I never felt daring before.I never felt daring before. It was almost as if we were doing something outrageous right there among the other patrons. By the time we had gotten home that night, I had decided. J had said that when he shaved my forehead it was the watershed of this thing we were doing, but for me, that evening at dinner was the moment when I made my first conscious decision to plunge in headfirst and voluntarily begin the descent into this other side of my sexuality. Fuck 'em I thought. And fuck Indiana, too. It wasn't even really a decision, rather a voluntary relaxation of resistance, a letting go. What the hell, why not? Where have I heard that before? Not that I haven't resisted--even rebelled--since, but after that evening I fought against him as a matter of form, almost as a ritual. My resistance lacks sincerity, and I rebel only by deliberately feeding my own fears and letting them show, giving J my fear and embarrassment as gifts rather than letting them rule me. |