Real passion is like a steel furnace...
I'm a 90's teen. I grew up with Scope, Playboy and Hustler magazines. They were basically the only way to porn. It took rummaging through recycling bins after school to find them and some imagination to actually create the moving pictures behind them.
This was not a bad thing...
Today, in my early forties I rummage through online things and I don't need to use any imagination behind what I find.
This is a bad thing...
ALL WE NEED
"Is love!" Would say the Beatles.
"Love is fragile." I would say back.
I was in Switzerland over the summer holidays this year for one week. It was a privilege to be able to go with the whole family. During my downtime, when the hosts were gone and the crickets serenaded outside, I indulged in my various social media platforms. One might say that I spin them like rings around my Saturn.
I do get a lot of attention in short bursts...mostly men. It's quite justified considering I don't hide my face or my shape. Should I?
At the core I've become a lot more conservative over the years but I cannot conform 100% to its laws.
Even if I wanted to, which I don't, the only reason any man would bend down to wash my feet today would not be for the sake of my redemption...or his.
Another Instagram pseudo pops up suddenly. He'd found me via another platform. I do advertise my writing all over the place folks! That's all. Sorry! No OnlyAnything! What I do and what I like will always be for my own gratuitous pleasure and that of the very lucky individual that's earned it. One could say that we wash each other's feet.
A French guy...very friendly...starts the usual way with asking me how I am. Now, let me precise that I'm not a French speaker and that though I'm pretty advanced in the language, when I'm tired I omit some basic grammatical rules that sometimes land me in hot to boiling water. Such was the case this time.
"I'm in heat!" I typed back. It was that famous week this year of 2023 with an approximate 38 degrees heatwave in Geneva.
What followed was a grin emoji and a photo of his...I shall let your thoughts complete that sentence. LOL!
"Dude!" I typed back. "What the hell?" Accompanied by a friendly emoji. I don't generally overreact...I can feel the vibe of a person even through the virtual web of anonymity.
"But you said you were hot for me!" He typed back.
"No...fuck! Urgh! Excuse my French!" I replied. "I feel hot because it's hot outside!"
I usually never answer a 'how are you' with 'I'm fine'!
A hurried text appeared where he apologized profusely and thanked me for the chat.
"No worries." I typed back. I then thought for a moment. I couldn't resist to let this one go without a little morale...my conservatism showing through my faux pas!
"I suggest you don't hurry so much with the porn next time you meet a girl!" (He was young and hot blooded enough to warrant using the term girl)
"Understood." He typed back and then disappeared.
Years ago, I went to my one and only Marilyn Manson concert in Luxembourg. I was there with my lover, reliving a portion of my teenage years. Despite all my adventures I'd not managed to see him live until that point. Somehow it was less spectacular than I'd imagined...possibly because I'd imagined too much.
Was this a bad thing?
Before going in we wandered a bit around the place...a bit of urban crawling. Such a majestic set of machinery from the Arcelor Mittal steel factory (check out the link if you like heat). I was at the my peak of my femininity and felt it.
Looking up at those steel columns I imagined myself working there...feeling the heat of those flames shaping the raw material beneath my hands.
I was engulfed by so much desire and ambition and took so many risks. I understand the passion when it crosses my path and yet...porn isn't passion...it's a matchstick that smokes if you don't strike it right and we all know the odds of that.
Real passion is like a steel furnace...it doesn't cease until you choose to turn it off.