My Golden Handcuffs are made of flesh. Placed with loving force by my mother, they were meant to shield and protect. Instead their golden hue envelopes my senses with promises carrying the scent of desire. I am compelled to see images of couples engaged in sex acts ceasing only with the tender embrace of my lover.
As long as I can remember my mother has tried to isolate me from females. By the time I was eight I was convinced by her that even touching a girl was filthy. Even then I was torn between these messages and a different truth lying somewhere close but obscured. Girls wore perfume to mask the putrid essence of their being. Were all men then rushing to their doom, willingly deceived? I was warned to avoid women at all costs or my soul would rot, my brain would decay and my body would be infected and wither. I feared and I believed, so the forbidden became a quest attainable only by risking self destruction.
When I finally discovered the delight between the legs of a woman, I was consumed by guilt. Alive, walking, but condemned. A year or two later I saw a photo of a penis inserted into a vagina. The shocking image convinced me that others copulated. A taste of freedom! Some of the guilt left, b taste of freedom! Some of the guilt left, but the struggle was not ended.
In 1978, I witnessed my first pornographic video. I felt like I belonged to a decency club because these people fornicated just like me. A few years later I saw amateur pornographic films and could make love guilt free provided I watched two or three hours a week of average strangers trying on all manner of sex. The process both legitimizes and heightens my carnality. My reward is raw wet sex (love if I am capable) and it keeps me going to the video store.
The handcuffs are very loose now. The bleeding stopped long ago and the scars have diminished to thin white lines. I wear the scars in gratitude to my mother. Her efforts to protect gifted me with entrance into a sexual sphere unknowable to any who have not worn the cuffs of gold. Who gifted her with the cuffs she passed to me? Did she also discover their hidden treasure? My thankfulness grows and expresses itself in every new sexual experience.
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"THE" Collaborative Process |
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| (September 96 - April 97) | ||||||||
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| Page Last Updated July 4, 2000 | ||||||||
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