of the time you will avoid interacting with enslaved spirits, but you will also have a opportunity to open the door to freedom for some of them. Many will refuse scared of unknown, as every long term prisoner will tell you - freedom can be a very scary proposition. Some will get out for a moment but soon run back to life of sexually acceptable norms where they feel comfortable and safe. Only few will keep on walking the new found path of self discovery.

Those of us that manage to escape are reborn free in one or more aspect of  our life's. New found sexual freedom very often breeds freedom in artistic, political or social expression. What is important is that once when you jump over the prison walls in one aspect of your life, its much easier to leap over the next hurdle.

I found my sexual freedom at the age of 27 and never looked back. In lust I trust, just like old Christian Gnostic that never considered lust to be a deadly sin (actually lust was added to a deadly sin list several hundred years after the birth of Christianity). Early Christians were often starting their masses with orgies they believed are bonding their members closer to each other. Lust is pure eternal feeling constantly present in human mind, while love is something that we can feel or not at certain points of our life. Lust is liberating.