If given the opportunity, to relive one day over again, to be able to change the events of that day only, would you? If you have lived life to any degree the answer in all honesty, would be "yes " and you're probably thinking mine would be the wedding day, the day I walked down the aisle, the day I said, "I do." And in truth, if I had been given this chance years ago I probably would have taken it, but I have lived life, too much water has flowed under the bridge, the man I have become would not allow me to selfishly pick that day. If ever given that chance, the chance to change the events of another day, I would have to reserve it for one much more important. I made my decision, I have lived it for better or for worse.
If you've been walking this journey with me, you're probably wondering what ever became of the married man. He is still around, and his story is way too long to go into here. I wasn't his first, and by no means, I wasn't his last but that is where his story continues. However, he was my last, the last man this teenager fucked, before becoming a married man, himself. We could have continued, he wanted it to continue, secretly I wanted it to continue, but I had spoken some words, words this now married man had to live by, or at least try to. Years came and went and I lived by those words spoken that day, but under all the debri, the secret I buried on that day, still had breath, chained and shackled, it still lived, even though I denied its existence. One day, probably ten years later, somewhere is my late twenties, during a struggle time in the marriage, I found myself, working, living out of town, separated, alone, on the verge of leaving my family when it happened. He was from out of town, worked for the same firm, staying in the same motel, married, had a family. After drinks, some talk, one thing led to another, those buried feelings came back, if only for a few hours that night. Knowing nothing would come of it, knowing nothing could come of it, I guess I let it happen, it was what it was, two men fulfilling the needs of the other. I held this man in my arms, not without feeling guilt. I felt guilt for allowing it to happen but more so for wanting it, so desperately wanting it to happen. To feel his lips against mine, his hands against my body, mine against his, from wanting to look into his eyes as he gave of himself, I would endure the guilt. I don't condone what I did especially since a few weeks later, all the problems within the marriage had been resolved. I was back home, a married man, dealing with what I had done. It wasn't easy returning, once again, there were those "Damned Expectations."
The water continued to flow under that bridge, I continued to meet the expectations, both of others and of myself. I know now, many of those expectations were of my own making, worrying more about the perceptions of others, how they perceived this boy, this man I had become. Don't get me wrong, I am no martyr, I'm no "Joan of Arc" I am not without sin or discretion. There has been many discretion's of the mind and of the heart, but in the physical sense of the word, only two, the one I spoke of earlier with the co-worker and one six years ago. It is far too long of a story, too complicated of a story for me to share here in the "Final Installment." the post has become too long as it is. It was a discretion, again perhaps it is something I should not be proud of, but I will not be ashamed of it, my heart will not allow it.
Damned to Hell those expectations.
I don't know where my journey will end, I don't know what lies ahead, I can only take it one step at a time. . .
Thank you for taking this journey with me,
Hugs and Kisses,