I was a young girl, confused by her own arousal. Making up stories of being kidnapped, and not sure why.
I was a college girl, innocent of boys. Until he taught me to kiss. And he taught me to bite. And they taught me a whole lot more.
I was a young woman, sending explicit messages across the internet. To men and women I had never met. Learning about what turned me on, but rarely able to act on it.
I was a college graduate, visiting Australia. To meet my Daddy who wasn’t a Daddy, but who taught me about myself and my kinks. What they were and what they weren’t, at least not yet.
I was a nervous twenty-something, soon to be married, and missing connections with the local community. Until I moved somewhere without a community. Married to someone who didn’t yet understand, with no one to guide us.
I was a nearly thirty year old, finding the community for the very first time. Feeling seen. Feeling understood. Feeling welcome.
I met lover at my very first event, a class at a public venue. Nervous and shy. I met him a few months later at a munch. Still nervous, but less shy.
I was new and confused and curious and spinning with desires. I jumped in head first, stumbling many times. Falling flat on my face, flying high into the air.
I was learning and sharing and trying and experiencing.
It wasn’t long before I was neck deep and nearly drowning.
But the community was there. He was there. Lover, in his own way, was there.
My now-ex was there, trying to swim and navigate those waters, too. But we had already started drifting apart by then. Finding different paths.
So much has happened since then. Now, I teach and lead and organize. I snag time with him when we can. Practicing and learning together. Playing at the rare event we do not run.
Now, I try to branch out again. Make new connections. Go to new events. Make my community bigger, even though I much prefer my couch to a crowd.
New friends, new scenes, new classes. Find that fire again. Live life to the fullest once more.
