Ancient History

I have been kinky my entire life.  There was no trauma that made me this way, it is just the way I developed. I grew up in a Southern Baptist home and was raised mainly by women. I was always surrounded by strong women. My mother raised me and my sister pretty much by herself, although my dad was physically there, he rarely interacted with us. My grandmothers took us during the summers, and the women of my home church were the backbone of the community.

My proclivities were apparent to no one. The few male friends I played with were more interested in football and wrestling, and since my favorite game involved tying up imaginary girls, I usually played alone. My imagination was my world, and I was the prince of that world. At that age, I had no idea what sex was, but I remember that I had a desire to lock girls in cages at an early age.

I never got along well with other boys. I was always too emotional for them to be “one of the guys”, and my interests in math and science didn’t really match with small-town Mississippi views of what it meant to be successful. The boys on the school bus loved making me cry calling me “cry-baby.”  Think of “Stranger Things” but with red-necks and no super-natural friend. I look back occasionally and see those bullies with broken families, sexless marriages, unhappy spouses, and multiple divorces, and I think, “If you just could have been a little more in touch with your emotions, you would be able to relate to your wife better and you would both be happier.”

I put away my kinky desires. I was a dork, a nerd, and a geek all rolled into one. I loved science, band, and girls.  I was one of the only kids that kept the same girlfriend year after year because I knew how to talk to her and communicate with her. Again, I didn’t know what sex was all about. I was a good Southern Baptist boy from the deep south.  Sex was something reserved for marriage. The relationships I had with girls were pure and pretty sexless until I moved away from home.