What I am not and recent stuff.

I am sitting in a coffee shop with the intent of finishing up a paper that’s due tomorrow. Instead, I’m distracted.

Tucked into a booth across from me are two men, arguably my age, who are dressed very neatly in dress shirts and ties and are impeccably groomed. They are leaned over paperwork and a laptop screen and are incredibly focused on the task at hand.

They are my reminded of what my life could have been.

I used to work in corporate, literally up until the day my life got taken over by the Powers That Be. I was pretty good at it, too. I had maintained the same job at a Fortune 500 newspaper-owned personal ad company for three years. I had clients spread all over the United States and I made pretty good money, until I touched the string, which I’ve written about before, and then I wasn’t making any money at all.

I made the choice, consciously or unconsciously, that I wanted something different. I knew, at the time, that my life was going nowhere and that I had no direction but I didn’t know how to change that. Perhaps the biggest gift I’ve been given is that my choice changed that.

I could have had something different. I could have not touched the string and not accelerated my fate. I might have been able to cut it at the straight life. I might have been able to keep that job, keep the nice apartment just outside of Boston, keep my leather family, keep my sanity and piece of mind in a more complete structure. I could maybe have gotten married and had a kid or two. I might have been able to be happy that way, but I don’t think so.

I am the polar opposite of the businessmen now packing up their briefcases and presumably heading back to their offices. I work nights at a job that doesn’t care how I look or what I wear or much of anything beyond that I show up. I work with the ‘ugly’ populations—the people that polite society wishes didn’t exist. Today, I left my job in slightly rumpled jeans and headed to school which, at thirty-one, is a brand new adventure after eight years of not being in school. I live with roommates and don’t own my own home and, at this point, that’s pretty much a pipe dream unless I win the lottery. I won’t marry and won’t have children. I’m a little weird. I am not living the American dream.

And yet, I am exactly where I am supposed to be at this time, or I choose to believe that, anyways. I am doing what is required of me in fits and starts and in ways that decidedly say ‘Alex’ all over them. I can’t do it any other way, except maybe Mr. Mister’s way and He’s gracious enough to allow me the space and ability to get it done, period, not get it done a prescribed way.

How I live is a slightly beat-up, sometimes broken love letter to Mr. Mister. I live how He wants me to live and have largely stopped fighting that, which has probably been one of my bigger breakthroughs in the past six months. He hasn’t asked for anything that I feel is too jacked-up and, in the long run, it wouldn’t matter if He had…I’d still want to do it. Is that the part that makes me really different from the businessmen? That I’ve said yes in a way that a lot of people in the current culture would say no to, if they were given the choice?

I don’t know. What I do know is that today, when I finally get the chance to go to bed [this cannot come soon enough], I will shut my eyes and have some measure of peace with the state that my life is in. It won’t be total peace, because I am never satisfied with what I have, but it will be peace greater than I have had in the past.

––

Things are going. School is trying to eat me alive and I am fighting back with pretty much all the effort I can muster. I have papers and projects enough that I could be busy every day until the end of the semester, and likely will be. My brain is struggling to play catch-up with the papers. It’s one thing to write a blog and another thing entirely to try and write scholarly stuff. It makes me feel old. Mr. Mister seems to be extremely understanding, however, and is allowing me the time and space to get what I need to get done. He hasn’t been cranky that I haven’t managed to do something for Him every single day, but seems okay with it being more often than not. I’m still striving for every day, though.

I had a wonderful night with Boyfriend this past weekend where we went off and did kinky things at a party with other kinky people. Mr. Mister wanted me to be shown a good time, apparently, and, from my perspective, that definitely happened. I’m not quite sure why He was so invested in the idea of me having fun with Boyfriend and other people, as I don’t think I’ve done anything particularly worthy of a reward—I’ve just been doing what I’m supposed to be doing, but He was. I’m grateful that He allows me the relationship with Boyfriend, as He certainly is not bound to. I’m the luckiest boy ever.

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~ by Alex on October 25, 2012.

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