TW: CNC, suicide, sexual assault, rape fantasies, Primal Predator

What have I become?
I'm a fucking monster
When all I wanted was something beautiful.
  — Meg Myers; Monster; Daughter in the Choir (2012)

You know, life's a funny thing, when you look back on it. It turns out that a certain popular user on a certain fetish site was right about me being a predatory shark after all (even if it was a stupid joke I didn't find remotely funny at the time). I just wasn't ready to admit it then; she hit a raw nerve and I reacted badly. That wasn't fair of me.

Well, for a long time (most of my life, actually), I've been afraid of my shadow self and running from it. (The brightest lights cast the longest shadows, after all. The more light you have access to, the longer the shadow gets.) The mere idea of identifying as Primal and exploring my darker/base side made me deeply uncomfortable because it seemed to be in stark contrast to everything I stand for. (How does a Feminist, who's had his own first-hand experiences of sexual assault, who deeply respects women and wants to treat them with decency, reconcile that with urges to fuck them senseless and not care if they enjoy it? That was my conundrum, although I didn't have the words/courage to express it back then.)

Then my world went to hell in a handbasket, because the consternation was tearing me apart. I lost my ex. (K wasn't kinky to begin with. I felt she would never understand my dilemma if I couldn't understand it myself). I lost my job because the depression (the knowing something was deeply wrong but not what to do about it) sapped me of my motivation and will to live. If you don't care to struggle through your own stressful shit, you're not going to care to struggle through other people's.

I had no choice but to face the life I'd made for myself through the accumulated bad choices and avoidance. (I'm not sure I'm doing much better now, but fuck it; shit happens and I get back on the bus if/when I fall off.) I was ready to literally drop out of my life by force and with a rope around my neck, but failed to do so (thankfully). So a month in the loony bin, regular shrink appointments and a lot of self-reflection and introspection later, I've come to realise that I don't have to be either a hideous, ravenous monster or a sweet, well-mannered upstanding gentleman. I'm both and neither at the same time. That is the paradox of being human in Maya; it doesn't have to be answered or solved, merely accepted.

To cut a long story short, one or two carefully-worded and negotiated rape fantasies (delivered by DM, of course) in the context of CNC erotica later … I'm sticking with "Primal Predator" and am regularly in contact with a stunner who has my digits and is more than fine with the fact that I'm primarily interested in her purely sexually (although, given that sex to me is largely mental, I can't see that that's a bad thing). I'm not here for her drama or to be her confidant; she's not here for mine or to be mine. We discuss vanilla stuff, because that's how life happens, but it started out pretty much as, "Hey; you're stunning and I'd like to fuck you", although in far politer words. It just goes to show; it's not so much what you write as how you write it and choosing your audience.

And maybe there's no harm, there's no harm, there's no harm in you —
So watch what you say;
There's a beast that's in me.
  — The Boxer Rebellion; No Harm; The Cold Still (2011)

I can barely speak …
Black and white bed sheets.
I feel the air retreat.
I know you're here with me.
  — Meg Myers; Heart, Heart, Head; Make a Shadow (2014)

Post/thumbnail photo by Elianne Dipp from/on Pexels