Tag Archives: Tolerance

Wavin’ Flag

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The following post is from a friend’s blog. It really struck a chord with me and therefore I’d like to share it with you.

The flag, American flag to be precise, is of huge importance to me. In 1992 I enlisted in the United States Army to protect what the flag stands for, the liberties it symbolizes, and the freedom that it provides for us. I was prepared to fight and, if need be, die for it in order to protect what it stands for. Fortunately, I was never deployed in any officially declared military action to do so, but, I stood ready to do so on a moment’s notice and would have done so with pride. And it is pride that PP&B’s post below addresses. Not only am I proud of the country in which I live, I am proud of who I am. I am proud of the fact that after forty years of roaming this earth that I was finally able to realize that the fact that I am attracted to all genders. I am a married, gun toting, meat eating, flag waving bisexual American man. I don’t have to apologize to anyone for who I am or for what I believe. I’m proud of myself and for those who unashamedly count me as a friend.

I am Foxfur!

There’s another flag that I am immensely proud of. It’s one that I used to feel made me a target or was a symbol of exclusivity. In reality, it is a flag of inclusion and solidarity. Many straight people I know proudly display it on their car, clothing, skateboard, and gun case. The following post describes it with more detail than I am capable of providing.

Without further delay, here is Pink, Purple, and Blue‘s post:
Wavin’ Flag

The rainbow flag: the ultimate symbol of gayness.  Seeing that flying somewhere, posted on a door, or sewn onto a backpack lets you know that you’re around something safe.  It tells you that there is a supporter, if not many, in your midst.  Love it or hate it (some people seriously just do not like rainbows), it has a clear message that folks from the coast of California to the bars in Belgium can understand.  There are other symbols that mean the same or similar things, but I’m willing to bet that, universally, that damned rainbow is the clearest one (at the moment, anyway.  Things could change in a few decades).  When you wear it, it lets people know that you are here, you are queer, and you are proud.

Not all rainbow flags have to be literal flags.  There are, of course, other ways to make your message clear.  No, I’m not talking about just coming out.  Coming out is great.  It means you’re being open and honest with people about who you are and that’s lovely.  It’s beautiful, it’s wonderful, it let’s people know that GBLTQ people are real.  I’m talking about more than that.  You see, a rainbow flag isn’t just a bunch of colors that represent a group of people.  It’s a mother-effing flag.  It moves.  It blows confidently in the wind.  It weathers rain and snow and scorching heat.  It’s a symbol of power.  Have you ever really though about just how powerful flags are?  There’s a reason various nations will throw you in jail for burning one.  The American National Anthem is all about a giant deadly battle that was worth it because, when it was over, the damned flag was still there.  That, friends, is a sign of resilience!  No, to be like a flag, you have to do more than just come out.  Coming out is like the colors: it’s necessary to recognize what’s being represented, but it’s not the thing you can really hold onto.  No, the real power, the flag, is you.

Allow me to clarify that statement a bit.  We all have lives, we all have stories.  They tell the world who we are, they make up our history, they are a part of us.  They may be something as simple as stating who we are in the world and how we navigate it.  They may involve tales of sorrow or triumph.  They may be the most mundane tales in the world.  They may seem ordinary, but they are not.  Regardless of whether they are miraculous or mundane, they are all amazing.  They show a person who, regardless of what life has thrown at them, has dealt with things and lived to tell.  When the rains came down or the sun smiled sweetly or the bombs burst in air, when it was all over, you were still there.  You are still here.  They didn’t chase you back into a closet or make you feel so bad about yourself that you can’t look into a mirror or make your forget that there’s nothing wrong with you.  They also didn’t raise you so high onto a pedestal that you crashed and burned after the very first mistake you made.  You’re around, regardless of what good or bad or nothingness has happened.  You survived the coming out.  You are a mother-effing flag.

The thing about flags is that all their greatness and majesty and other words used to describe regal things is only potential until you do something with it.  If my flag stays folded or rolled up in a drawer somewhere where nobody can see it, then all of its glory lives only in the future.  I may decide to put it up one day.  I could raise it up and watch it fly.  Someday everyone will marvel at it.  It had great power, but none of that means anything unless you give it a chance to do something.  Similarly, YOU have to do something.  You have these stories, you have this existence, but until you start telling them, all they are are great stories.  They’re folded up and hidden in the dresser of your mind.  Sure, you know about them, and they may even inspire you, but they won’t have an impact.  No one will feel motivated by them.  No one’s going to write a song about that thing they never heard.  And this isn’t just about some kind of personal honor thing.  When you tell your story, when you wave that flag, others notice.  Those who are scared and feel weak and don’t know if they can weather the storm see you and know they aren’t alone.  Those who have fought and fought and feel too tired or jaded to go on look at you and see that the fight has not been abandoned.  Those just trying to make it through their lives unscathed see you and know that there’s more than one story in our community.  We are as diverse as those colors, but damn it, we need to SHOW it.   Otherwise, there is no impact.

Allow me to lead by example.  I am a twenty-six year old Black American bisexual.  I came out to myself when I was twenty years old and it scared the crap out of me because bisexuality and homosexuality was a fine and fantastic thing that happened to other people, but was never supposed to happen to me.  I got over that pretty quickly.  I told my friends two months after I figured it out, and two months after that I had a girlfriend.  My parents weren’t thrilled but were fine with it.  My first break-up remains one of the five lowest moments of my life.  I was once vaguely heterophobic, but I learned better.  I was once obnoxiously queer (the obnoxious was on purpose), but I calmed down.  I used to be afraid that my orientation would keep me from the job I want to do, but things have changed and it’s now fine.  I am currently afraid that my orientation will keep the folks in charge of declaring me qualified for the job I want to from allowing it.  I’m still pursuing that job anyway.  I have been in love four times and been loved back once, which proves that, even when you don’t feel like anyone will ever love you, chances are someone will.  I have survived low self-esteem, abuse, and really unfortunate choices in wardrobe.  I have a very weird sense of humor, which has been shaped by those three things above.  I am still here, still proud, and still alive.  I am a waving flag.

I invite you to go out and share your stories with the world.  Tell people about yourself, let them know your stories.  Just like you rock your rainbows, rock yourself.  Let the world know what you’ve overcome or what’s important to you or what other flag you’d like to fly (Pink, Purple, and Blue y’all!).  Use the comments on this post to share if you’d like.  Just, get out there.  Wave your flag.

 

Thanks PP&B!

Adventures in Wonderland

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I received an invitation from a friend to attend the (unspecified city’s name) Leather Alliance vendors fair with her and her husband. The Leather Alliance is a regional BDSM association. My friend used to be very involved in the BDSM scene when she lived in this city. I’d never have guessed this. I immediately agreed to go. It sounded like fun and I’ve been curious about the scene since I recently found out that Sweetpea (my wife) has been reading erotic BDSM fiction for the last five years totally unbeknownst to me. She disabused me of many notions that I had on the subject. I had always assumed that there was dark sadism and cruelty involved and that the submissive partner was talked into it with fear and trepidation. I was completely wrong. Instead, it is a mutual agreement, indeed a contract, with negotiated terms of limits and boundaries that involves trust with a great deal of responsibility upon the dominant partner to care for the submissive and respect those boundaries. It is a power exchange with each getting what they need from each other. She had encouraged me to investigate and judge for myself this community as she thought it might be interesting to me. Due to my multidisciplinary skill sets (metalworking and machining, welding, woodworking, plasticworking, etc.), I’ve been fascinated with the hardware side of the scene and stated in the past that I wish I was into this kind of thing as I felt that I could make some pretty fine and interesting implements with which to participate.

The fair was a real eye opener for me. The attendees were everyday people, our neighbors. There were school teachers, doctors, blue collars, white collars, auto mechanics and executives. All ages were represented from early twenties to mid seventies. While there were some chiseled gym bunnies, most were of average body types. There was a surprising lack of multi-pierced and heavily inked goths. 

The wares exhibited ranged from padded leather restraint cuffs to needles, riding crops to rubber articles, soft leather flogs to glass dildos on leather harnesses. There were paddles made from beautiful laminated woods, hand forged aluminum, and machined stainless steel. Most amazing of all, to me, was the fact that 90% or more of the items at the thirty or so tables were handcrafted by the people selling them. I saw only a very few mass-produced items. Both the vendors and buyers were relaxed and easy-going with a surprisingly low number of people putting on false airs of superiority. There were smiles and laughs, handshakes and hugs, genuine displays of affection for close friends and exclamations of delight at the appearance of dear friends long unseen. These were people attending just another arts and crafts show.

The admission was a mere three dollars. The articles available for purchase were quite modestly priced and affordable by nearly anyone’s measure. The feeling I had was that they wanted everyone to be able to play with toys. This is not to say there were no extravagant items commanding higher prices. Those items were expertly crafted using fine materials and displayed proudly by their makers. One that caught my eye was an elaborate bullwhip braided from three colors of tanned and dyed kangaroo hide. I wouldn’t prefer to be on either end of it but I greatly admired the craftsmanship of that incredible work of art.

I was informed that there would be a “play party” later that evening in the very same halls that we were in. I was very hesitant about going to it at first, but, as time went by and I met so many genuinely nice people, I was warming to the idea. Bear in mind that this was a completely new experience for me. I’d never been to anything remotely like this fair let alone an event such as the coming party, pun intended. By the end of the fair I not only decided to purchase a ticket, twenty dollars, but to also buy a membership, ten dollars. By doing so I also received a five dollar discount on the ticket.

I’m house sitting some forty miles from home and didn’t have a thing to wear to the night’s coming affair. I quickly remedied that by stopping at a Goodwill superstore on the way home. For a mere thirty bucks I secured a fantastic pair of tight low-cut hiphugger jeans, a nice collared shirt, a sharp looking double buckled leather belt, and a pair of modest low top leather shoes, all in black. I’ve never thought I looked great in black but I was looking pretty good if I don’t say so myself.

Earlier in the day I was concerned that I’d chicken out at the last moment. Though increasingly interested in going, after getting the new duds I was eagerly anticipating the evening’s event. My friends arrived right on time to pick me up and we arrived at the venue some fifteen minutes after the party had started. Again was I impressed by the appearance of everyday folk that were making their way towards the doors of the hall. Upon entry I realized that I had forgotten my ticket! Fortunately my friend knew the president of the association. Told of my misfortune, the woman looked at me and shook her head in a mock disgusted manner with a twinkle in her eye and a grin that said “I am so going to have to put you over my knee…”. She then graciously gave a nod to the gentleman at the admission table and I was allowed to proceed.

My mind was immediately blown as I entered the main eighty by forty-foot hall. There were padded benches, a ten by ten two-sided A-frame cargo net fixture, wooden racks, large X shaped St. Andrews crosses, and suspension frames with almost every one of the devices occupied by people truly enjoying the attentions of their doms. The subs were emitting sighs, groans, yelps, and giddy squeals of pleasure! Giggling and outright bubbly laughter were not at all uncommon. Well I’ll be damned. There was a genuine atmosphere of liberation and satisfaction suffusing the hall.

Spectating and observation were not only tolerated but were encouraged. One was able to watch the participants without embarrassment or shame and I didn’t once feel shock or revulsion at any time during the nearly five hours that I was there. A few displays of exchange were stunning but not at all intimidating.

Amongst some of the more notable displays observed was a woman trussed with soft rope and suspended from an overhead frame by six supporting ropes. The ropework and knots were done very artistically by what I could tell was a very experienced dom. The woman was clearly enjoying herself without humiliation or pain. It was obvious that she was comfortable in her bound and suspended state. I learned that if circulation was restricted and body parts were falling asleep then they were “doing it wrong”. She was allowed a surprising degree of freedom of movement as she hovered three or four feet above the floor. Her dom was by her side the entire time attending to her needs. Several times I heard yelps immediately followed by giggles. Though bound and confined, she was in exactly the place she wanted to be. I’ll never forget the broad smile and gleam in her eyes after being lowered and unbound. She radiated an enjoyment that was infectious.

Another act was of something I’d only seen in seedy videos on the internet. A man was tenderly inserting a gloved fist into a wonderfully relaxed woman’s vagina. Most of the fisting I’ve seen in videos has appeared as hostile and almost violent. It looks like a punching of the guts from the inside. This display was gentle and indeed loving. Surprisingly, it did not come across as sexual to me. I cannot fully explain this. The connection of the two was readily apparent and inspiring. It was a thing of beauty. Really. I’d never have guessed that my reaction would be thus but there it is.

One last act, of many that I observed and relate to you here, was of a very strong and handsome gentleman being flogged by an equally strong and beautiful woman. The flog was of leather with the tassels being about two feet long and 1/2 to 3/4 of an inch wide. They were made of a rather soft leather and no more that 1/16th of an inch in thickness. Quite contrary to my expectation, the sound of the impact was a dull thud instead of a sharp crack. The surface area of the tassels, numbering around fifty, spread the impact. While there was a slight amount of redness on his back, there were no red stripes and neither was there any blood. Though she was wielding the flog with two hands and had a windup that would make an MLB batter jealous, it was obvious that she was eminently capable and operated with great skill and finesse. I can honestly say that I would have no fear of being on the receiving end of her ministrations so well were they done.

The tenderness expressed by the dom to the sub after a scene was impressive and somewhat unexpected by me. Commonly it was shown by the cradling and caressing of the sub and accompanied by soft words whispered to him or her. occasionally the dom would gently wrap their sub with a blanket and with an arm on or under the shoulder accompany the person to a side room where they could relax and unwind with a glass of water and the company of others. Several times I saw a person who had just finished staggering in a blissful state of endorphin induced intoxication. The pleasure of this state was written on their face and very evident in their body language.

One more aspect of the community that I found heartening was the representation of all body types. People in various states of undress were comfortable enough and secure enough to be observed by not only their friends but by complete strangers such as myself. My admiration for them is great and it gives me a new perspective on my self consciousness. The willingness of participants to avail themselves of such freedom without shame is heartening and encouraging and serves to challenge my cynical notions of a society ruled by body conscious shame.

I say with no reservation that I was greatly impressed with what I saw. Though previously corrected of many erroneous assumptions by Sweetpea, I was educated by the displays of strength, endurance, tenderness, and love that I observed last night. From what I saw, I can honestly say that it was beautifully done and that it is likely that I could actually participate in such activities in the future, though to what extent I am not exactly sure of at this time. It was clearly demonstrated to me that the scene lacks the cruelty that one would understandably assume accompanies such activities. The fact that 200 plus people can gather together in a drug and alcohol free environment and share these experiences with each other is nothing short of incredible.

Thrift store threads

Family Outings

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Hey!
I forgot to tell y’all.
I came out to my mom and brother last Thursday!
I was planning on doing it in person but my brother left a message saying he knew exactly what was up after I sent them an email letting them know I’d be down next month with some big news.
So I called and talked to mom. Turns out they’d figured out something else entirely different! Bro had figured out that I’d taken up romantically with my long time friend, Miss Bee, and formed a triad with her and Sweetpea. Mom figured that I’d taken up with her and was planning to leave Sweetpea!
Mom and bro have known her as long as I have ever since I brought her home some 25 years ago and they love her as much as I do. We were very close then and have been since we reconnected three years ago. Actually, our friendship has grown closer since I came out to her and also since she left a dysfunctional long-term relationship. She’s the sister I never had and she thinks of me as the brother she never had. We’ve never so much as kissed. We simply offer each other genuine friendship, support, and counsel.

I told mom what my big news was before she told me what they’d come up with. I mentioned it pretty casually since I thought they knew. Since it wasn’t even close, she was quite surprised and taken aback. I apologized for being so matter of fact about it and said I should have worked up to it a bit. Hindsight is 20/20…

The upshot of it is that both she and my brother were / are 100% supportive and accepting! In reality they were relieved, “Whew! He’s just bi and not with another woman.” It hasn’t changed a thing and they both told me their love is not lessened a bit by it! They were honestly surprised and so happy that Sweetpea has been able to accept it and be supportive and encouraging about it. They were glad to hear that Miss Bee was the first one that I came out to and could not think of a better person to do it with. Both were also pleased to hear that I’d found somebody to form a relationship with and am taking things very slow, not rushing into anything. They greatly admire Sweetpea for not feeling threatened by him and are amused by the fact that he can call here and Sweetpea thinks it’s cute when he does. SP has said she doesn’t mind if my “mistress” calls me though I told her he’s more like my “mister”.   

I am very fortunate to have the friends and family that I do. I have heard so many stories of folks like me who when they finally came out with it have been faced with rejection and hostility. I count myself lucky in so many ways. Miss Bee frequently reminds me of just how wonderful a wife I have in Sweetpea. She is so right and I thank her for this. It not only refreshes my perspective but also reminds me that others admire her for her open and loving acceptance of me.

On another front, I came out to my cousin. He came out as gay to his family when he was 16-17. He was disowned by his mom, dad, and siblings. My mom had / has no problem with it nor do my brother and I. Jairus was so deeply hurt that he refuses to talk to any family member, direct or extended. It took me three years to contact him. I wrote to him of my status to let him know that I truly identify with him on his life in a way that other family members just can’t. He wrote back telling me that he has decided that he needs to focus on his life and does not have any room or time for blood family in it anymore. It was a real slap in the face. Granted, we are about 20 years apart in age and the last time I saw him he was about 7 years old, so I don’t really know him well. But hey! I let him know that me, my brother, and our mom all love him, care about him, and fully accept him. I guess I expected a positive response. He’s a young guy, in college, sort of idealistic and naïve… I’m hoping he’ll come around some day. In the meantime it still hurts my heart to know that he’s not willing to communicate with me or the family members who truly do love him.

Bi and married? How the hell is that working out for you?

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 I’ve been reading “Getting Bi: Voices of Bisexuals Around the World”. There are a number of stories in there that I can identify with and that validate my, as well as my wifes’, feelings on a healthy and open marriage.
I’ve received a number of concerned comments from friends on our arrangement that have questioned the wisdom of our decision. I understand these concerns. We have an uncommon situation. We’ve been married for fourteen years, most of them quite happily.
Here are some passages that resonate with me.
From Nanna A. Mansa:
“Can a bisexual woman be married to a man and still have female lovers without turning her life into a total mess? Many of my friends don’t understand our marriage and way of life, but my husband and I agree that I should have my cake and eat it too, without guilt.”

“I met my husband 4 1/2 years ago and we married last year. When we met I wasn’t aware of my bisexuality – that came later. Before I came out, I would look into the mirror and wonder whether the person in there was me or somebody else… I had a long period where I felt lost and everything seemed wrong.”

“My husband respects my bisexuality. He says he loves me for who I am, and I wouldn’t be the same person if I weren’t bisexual.”

“I love my husband deeply. He is the love of my life and my foundation.”

From Koen Brand:
“Over the years I have occasionally felt sexual attraction toward other men. I never acted on it. My wife knew about it, Because I had told her. So it was my wife who gave voice to my same-sex attractions, which I had denied even to myself until that moment. After talking with Annette I decided that I had to integrate that side of myself into our lives. I love my wife dearly for bringing up a subject that brought into her life a lot of uncertainty about the future.”

“Ignoring my bisexuality had been hard on me. Accepting this change was a challenge.”

“In the past five years we have opened our marriage. My first boyfriend was another bisexual married man, and we dated with the consent of our wives.”

“To us monogamy was not the most important issue. Staying married was far more important because we have such a good life together. We have helped each other to grow. We have a strong emotional and sexual bond that we want to preserve.”

“Our road is not a conventional one. But for us it works. From the beginning we have stated that we chose to go on together and handle this change in our relationship as something to integrate in our marriage and not as a reason to split up. I must say that I did not get negative reactions on that, although my wife still hears from others that they don’t understand her agreement to my having male friends.”

“When I look at the situations of other people I have met, it seems we have been able to make a quick and relatively smooth transition. Annette is comfortable with my bisexuality, and the past five years have brought us even closer than before.”

Seeing other husbands and wives who’ve accepted and embraced their partner’s bisexuality gives me hope. Not just for me but for others who are not there yet. I was afraid, though only a little, that my revelation would blow our family apart. I knew my wife was a very accepting person but had no idea of just how deep and caring she would be. She has shown me how secure she is in our relationship and how deeply she loves me by her willingness to share. She does not believe the commonly held assumption that my sharing my love with others will leave her in a deficit condition. She realizes that there is enough love within me to have more than enough to share with me. Her acceptance has allowed our love to multiply, has deepened our bond. It has allowed me to realize my feelings as a constructive addition to our union. She is an amazing woman and I am so very fortunate to have her as my wife. I could never have imagined this arrangement ten years ago. I don’t know where my life will lead me in the next ten years but I am confident that we will be together, in love and life.

I hope other couples can look at our example, our life together, and realize that feelings for others do not have to threaten feelings for each other.

Take it one step at a time and work with each other. It is possible.

Come out when you’re ready

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Coming out about your sexual identity is a very personal decision. One that should not be driven by others or their opinions. If done “wrong” it might have negative or downright disastrous consequences. I am uncomfortable when I hear or read that one should come out as soon as they realize who they truly are. I was discussing this with my wife this afternoon. I told her that if I had come out 20 years ago that I would have been wrong. We’d have never met. 20 years ago I would have come out as gay. There’s nothing wrong with being pure gay, nothing at all. But for me it would have been wrong. I had feelings for men that I could not reconcile with my feelings for women. I thought in terms of a sealed dichotomy consisting of either/or. I did not understand or even comprehend that there was a both/and option. Although I knew the term bisexual, I didn’t understand the term, in fact, I completely misunderstood it and had a completely wrong working definition of the term. I understood it as many do today, as I understood it until only months ago. I assumed that bisexuality was a term for people who couldn’t get enough sex from one gender and had to include the gender to which they belonged in order to satisfy their insatiable sexual appetites. Pretty ignorant, I know. I thought that a bisexual must be a very confused individual addicted to a buffet of sexual pleasures without regard to gender. Quite narrow. A bisexual seemed to me to be a sexual opportunist looking to get some where ever it was available at the time. What a wrongheaded view. A person identifying as bi must surely be gay but is still holding on to loving the opposite sex because they can’t admit or cope with the fact that they’re gay. Bullshit.

It had never occurred to me that a bisexual human being could be a stable, loving person who is interested in forging deep and meaningful relationships with other stable, loving people. I was basing my definition solely on the ‘sexual’ part of the term. I failed to see that they were me. I have always been a relationship focused lover. Not that one night stands and flings are a bad thing, they were just not a part of my sexual development. I see that as both a good and a bad thing. That’s just me. Please don’t take it as me passing judgement on others for their relationship choices.

It still blows my mind that I didn’t fully realize what the term means in reality. It shames me to know that while I had admiration and acceptance of the GL_T crowd, I was pretty fucking ignorant on the B part. I remember being jealous of the gay kids in junior high and high school. I was so impressed that they were able to come out and be, for the most part and by most people, accepted. To me it seemed that they were pretty damned happy and were doing just fine in getting on with their lives.

My failure to understand the term that defines my sexuality was a huge stumbling block and a source of tremendous pain and confusion. My life would most certainly have had an entirely different trajectory had I only realized that I had the both/and choice. Going back to my initial thoughts in this post, I am glad that I didn’t jump 20 years ago. I would have made the wrong choice for myself and sealed off half of the people who I love and the one that I love above all others.

I’m very glad I waited.

Tend your own garden, please

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As I have come to accept the fact that I am able to love both women and men, I have also come to accept the fact that I am able to love myself. This is possibly the most important lesson learned during my discoveries. The old dictum is absolutely correct. One must love one’s self before one may love another. One of the ways I can tell that I love myself is the absence of the self-abuse which had been a part of my life to one degree or another for nearly four decades. Chemical, physical, psychological, sexual. Substance abuse. Risk taking. Self hate & suicidal ideation. Denial of physical sexuality.
These are gone. I have no longer have a use for them.

—

 
Something else I have realized as of late is the equivalence of caution and judgement.
A few friends have expressed concerns about my well-being and that of my relationship with my wife. I understand your concerns. You need to understand this: Repeated cautions are dangerous to OUR relationship, friends, truly they are. For when you continually voice your opinion that I should do this or shouldn’t do that, these suggestions come across as judgements. When you voice these judgements in a public way, as rejoinders to my words as expressed in a public forum, these judgements tell others that you don’t trust MY judgement. This is not acceptable.
You must bear in mind that Sweetpea and I have had many deep discussions about where I am and where I am going. When I came out to her I truly had no idea what would come next. I had an inkling that now that I knew what and who I was, that that would be enough. The psychic pressure was relieved by the simple knowledge and acceptance of that internally. I had no intention of becoming a practicing bisexual, none at all. My relationship with my wife was paramount and primary. When she not only accepted who I discovered lived inside of me but also encouraged that man to emerge, explore, and enjoy himself, it was almost more than I could believe. She has suggested non-fiction and educational literature that I may want to read to learn more about who I am and what it means. She has offered me some of her favorite gay erotica to read. Yes, HER favorite male-male gay erotic fiction that she has been reading for years unbeknownst to me (this partially explains her easy and open acceptance of my new reality). She has told me of the boundaries she is comfortable with. We have discussed the possible outcomes of my future relationships with men that I intend to become involved with. We have discussed the fact that some of these people may want more of a permanent relationship, one that does not include a wife on my part and how this is unacceptable to both of us. She is the one that equipped me with protection, though I had already done so, before going to Burning Man and encouraged me to explore my friend or others who would be there. She is the one who has told me that it is important that I no longer deny myself that which I have desired for so long. She is the one that has told me that it is important to her that I express and experience myself to the fullest extent to which I feel comfortable. She knows what she is in for and is very aware of what may happen in the future.
Believe me friends, I know the risks that lay ahead of me on this new path, in these new fields, in these new beds that lay before me. Believe me when I say this. Believe. Know that I accept your fears. But also know this: I am deeply involved in my relationship with my wife. I know us. Trust me. I have far more of a vested interest in the continued success of this relationship than you will ever know or will ever imagine. You cannot possibly appreciate the nuances of our relationship just as I do not presume to know them in yours.  I have been blessed with something far beyond acceptance. Permission. While I do need your love, I do not require your permission. That I already have. Continued insistence and continued warnings come across as a subtle but no less corrosive form of intolerance. As a form of distrust and misgiving. Even as a form of jealousy. That you may not accept these, my interpretations of your intentions, is of no matter to me. The matter to me is that you accept me for who I am. Who I am includes my choices and my freedom to make those choices unhindered by your misgivings and worries. The best thing that you can do is to keep these insecurities to yourself. I would not dare to offer you marital advice in a public manner. All I ask is the same consideration from you. I ask this in love, in friendship. If you truly feel that you must administer a warning to me, that you must share your fears of failure with me, please do so in a private communication. To do otherwise is to advertise to the world that you lack confidence in my ability to make decisions for myself without your guidance and input. It not only shows disrespect to me, it shows in a very public way that you discount the wisdom of my wife and elevate your knowledge and judgement above that of hers.
I love you,
Foxfur

Intolerance at my door

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Wow! So soon?

This morning, two christian missionaries knocked on my door and wanted to share some good news and bible revelations with me. I decided to begin our conversation by discussing some of the revelations I’ve had in the past couple of months.

They were more than a little shocked at my story and especially so, visibly so, at Sweetpea’s response to it. They wasted no time in page flipping to quote me chapter and verse of how I was wrong. Of how god hates sinners. They actually said that to my face. God hates sinners. Ouch. That hurt. They suggested that I examine myself and pray for god’s wisdom and correct my evil ways. I informed them that I had examined myself and I was completely comfortable with myself, who I am, and god’s love for me. In fact, I have talked to god about it. He’s totally fine with me and very glad that I have stopped hating myself for what I thought I was and have started loving myself for who I truly am. He has blessed me with a wife who has gone beyond anything I had ever guessed she would and who loves me unconditionally like he does.

They then shared that the gates of hell are open and waiting for me not only for who I am but for blasphemy against god. I was not feeling very uplifted or inspired. Perhaps I was expecting too much from them. What I was expecting was a give and take conversation. A civilized discussion of ideas. Perhaps a bit of understanding. What I received was hate. It was ugly and totally devoid of the love and compassion. To me, it felt like they directly contravened what god has asked his followers to consider and practice. It appeared that they themselves were passing judgement on the spot and all too hastily to have considered what potential damage they might be doing not only to their own credibility but to that of their core mission and focus. I pointed this out to them. They responded that god leads them in all that they do. I responded that it did not appear that they’d asked godand had acted impulsively in passing judgement on me. I asked them if they’d like to take a moment to reflect on that and that we could bow our heads and pray about it together if they wished, heh heh. Their eyes were shooting sparks like that wind-up nun you can buy at Spencer’s. I wasn’t trying to elicit that response. I was trying to give them a moment to consider what kind of impact they were having on me. They had no interest whatsoever in taking a pause to cool off and consider the message that they had just delivered.

Do you know what I really wanted to do to them at that moment. I wanted to hug and let them know that we’re all special in god’s eyes no matter what we do, who we love, or how we choose to express that love. To hug them into submission to the fact that we can all be wrong about things and that it’s ok as long as we don’t hurt others feelings or insult them because they do not agree. To show them that even though we are in complete disagreement on interpretations of what morals and ethics mean that we can still love each other.

Though I wanted to, I did not. It would’ve been a threatening gesture and perhaps insulting one as well. Instead, I related those thoughts verbally. I’m disappointed to report that the reception fell short of what I’d have liked to have seen. I told them that though we disagreed and though they still showed me open hostility that I loved them. That I respected them for opening themselves up to rejection and ridicule from less than understanding souls who might heap grief upon them for sharing their message. That theirs is a decidedly difficult path to walk and must take incredible strength to persevere in the face of such obstacles. I made sure that they understood that I meant this from the bottom of my heart and meant no insincerity or insult. They had cooled somewhat at this point. I asked them if we could agree to disagree and let god sort it out. They really surprised me with small nods. Again, I truly wanted to offer each of them a hug to let them know that I wasn’t angry with them though I had every right to be. Instead, I walked them to their car and wished them safety as they continue their mission deeper into the hills of the hollow up the road. I also told them that I forgave them for their insult to me and my beliefs and those of my wife’s and for committing trespass upon my property. I waved and they actually waved back as the did a seven point turn to turn around and drive back down the mountain.

My apologies to readers expecting snark and venom. That was a choice I had in this encounter. One that was incredibly tempting. God was it tempting. But I decided that the only way to deal with intolerance is acceptance. It was difficult maintaining my cool at times but was a great demonstration to myself that it could not only be done but be done well. I really do hope they will think about how their behavior reflects upon them and what they hope to accomplish. I could have shoveled them a much bigger pile of hate than they served up to me, believe me, I’ve got plenty of surplus from years of hating myself that would have been all too easy to misplace and project. Sometimes we need to do that which we don’t want to do. After we do it we can see why it was a better decision. I feel bad for them and their intolerance. I don’t feel bad about myself though. If I’d have chosen the angry way I’d probably still be shaking with anger. Instead I feel a satisfying calm and tranquility. I like that.

I haven’t been to church in more tha 20 years due to the all too common politics and infighting present in any church. I’m done with having someone filter and interpret information for me. Me and god are still friends. We still talk from time to time. Please don’t waste my time trying to tell me that your church is different. It’s not.

Fighting fire with fire does have its place though. Had these been true haters instead of misguided individuals my response would have been much different. While I carry love in my heart I also carry a .45 automatic on my side. That’s my other savior.

She Knows!

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She now knows.

She knew long ago.

The self deception and hiding is over.

Life 2.0 begins.

Sweetpea has once again amazed me with the depths of her knowledge. After 18 years of faithful companionship, we are now beginning a whole new chapter. She has been ahead of me for so many years but had decided that unless I owned myself then her input could only confuse me and lead me on a path that would not have been mine. Long ago she had known where and who I was. In fact, she knew before we were married that I was capable of loving and had feelings for members of both sexes, though I’ve never acted upon such feelings. Her approach was absolutely correct and I love her more deeply now than I ever believed possible. Any sooner would have been too soon and I would not have been ready.

She has encouraged me to begin my education and exploration independently of her. She does not want to litter my path with her own biases, unintended though they would be, because it is my path alone. Her willingness to go hands-off, her strong belief that trust is key, and her permission to do what I feel I need to do to be truly happy and feel good about and comfortable with myself, is something that I never would have imagined. Nearly four decades of denial, confusion, self abuse, and inner anger over why I had to feel as I did are now over. Instead of fighting a usless inner battle to change what is not changeable, I can now stand down and admit to myself that I was not wrong, sick, or disturbed. It is amazing how societal ‘norms’ caused such inner turmoil and hate for myself.

My dear friend who helped me come to terms with myself simply listened, made no judgements and helped me to feel positive in accepting myself for who I am.

I wrote her a note the following day:

Tonight, for the first time ever, I was able to look in the mirror, meet my own eyes, and honestly say that I love myself.

What seems easy to most was something I could never do. I really had no concept of loving and being comfortable with myself. I did have long periods of happy times, but it always was in the back of my mind that I just wasn’t right, wasn’t ‘normal’. 

I fully realize that there are many who will not accept the decisions we have come to. I can only hope that they will be respectful of my right as a human being to live without their interference or imposition of their views upon me just as I am respectful of them and their beliefs.

I fully realize that there are people out there who would wish to do me physical harm because of who I am. I will do my damned level best to assure my safety by whatever means necessary, including the use of deadly force if warranted. I will not be a passive victim, I will not go down without one hell of a fight. I am determined to defend myself so that I may continue to live and breathe, so that I may continue to provide for and protect my wife, and so that I may continue to develop as a newly realized and healthy person.

Is this new outlook scary? Sure. Intimidating? Of course. Exciting? Absolutely.
 
I have a whole new understanding of open relationships. I assured Sweetpea that I have no intention of leaving her at any point. Her condition, disabled in an auto accident 13 years ago (10 months after we married), would never permit me to do so. I simply could not live with myself in abandoning her. She needs me and I need her every bit as much. Our original deep and abiding love is not threatened and only grows stronger with trust.

She’s told me that what she desperately wants is for me to find what I need to feel fulfilled. That all she ever wants is for me to feel happy with myself and to love myself. Whatever that takes. I asked if we could set some boundaries together. She felt that it would be inappropriate for her to participate in setting boundaries and that I should follow my heart. Wow… What an amazing woman I have the fortune to be with! 

I stand amazed.

I love you Sweetpea.