Looking back, I still have to wonder exactly how it all started. Aside from the obvious turn of one event leading to another, it just seems like there's something missing, if you can all understand what I mean. You take one and add one, it's supposed to come out to two, not something strange like seven. That's kind of how I feel about this introduction to kink in my life.
For many people I know, they found out that they were kinky due to some action of their own. There was some vague fantasy in their head, and then they later found out people actually live those fantasies out. For them, it was liberating. They finally felt like they'd found their way home! There are others who had a partner that was into something kind of light, and their interest blossomed from there. A part of me wishes I could say the same. Then again, if my experience were the same, perhaps I'd never have found my way to the world of kink. Perhaps I would have remained too innocent.
My first introduction was with a friend of mine. She and I met in seventh grade. In truth, she was one of the very few people who would speak to me. I'd transferred from a Catholic school (yup, Catholic school girl...) and didn't know anyone. I'd been told by my teacher the previous year that transferring to a public school of all things...I was going to get pregnant, or worse, stabbed and killed. I was a little skeptical of her prediction, but I wasn't exactly going in there with happy thoughts of how wonderful it would be. My friends were an odd collection of those people who just don't fit in. This girl was the first I met.
Her name was Miranda. She had this golden, brown hair and plain brown eyes. When she smiled it had this almost fake look to it, almost like there was something permanently sarcastic about her. Even her laugh sounded sarcastic I've got to admit, in so many ways, she was mean. It's not that she meant to be mean, but she would joke in hurtful ways, always making someone else the subject of it all. However, she and I got along incredibly well. She wasn't exactly a thin girl, but she wasn't really chubby either. I guess she was a bit on the curvy side. She was really intelligent and witty, which I thought was great, though I often felt dumb around her. Everything about her was playful. I think it was the third day of school when she asked my mom if I could go over her house after school, since my mom would walk to meet me at the school every day. It wasn't long before my mom stopped even showing up because I went home with Miranda every day.
For a while things were like normal girls hanging out. We'd watch television. We'd kick around on AOL, using her internet because I didn't have internet at home. I'd never been on the internet before. We'd go into the kitchen and make jello-o, bread, cakes, or whatever. More often than not, they were baking disasters rather than something we actually were proud of. Her younger sister and brother would harass us, so we'd retreat to her room and listen to Adam Sandler's comedy sketches and that sort of thing. Those were some good times. It was my introduction to Adam Sandler. It was my introduction to Full House and Fresh Prince. Hell, it was my introduction to the internet, something I take for granted so much now!
It was around October when things started to change. More and more often we would retreat to her room. She would lock the door behind us so her siblings couldn't get in, something I hadn't thought much about. At first it was just talking, listening to music or comedy sketches, or other things of a normal girlie nature. Then one day she started showing me the cool stuff she'd made, like whips and floggers. At the time I thought they were pretty cool and was interested to see every piece she'd carefully tucked away in a box at the back of her closet under some old clothes and other random things. I couldn't imagine why she would have something of this nature, but it was interesting nonetheless. As the days went on her hints became stronger and stronger, and I was so clueless and innocent at the time, that I didn't pick up on any of them. It wasn't until the day she flat out asked me to tie her to the bed and hit her with one of these things that I got it.
After that day that took up more and more of our time together. I started staying later and later at her house, staying for dinner what seemed like every night. Her father would give me a ride home as my mom's one contingency on going to visit was that I needed a ride home if I'd be out after dark. My mom didn't want to be bothered with picking me up all the time. I don't even think my mom cared to know what was going on behind closed doors at this girl's house. That's where we spent almost all of our time too, behind closed doors. She kept trying to come up with ways to inspire me to "torture" her, giving me ideas and suggestions. I think she'd hoped that I would come up with a few of my own. I never did. She was always cautioning me that no one could know what we were doing or we'd get in trouble. I have to admit, I didn't want to do it. I didn't like hurting her. It just felt wrong. Everything about the situation felt wrong, what we were doing, what she was demanding I do, the secrecy, all of it.
The longer things went on, the more I noticed this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I just couldn't do it anymore. There was something wrong with the whole situation. I hated the secrecy. I needed to talk to someone about what was going on. I needed to tell them how incredibly wrong it was. I needed to scream at the top of my lungs because I was so frustrated with the whole thing. I wanted to keep my friend, but I didn't want things to be like this. I hated myself. I hated her. We started to grow distant, but at the same time, we were ever closer. It was like one of those Chinese finger traps, the more you pull apart, the more tightly you're bound together, that was us.
For her birthday that year she had a sleep over party. There was one other girl there besides myself. We watched the Rocky Horror Picture Show. I have to wonder how she convinced her parents to let us watch it. It kind of strikes me as a bit adult for a seventh grader, not that it mattered in my case. I'd grown up watching the lips go around in circles on the record player while sitting in my parents room with my dad. I swear, I was singing the Time Warp by the time I was old enough to know how to sing. Still, it seemed a fitting choice given the nature of our relationship. As we watched the movie, I kept looking over at this other girl thinking she and Miranda were so much closer than she ever was with me. I kept wondering what their past was, if this other girl new, or if only Miranda and I shared this secret. I knew Miranda hadn't been playing this game with both of us, as she was almost always with me, but a part of me wondered. It was driving me crazy and I had to know, but to this day, I'd never asked.
After her birthday, everything stopped. We went back to a normal friendship and we never had any of those kinky moments again. I'd felt so relieved not to have that secret hanging over us, though I still wanted so badly to tell someone about it all, how wrong it felt, and how just thinking about it just turned my stomach. I needed to escape from these experiences that were tormenting my mind. I hated everything about that past, yet couldn't escape it. I felt like I was somehow damaged by the experience, and our relationship was never the same. It was like we were somehow freed from the trap and found out just how distant the two of us really were. Nothing would ever be the same.
So many people have thought my introduction to the whole kink scene was pretty hot. There's something about pre-teen girls going at it that seems to turn men on. I think one of my boyfriends from my past really had it right when he told me that it was actually kind of disturbing. I have to agree. To a kid my age when I got started, there really was something wrong with it. It really left a lasting scar on my psyche that will doubtful ever be repaired. Everything about the situation was wrong. It showed just how damaged she was, and then she turned that damage on to me. Realizing that as an adult, I felt hurt and betrayed. Of course, at the time, I didn't think of it that way at all.
In the months that followed, I noticed a disturbing trend in my thoughts. Now that Miranda was just a friend together, and we were far more distant, I realized I kind of missed it. I missed those intimate moments. I started to want them back, but not the way they'd happened. I wanted something different. My situation with Miranda wasn't at all what I wanted, but it did open up the door to what I really did want. I guess I have to thank her for that. It took me nearly six months to realize it, but when I did, I think I was even more sickened than I was at the whole situation with Miranda.
That spring I was in the school play with a little bit part due to my own mistake of not reading the rehearsal schedule right. As I said, I was pretty clueless and I'd never really done any kind of theater before. More importantly, I was in the director's theater class every day and she never once questioned why I wasn't at rehearsal. I digress. My friends and I were sitting outside the entrance to the left wing of the stage. I was lounging along the railing with my head in Katie's lap. She was gently stroking my hair while we were all talking about the production, making fun of some of the cornier lines. I don't remember why I had to get up, but I did. It's one of those moments that, looking back, really wasn't important. However, the rest of it, I remember with crystal clarity. I told Katie I was getting up for whatever reason, and she said something about it being fine with this little half smile. Her long, dark hair fell in curls around her. Her hair was gorgeous when it was down. I was always jealous. She was always something to be jealous of. She was taller than I was, a little heavy, which gave her a great shape to her body, skin as fair as ivory and speckled with pretty, delicate freckles. Back-lit by the overhead lighting, she looked even more beautiful. Her dark eyes seemed to sparkle just so. As I sat up, there was this incredible urge to kiss her.
Yeah, I know, sweet, innocent, and childish. Aww... I'd had my first lesbian desire, isn't that cute? And I bet you'll say that it was for some homophobic fear that I didn't do it, and that it was for that same fear that I got this knot in my stomach, turned pale, and had to have Katie catch me when my knees totally gave out. I'd told her that I was just feeling dizzy again. They all knew I sometimes had problems when I got up too fast where I'd feel I was about to pass out. It was a good excuse and she never questioned it, though I had a secret fear she'd know just what flashed through my head.
What was the real thought that flashed through my head and made me so weak at the thought? Let me tell you, it wasn't any kind of homophobia. I'd already known I was attracted to women. The first day of school I'd met one of my other friends, Amanda, and from the moment I saw her, I couldn't take my eyes off of her. She had gorgeous dark brown hair that fell to her chin that was straight everywhere except for these two curls that naturally fell to frame each side of her face no matter what she did to get rid of them. She was very much the tomboy and her every move lacked grace, but instead had this very rough and masculine confidence. Here I was on the first day of school realizing that leaving Catholic school had made me corrupt. Instead of being attracted to men, like all my peers, here was a girl I found positively delightful. I'd never told her about how I felt for fear of how she'd react. I also didn't want to ruin the friendship or somehow make her life more difficult because the school would undoubtedly know she was dating another girl, so I thought it would be best if no one ever knew. I was certain by high school or college there would be plenty of that going on, so two years of not being normal for junior high was tolerable.
In Katie's case, yeah, I kind of felt the same way, that fear that she would be labeled, or somehow it would taint the friendship, but that wasn't what caused me real dread. It was the image that flashed through my head, having her tied down to the bed instead of Miranda, and all the wicked things I could have done. It was the thought that slipped in as I sat up and nearly kissed her, wondering just how much further I could have pushed it with everyone there watching. It was the realization that I wanted everything I'd had with Miranda back, but at the same time, that wouldn't be enough. With Miranda and I, it was strictly non-sexual. With Katie, that wouldn't be enough. I wanted her because she was sweet, funny, always caring, and made me laugh, yes. I wanted that relationship factor. I wanted her because she was a gorgeous woman, and who wouldn't want a gorgeous woman that they lusted after? But I also wanted her because of these fantasies I didn't quite understand.
I didn't understand it back then. Actually, I thought it was positively wrong, unhealthy, and meant I had some real psychological issues. I blamed Miranda for putting ideas like that in my head. I hated myself for the kind of person it meant I was. Several times I had questioned whether this meant I had some kind of future as a serial killer or something, if I'd be picked up by the FBI and locked away like Hannibal in Silence of the Lambs. I dreaded what my friends and family would say about me. Everything about it was wrong.
Looking back, however, I see that all Miranda did was open the door and show me I wasn't alone. This wasn't some new experience of something that had never crossed my mind. I know there had been hints at it before. While I was young at the time, I think the kink community would have still ended up a part of my life, or if it never did, I would simply spend my life denying this part of myself that surely existed, somewhere beneath the depths of it all. As much as I hated her then for ruining my life, or so I thought at the time, I think I really need to thank her, as screwed up as that may seem. She's really quite the life saver.
No comments:
Post a Comment