I’m a fan of Google calendar. I’ve never had a head for recalling dates, and time has an odd, elastic quality for me. An event that went down 38 years ago will sometimes resonate with greater strength than yesterday’s happenings, and even a phrase or a snippet of song can pull my entire body back to a memory that surprises and delights with its power.
Knowing this about myself, I’ve often relied on talismans and touchstones to pull myself back to previous times. As a storyteller, and as a forgetter, these mental way markers are critical to my work. This is one reason why my e-mail accounts are virtually overflowing with old messages and why I obsessively check and re-up old social media accounts. Some of these contain unique access codes to my past.
Tomorrow marks five years since I received my first message from some OKCupid dude who went by the bemusing handle “spicyspiritlove.” I still have a cut/paste copy of it. And that’s helpful, since OKC doesn’t keep old messages indefinitely. On that day I was in my online dating endgame. I’d had a combative conversation with my higher power not a week prior, and the outcome was that I planned to shut down my dating accounts, take down my BDSM Sex Ed pages, get a Real Job™ and get my shit together on my own. The exception to this plan was my meeting, in the next 2 weeks, the dominant who would make these choices obsolete and reset the course of my life so that I could focus on the shit I had been fantasizing about for over 2 decades. I knew this was impossible. And I was, frankly and honestly, totally fine with this. There is a freedom to accepting reality on reality’s terms and deciding to sculpt your own niche in the world without shame, sadness or regret.
And then this e-mail was in my account.
wow – your profile is great (theatre, sub, unusual spiritual fodder, curvifat black chick, trembling flower of submission…) I am older than you want (60) but I have a strong German/Austrian accent. I am strongly interested in BDSM with some experience (I am top) and I do not drink any alcohol. I trust in the definition of Robert Mapplethorpe “SM means Sex and magic”.I am an artist, very successful (probably member of the of top 10 or 20 in my genre in the world), crazy, developing new spaces. Especially interested in the dark sides of emotions.I would like to tame you.
GeorgGeorg Friedrich Haas, December 19th, 2013
He didn’t have any photos on his page – claimed this was due to concerns around his notoriety – but offered to send me one as soon as he could, if that was okay.
It was, and boy was I amused when he sent them.
To myself I thought “Any dude who is trying to get into someone’s pants and sends these photos is truly living that WYSIWYG Lyfe.”
We made a date for a couple of days later and, as they say, the rest is history.
Of course, the story unfolded before us immediately…this is one of the very few times in my life that anniversaries are clear and memorable. Perhaps that is so that I can remember that the story is a Story, not a fairytale with fascinating twists. It is just…happening.
You can even hear the whole story here.
Happy anniversary, Mister Professor Sir.
SO much life in just five years…!
Thank you for all of it.