Sometimes A Heart Is No Place To Be Singing From At All

For years I told lies to satiate powerful sexual desire. Through three long term relationships; two marriages and a serious five year girlfriend - I just heaped lie after mendacious invention after bald faced, flat-out fib on the pile of pursuing personal perversion. Now as I begin a difficult struggle to rid my body of a new, inadvertent craving; I realize I was an addict. For me, the white hotness of the secret sneak to the forbidden was an irresistable narcotic.

By saying this I make no accusation of enabling. Most prodommes totally rock. Some of the women I saw helped me so much. One has become the dearest of friends who will have to mercilessly drive me off if she wants to dump me. I am hers.

But I can also be another's. And even another's. Because there's room in my life. And just like the benzos will be gone, I am mostly free of desperate double crossing deceit. Secret sex has become merely private. It's my business.

Ms. Mahwah Kiss worries that I'll be "caught". She worries that someone will "out" me and I will be "discovered". What? The New York Post will find my blog and do some sort of salacious story about how a respected lawyer is actually a perv? Could my livelihood be affected? I guess so. But it's who I am. This blog and the open references I sometimes make to liking "controling women" have taken something I used be ashamed of and made it into a creative celebration. Welcome to 2010. I say bring it.

Bring it...and I'll deal.

That's why I was so disappointed to be lied to this past week by someone I'd hoped wouldn't have to be like me and hide. Look, I understand. It's supported by every right in the world. But it made me sad.

Sad for all the lies I'd told my wife. How I had repeatedly gaslighted her and denied the incontrovertible. How she'd believed me; until the next time and the time and again after that. My thirty three year surreptitious stealth eroded any semblance of intimacy.

Do I "man-up" by separating and dating kinky? For me, I have no choice. I choose me. I choose to get off my lovely mommy helpers because I miss the anxious, nervous, quivering little guy who said "I think I can, I think I can" often enough to become a successful professional and a proud perv all in one.

Do I risk?

Hell, yeah I risk!

But this is life affirming risk worth taking. We are gorgeous, glittering, outlaws. Why constantly hide all that beauty? I'm not notifying the media mind you. Reasonable precaution is mandatory and wise. But neither do I always screen, veil, and shroud. I don't guiltily inter the marvelous anymore. But that's me. And I'm feeling good about it these days.

"But all at once the world can overwhelm me, there's almost nothing you could tell me, that could ease my mind"