Lovergirl mentioned something to me offline that was quite valid in reference to “More Summer Heat,” that being her reluctance to comment on how hot that particular memory of mine was because she didn’t want anyone to think that she was encouraging adults having sex with kids.
A good point; there are probably a lot of readers who are feeling some kind of way about that and I actually don’t blame them if they do. I then wrote “A Fact of Life” because I felt it necessary to explain a few things that I learned – the adult looking back at what the kid was doing and, clearly, not only was the kid not all that concerned about it – other than getting busted – but the adult is made to accept some hard facts, like if something like that happened here in 2013, there’d probably be hell to pay. But that was back in the 1960s; even the adult doesn’t know what laws were in effect back then but what I do know for a fact that I didn’t know or care about them back then and more so when I grew up in a time where you could get your ass beaten with an extension cord and no one would pitch a bitch about it.
I shared the memory for several reasons, the most important one being my ability to remember things after I had my stroke; doing all this writing is therapy and it’s been working out pretty good for me. I shared the memory, not to shine any lights on grown-up wrongdoings – it was just something that I experienced and relative to my bisexual awakening and, yeah, y’all should know me well enough by now to know that I’m not going to gloss it over. And, as I told Lovergirl, where you might read that and see victims, I’m telling you – and because I was there (duh) – that there were no victims, an illustration of how such things can happen because of a willingness for it to happen.
One of the things I have to do when I drag these memories out of my head is to not look at them as an adult – I must remember the precocious and very curious version of myself who discovered something he wasn’t supposed to so when I share these memories, I’d ask that you look at them in this same way – it keeps you from having headaches. When I look at these things, I look at them to understand how I got to be the way I am now; I learned not to shy away from the evidence of how I got to love being bisexual.
And you shouldn’t either. See the sex; see those moments of youthful insanity where the thrill of (a) having sex and (b) finding out how much fun getting dick was. Sure, you can’t help from taking the adult view and saying, “Wow, that’s some fucked up shit!” But that’s not what the memories are about and, trust me, I haven’t even mentioned any of the shit I saw that was totally and completely fucked up.
It illustrates things that we, as a society, are too eager to turn a blind eye to; my adult version understands this, just like he understands that my early experiences were not unique, i.e., I’m not the only kid who ever got dropped into the deep end of the pool – I just happened to be one who didn’t mind one bit and I’m one of the ones who didn’t get all fucked up in the head about it – I know too many of my peers back then who didn’t fare as well as a lot of us did.
Sordid and distasteful? Yeah, the adult in me sees that… the kid knew it, too… but what I experienced back then doesn’t as much say things about me as it says a lot about how and why people behave the way they do when it comes to sex and, yes, for me to be okay with those experiences, I was made to look at it without the rose-colored glasses. As I said, I could go on a rampage about those times when, let’s say, something that’s very illegal today happened; I could cry foul, talk about how damaged I became at having my so-called innocence snatched away in a moment of drunken indiscretion.
I could call myself a victim… but I know I wasn’t… and I’m telling all of you that I wasn’t. The adult version of myself looks back and says, “Yeah, well, that first time was kinda fucked up.” However, I remember what the kid was thinking and feeling and that’s what I pay more attention to when I bring these things up and analyze what I was thinking and why I was thinking it. For me, it wasn’t about being victimized: It’s about understanding why I am the way I am.
I tell you, my readers, first, because I can – I have no shame about those things at all even though the adult says, “Yeah, okay, maybe I shouldn’t have done any of that…” – which doesn’t ever changed the fact that I did. Like I also told Lovergirl, people have it in their heads that kids can’t make such decisions, that we’re too immature, uneducated, and otherwise incapable of rational thinking. My memories tell me – and say to you – that, no, that’s not always the truth – but that’s the truth we want to accept. We hold true to the fact that adults should never take advantage of the immature or clueless folks… doesn’t mean they they didn’t back then and in my memories, any adult in the picture didn’t take advantage – they got taken advantage of and not just by me. Sure, it shows a weakness in the adult mind at that period of time… but that’s not what this is all about.
It’s about what’s in my head and the things I learned about sex and, no, I learned what I learned in a manner that our society forbids; society thinks – and morality dictates – that no one should ever have to learn what I learned and in the way that I did. The adult says, “Right…;” the kid said, “Bring that shit on! I can’t get enough of it!” And, yeah, I admit that I couldn’t; it’s the thing that makes me say that people who can’t get their heads around this just do not understand the delicious thrill of doing the one thing you were told never to do… but, if you have done some shit that you knew that you weren’t supposed to do, maybe you do understand even if your adult version ain’t too fond of what the implications mean today.
Lovergirl used the word ‘pedophile’ when we talked. Frankly, I don’t remember any being in our neighborhood and anyone we deemed to be creepy was, in fact, avoided like the plague – you should have heard some of the horror stories we were told about creepy men like hobos and the few homeless guys wandering around. So, no, my memories ain’t about being preyed upon; in fact, that didn’t happen to me until I was unfortunately raped many years later – and that was yet another lesson learned because I was ‘dumber’ then than I was during my cock whore phase.
People want to believe that youngsters don’t have sex… and, oh, man, are they so very wrong. True, they shouldn’t have sex until they’re legally capable of making that important decision but, yeah, it really does happen way before that age comes around; my memories support this and the adult version of myself understands that even though it’s not supposed to happen; the kid version of me says, “Yeah, right…”
I am bisexual. I know how I became that way just as I know all that I did along the way. I write this to not only remind myself but to share my sexuality with those who care to read about it. Don’t any of you who care to read this get into your head that I was a victim; I know what laws say but, in this, if I didn’t see myself as a victim, you shouldn’t either. If my idea of an adult back then was involved, do I see myself as being abused? Nope, not at all; again, I didn’t get abused until I got raped. All that shit I did back then didn’t ruin me in any way; it didn’t make me shy away from sex or see it as the evil the grown-ups back then said it was. Sure, there are times when the adult I am today looks back at all that shit and asks, “Boy, what the fuck were you thinking about? Huh?”
Here’s what I admit to myself and to you who read about my memories: I was thinking about sex. I was thinking about eating pussy, sucking dick, fucking and being fucked – nothing more, nothing less. I was thinking about doing the shit that I was told not to do… and probably because I was told not to do it. I was doing all that shit because when I asked why I shouldn’t do this or that, the main answer I got was, “Because I said so.” I grew up in a time where there was no such animal as sex education; whatever you learned, you learned in the streets because, back then, parents weren’t even trying to tell their kids the real deal about it other than to tell them not to do something, using scare tactics to keep them from discovering sex, and other good and moral mind-fucking techniques.
And I learned some shit, folks, and the adult version of me understands that what I learned was important; see, the kid didn’t know how important those lessons would be later on in life – all he knew is that he learned to eat pussy, suck dick, and fuck both boys and girls and that despite how the adult version looks at things, that shit was a lot of fun. I didn’t wait until I was, say, 16 to learn the facts of life – I got a head start.
When I write these memories, in a way, it’s the kid I used to be telling the story while the adult does the typing (and sometimes shakes his head). Even today, there are times when I just can’t believe that I behaved the way I did because, of course, the adult version wouldn’t behave like that because he eventually learned not to. Except for a few holes that are still unreachable in my mind, a lot of my memories are intact and/or coming back to the surface – overall, this is a very good thing for me.
And, finally – and I know y’all were wondering when I was going to stop writing – what I know is that there are a lot of people who just will not talk about how they became bisexual and if there are curious guys out there, well, what are they gonna find out about this if no one is willing to share their experiences? I actually envy today’s bi and bi-curious guys – there’s a wealth of information they can access to help them understand why they feel the way they do. Me? I learned the ‘hard’ way – I learned by doing.
And I don’t have a problem telling you what I did as I dove deeper into the pool of bisexuality and even in the murkier parts of the pool. It happened. I survived it. I fucking loved it. Hell, if anything, I’m kinda pissed that I grew up because as an older bisexual now, I’m having less fun today than I was way back then!
I hope you understand and are not offended…