Harley vs. Honda...a life lesson I am learning

Not too long ago, I wrote about the 'abyss within,' which describes the level of depression I have experienced in my life, and how it is constantly lurking in the shadows every day, threatening to take me over again at any moment. I want to expand on this topic a bit, because it is on my mind today.

I would have to venture to guess that 8 out of 10 people have a self-destructiveness inside them, and yes folks, I have this too, so you're not alone. Who knows, maybe it's 9 out of 10. I think it's one of the universal timeless human flaws of mankind. It certainly explains war, violence, and hatred. I don't know why it's there, or why God allows us to have it, but maybe that stupid apple in the Garden of Eden is to blame. Who knows. All I do know, is we all have this to some extent. And it's a bittersweet double-edged sword that sometimes kills us a little bit.

Here's an example: Every time those of you who smoke go to light up that cigarette, I know you have that self-destructive thing happening...a tiny rebellious feeling of, "SEE! I AM KILLING MYSELF IN BROAD DAYLIGHT, RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU, AND THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO TO STOP ME!! TAKE THAT WORLD! I HATE YOU ALL! LET ME BREATHE MY STENCH OF SMOKE ON YOU! I MAY DIE BEFORE YOU, SURE, BUT I WILL BE IMMORTAL!! I WILL BE REMEMBERED BY ALL OF YOU HERE NOW BECAUSE LONG AFTER I AM GONE, THE STENCH OF MY SMOKE WILL STILL LINGER IN THE AIR LEAVING A VAPOR TRAIL BEHIND ME AND YOU WILL HAVE TO BREATHE IT IN, TOO!! MMUUHAHAHAHA!!!" Oh yes, I know how you smokers think. You all have this self-destructive-masochistic-sadistic moment, maybe not to the extreme of my exaggerated example, but it's there, to some extent, and you know it.

Or how about tattoo addicts? The endorphin rush you get from the ink and the needle causes you to have a major HIGH, doesn't it? And wow, you can get stoned off your ass right in broad daylight, in front of everybody, and they all think it's COOL don't they, so wow, let's do that AGAIN and AGAIN and AGAIN...it's not an artform, it's an addiction folks, it's just another form of "trying to get your beastly animalistic needs fulfilled," in a legal way, especially when you're vanilla...when you are not into other addictive stuff like BDSM. That's all tattooes really are. It's not a personal expression, sure you choose a cute logo or photo or something, but ya know, it's more of the instant gratification of flying into those endorphins that the pain will cause you, without the sexual pleasure. THAT is the lure of tattoes. It's really just labeling yourself for the whole world to see, as a needy addict who doesn't know how to fulfill your own needs.

Or, what about, "Pass me that cake, so I can stuff my fat gob with it, because I have a need that isn't being fulfilled and therefore I must eat like a pig to fill that void, so that I will gain weight and create yet ANOTHER void in my life, (like an idiot), but right now I don't CARE I just want fucking CAKE!!" GIMME THAT BIG MAC DAMMIT!! I am CRAVING it...I NEED IT...I can't live WITHOUT it...I want that bag of DORITOS MAN, pass it over here, I'm watching mindless drivel stupidity on television and I need to feed my face while I'm doing it...

Oh yes, I've had those kinds of moments too, going from diet to diet all my life, trying to un-do the fat blobby mess I created during those times. When I am feeling down, I want to eat.

But, unlike Doctor Phil, (who's a collosal idiot if you ask me), or other armchair psychologists on lame-ass talk shows, I attribute this phenomenon within myself to an oral fixation that I never outgrew as a kid. I was created, after all, by my parents to 'save' their marriage from failing. I managed somehow to do this until I was 22 and they divorced anyway. But I just wasn't good enough to keep it going. This "not good enough" thing is my haunting personal hell, that drives me to do stupid shit in a self-destructive way.

Yesterday, I had a meltdown. I feel that I am not good enough for Pete. I demand too much, I want too much, I expect him to be just like Peter, and he's not, I know he's not, and never will be, I know it's stupid and unrealistic and unfair to even think such a thing----how can I be so ungrateful and hateful and hurtful, expecting and wanting so much for him to be the badass mean-cruel-controlling Daddy Dom that I need, all the while trying to learn how to get used to and accept the NICENESS, the gentleness, the tenderness he brings to my world, when he doesn't even really know me that well yet? It will just take TIME, and dammit I'm an impatient WHORE over here, don't you get it?! I am a self-destructive, demanding brat!! I don't WANT to sit around waiting for 2.5 years like I did with Peter, to get to that point. *Stomping my foot* I want it NOW!!

I feel that he's too good, too generous, too NICE to me, and what an IDIOT, doesn't he understand that I only respond to MEAN, BADASS kinda guys, because they treat me like the cum-slut that I really am? Nice guys finish last, they say, and that's exactly WHY---because a submissive's level of self-destructiveness can often overshadow the "normal vanilla daytime" persona that we have to slap on ourselves as a mask every day of our stupid lonely lives working out in the real world trying to make our way through life by ourselves, with needs that go unfulfilled and keep us in a state of constant craving. (KD Lang reference, she's right about it, there most certainly IS a constant craving going in in most submissive women).

The self-destructive side of me has made me do certain things that I am not proud of, but in hindsight, despite realizing they weren't exactly GOOD things, I also know I would absolutely do the same damned thing all over again if given the opportunity. Oh hell yes. Things like, meeting men on the internet, and an hour later, chatting for a bit in a public place, and then giving them a blowjob in their car before they leave, never to see them again. Oh yes, I've done this. Many times. Why? Because I have a constant craving, and I love giving blowjobs. And hey, I've not had a boyfriend in many years, so what else can I do when I am craving such a thing and there's nobody around to do it for? I'm certainly not going to stay home and twiddle my thumbs. I have self-destructive NEEDS, and dammit, I can't just sit around waiting for those needs to be met. Stupid, yes, but would I do it again? Probably.

THAT is the self-destructiveness inside me that nobody really understands. Or, if they do discover it, they leave me in the dust as they run out the door.

I am waiting for Pete to run out the door when he realizes all this. He says he won't. He says he's not going anywhere. But he hasn't reached the depths of this inside of me yet, and there is always that potential, that I fear. Pesky stupid fear of abandonment issue. It's like a gnat-fly in your face, or the annoying buzzing around your ear like a mosquito. Go away, fear of abandonment, you bother me.

My best friend's coworker (whom she flirted with and very nearly had an affair with years ago), walked out to his car one night after work, carrying several empty boxes---we were sitting in my car, next to his, and it was dark so I knew he would not recognize me. I yelled out to him, "Excuse me," and he said, "Yeah?" so I said, "I'm kinda new in town, and I was just wondering if you knew anybody that might want a blowjob right now, because I'm so fucking horny I might just go insane..." and as I said this, all of his empty boxes fell in a pile all around him while my best friend guffawed hysterically as she hid in the backseat---it was the funniest thing I ever said to a guy. He told us later he was ready to jump into my car at that very moment.

The power of a BJ is amazing.

Case in point: I gave Pete a BJ at camp, and now he's suddenly in love with me.

I mean, WTF?! Can't he just accept a friggin' BJ without falling head over heels in love with a slutty whore bitch from hell like me? Good GOD man, what are you THINKING?! Don't you SEE my self-destructiveness poking out through the goody-goody frumpy facade that I wear on the outside? There truly is some kind of mysterious power in a woman's warm wet mouth and tongue, I am convinced of this.

Yesterday I was feeling super reckless and self-destructive, agitated, restless and upset, (probably in overdue mode for a spanking), frazzled and panicked....so I told Peter in a crazy whim that I am going to the grocery store to buy some booze and get flat-ass damned DRUNK----and then I might just drive down to Richmond to give Terry a BJ, I mean why not, what the hell, I don't care, I just feel like it...(I can tell him these things, but I'm too afraid to tell PETE these things, he might take me seriously)....or I could just go to a parking lot somewhere and say the very same blowjob thing to some guy walking by, to see what happened...

When I said this, (and since he is used to my venting and crazed reckless feelings that come from being overdue for spankings), Peter snapped me out of it by saying, "But you KNOW the power of your BJ will make HIM fall in love with you too, and THEN WHAT?! Ya gonna move to Richmond instead?" ---and damn him to HELL---I had to giggle a bit. Ok ok, so I won't do that. He's got a point there. My wet warm mouth and tongue apparently holds some kind of blowjob magic, that is too powerful for me to use recklessly in such a way. I might launch a missle in some third world country without knowing it. I'd better harness that power and use it wisely. Dammit.

I tried to explain to Pete yesterday that he's been married to 2 older women, (well, they're both older than me), who did go through menopause while he was with them, (and oh boy I'll bet THAT was fun)...but he's never experienced a "youngun" like ME, who was 39 only a few months ago, and let me tell you people something---when a woman hits 35-45 in age, the SEXUAL PEAK TIME takes us over and eradicates all reason and logic. We suddenly turn into a teenaged horny boy out of nowhere, climbing the friggin' walls, and aching to be used, and abused, and fucked in every hole, constantly, 24/7...it's the most annoying thing I've ever endured in my old age so far...I've become a self-destructive nymphomaniac freak from hell, and I don't know why. I think God has a sadistic streak. I really do.

And so it trickles down from God, whom I blame for just about everything because it's convenient, into a self-destructive crazed, masochistic nympho like me.

I mean, HELL, I was a VIRGIN until I was 21 years old, folks. Keep that in mind. I was a prim and proper goody goody all my life. I mean, go back and take a look at my picture---I'm so mild mannered and FRUMPY lookin', you'd never GUESS that inside me lurks a wild beast of lust who loves BDSM and kink to the point of near-insanity. But, the truth is, I am most definitely caught up in the nymphoness and self-destructiveness of myself, and I have been like this for at least 5 years so far....with at least 5 or more years left to go. Oh what fun Pete's life will be, dealing with this crap, and how DARE I subject him to such a farce??

Am I really THAT EVIL, to make the poor guy jump through all these goddamned hoops all the time, confusing the fuck out of him, pushing him away like some idiot, tryingto make him hate my guts so he'll dump me like he eventually will anyway once he discovers this stupidity inside of me that rears its ugly head from time to time? During these moments, I hate myself. I want to just jump off a bridge and call it over, and neither Pete NOR Peter can have me, and fuck 'em both, I hate their guts for putting me in the middle like this, and the goddamned bastards, if they didn't FUCK ME SO GODDAMNED WELL all the time, I would most definitely dump them both.

..........these are the irrational ramblings of a crazed psycho submissive.

I reminded Pete that, in APRIL (which was only 3 months ago), I was heading towards my 40th birthday feeling the abyss take over again, and ready to just off myself and get it overwith...does he really think that 3 short months since knowing him will change that? This is something private that I've carried around most of my life, thinking I'm never going to make it through the next year, over and over and over, (a therapist once told me that Adult Children of Alcoholics often cannot envision a future, they never expect to live past 18)...and then miraculously somehow getting THROUGH that year, wondering how the hell I ever did, and why the hell do I have to do it AGAIN this year? Who says I have to? I don't WANT TO!!

Doesn't Pete get it? I know Peter does. And I think that's partially why Peter backs off and doesn't allow me to get closer to him. I think more than just his marital status prevents him from being with me in any other way than an occasional romp. Because I'm a psycho spazzy be-otch who apparently can't function properly.

I told Pete this morning that I felt like jumping off a bridge, and there were LOTS of bridges in Pittsburgh...so if things don't work out with him, then fine, I'm all done, fuck it, I'll jump. He said, "Just wait long enough for me to get to the bottom so I can catch you." But you see, that's the whole point, if I did indeed jump off a bridge, I don't WANT anybody to catch me!! AAAUUUGGGHHH!!

I'm just a friggin' loon, and he'll discover that soon enough, and dump me cold. That's usually how it goes. I'm too far gone to really turn back now. Ya know? And yesterday I was feeling like I had to give up a Harley to trade in for a Honda. That is, the "Harley" is figurative---if you've ever ridden one, you'll know what I mean--try taking a road trip one day on a Harley, and then the next day, take the same road trip on a Honda, and you tell ME if there's not a huge difference in bikes. You know damned well there is. Everybody on earth knows that is a given.

So too, is there a huge difference between the level of BDSM that I am currently experiencing with Peter, and the level that Pete is at. He is fairly new to all this stuff, and though he's been a Dom most of his life, he's still learning all the tricks and stuff...he's experienced in some things, but not in all the things I am used to. This weighs very heavily on my mind, and it's stupid, it's just FROSTING on the CAKE man, it's not EVERYTHING, why can't I sit back and enjoy the CAKE with just a tiny bit of frosting, why do I want to gorge myself on FROSTING all the time?!!

So I am now facing the logical fact that I really have to choose the Honda over the Harley---it's more gas efficient perhaps, this Honda, it's safer too, probably, it's less likely to create expensive repairs when needed, ok ok I get it, it makes much more sense to have a Honda, I know this----but wow, that's still going to be HARD for me. Ya know why? Because I am self-destructive, and I love riding that Harley.

I mean, for the past 2.5 years, I have gotten used to some wicked-wild heavy-duty limp ragdoll increased levels of BDSM pain mixed with pleasure here with Peter---sure, it took us the full 2.5 years to get to this point, he certainly did not start OUT this way with me, I could not handle it then. So I will admit that and say that Pete DOES have that very same potential, I can see that in him, and I am looking forward to getting there with him....but when I move there to Pittsburgh to be with him, I fear that I will only be starting over at the beginning again, on a Honda.

This has got me concerned. I don't know that I CAN do that, without going insane. When you're used to a certain level of this BDSM stuff, there's no way in hell you can just suddenly quit being at that level, to go back to a Honda-level, or worse, to a vanilla level. Thank God Pete is not vanilla. No way in hell. Not without losing your friggin' mind. It's not possible. So yes, cake and frosting be DAMNED, I am afraid, very afraid, that I will be unhappy in that respect. Sure, I'll have a man who loves me, and that's great---I am not taking that for granted because it's so new to me, and I am enjoying it very much---but I also need him to be a wicked wild leather-wearing badass Harley who can cause me more pain too.

See, BDSM people like me, actually welcome having physical pain mixed with pleasure. Peter explained why to me, yesterday as we chatted...he said it is because, rather than waiting for the "other shoe to drop," in life, or waiting for something that will cause me emotional pain come up unexpectedly from an unknown source, I can just wear some rope, put on my collar, and lay there with my ass high up in the air, anticipating the next lash of the flogger---knowing the pain is coming, but actually welcoming it---because it's not coming from an unknown source out in the real world of life. It's a CONTROLLED way of dealing with pain...it's an allegory really, of life in general, this BDSM stuff. Would you rather have pain inflicted on you unexpectedly from someone who is on a gun rampage while you're at the bank, for instance, or would you rather be in the safe confines of your bedroom, getting cropped, caned and/or whipped by someone you care about? Dealing with THAT kind of pain is MUCH MUCH EASIER than dealing with life-pain from out of nowhere.

There are pain sluts out there who would probably agree with me about this, as they have been through a lot of hurtful situations out there all alone in life, like I have. Submissive women like me have a very hard time being alone in life, dealing with painful things, and having nobody there to comfort when it's needed. I can only comfort myself so much, it doesn't always work very well. The comfort of having someone inflict a certain level of physical pain on me WHILE inducing pleasure at the same time, is something helpful to get me through the real world problems I face.

Pete is tender. He's loving. He is gentle. He's too damned NICE. I like tender, I like loving, I like gentle. But come on, I'm self-destructive ovuh heah, I need some PAIN, I need some MEANNESS, I need some wild Harley-riding badass Daddy Dom naughtiness too...

He needs to be meaner, grip my hair tightly in his fist, pinch my nipple hard, and shove my face down in his lap and skull-fuck me until I choke---force me to feel some pain while giving me sexual pleasure too---because the scariness of the unknown adventure that he's taking me on in the real world, is making me go friggin' bonkers---I am afraid that I will lose my mind and slide right down into this self-destructiveness, looking for somebody, ANYBODY to give me some of that Harley-naughty-goodness, if I'm just left to my own devices. I need more control from Pete.

I mean, hey, this is why I have been ENJOYING having both Pete AND Peter to romp around with, they said they would share me, so HEYYYY that means TWICE THE PAIN and TWICE THE PLEASURE!! YAYYY!!!

But I'm sure you've all figured out by now that the high's and low's of this sharing idea are like a roller coaster ride, and it's tearing me to shreds inside too. I know this. Yes, it does suck sometimes. But, here's the thing, I secretly actually welcome the tearing-me-into-shreds part, like most "other women" do with their married men-------because at least I can ANTICIPATE IT and PREPARE myself for it, and PLAN on going through it....I have some level of CONTROL over it----unlike the real world and life, where shit comes from outta nowhere to blind-side me all the goddamned time, throwing me into instant chaos, like the last job I had that was supposed to hire me permanently but didn't, after making me wait 8 months. I didn't see that coming at all. I couldn't plan on that, or prepare myself for it, it just suddenly came along and fucked me (and not in a good way), and there was nothing I could do about it.

Does this make any sense? To anybody? I hope so. It does to me. Makes perfect sense.

I want to ride the Harley off into the sunset of my future. I can take a Honda, sure, and eventually add more Harley parts to it, and then later have it transform into a Harley all on its own...do I have the patience for that transformation to occur? That is the unknown question that keeps me scared. Will I be able to help that transformation, to somehow "teach" it to become the Harley I need? Or will I have a difficult time trying to live without the thrill of the Harley?

These are the questions that I ponder today...the self-destructive death-wish that lurks inside me, of wanting to ride the Harley without a helmet at 150 miles an hour down a crowded rush-hour highway of traffic, weaving in and out of cars like a wild crazed biker chick from hell. Leaving the Honda in the dust miles behind me, wondering if it can ever catch up and keep up with me, wondering if I'll be able to nurture it enough to grow into what I need and want...can I do this?

I thought similar thoughts when I got my dog...I've never been able to keep a PLANT alive for very long, how the hell am I supposed to nurture and keep a DOG alive, it's completely dependent on ME to feed it, walk it, take care of it, bathe it, and provide for it for years and years and years....

Well, now I'm happy to report that my dog is one of the happiest creatures I've ever met on this planet, and I intend to strive to keep her that way as long as she's in my world. That dog showed me that perhaps I do have more potential than I think for such things, perhaps I do have patience enough to teach her to be housebroken, perhaps I can make her happy and keep her healthy, and it just somehow comes naturally to me, without much effort. So maybe, just maybe, I do have the ability to sustain a real romantic, serious, long-term loving relationship with Pete-the-Honda. Maybe I can do this, move to Pittsburgh and start a new life, and feel refreshed, and get away from the negativity of DC and be happier...do I dare dream of such things?? I've had those dreams crushed time and time again all through life. I'm too afraid to dream of such things...I'm scared to death...

...but maybe, just maybe, he'll surprise me. Maybe he's got a Harley sitting in his garage...just waiting to be dusted off and ridden without helmets down the crowded highway of rush hour traffic. Maybe we can tune-up that Honda, and turbo-charge that puppy and make it wild and reckless and thrilling together...

...MMMMM....I can't wait to see him in those buttless leather chaps...

So Dear GOD, if you're listening, please help me to get on the Honda, and please show me how to deal with taking a step or two back, in order to help transform this new relationship into the Harley badass BDSM goodness that I so need and crave and desire...help me to be strong enough and patient enough to nurture it and grow with it, help me to teach if necessary, help me to guide and encourage...help me to be a better and stronger person, and please dear God, help me to be less self-destructive.

Love, SASSY GIRL