So, I’ve been asking for some guidance lately because it’s very clear that something in my thinking or in my world view needs to shift if I’m going to create a better life than the one I’m presently blowing up.
Here’s who showed up:
I met this guy through Alice. They’ve been friends for a very long time and she kept telling me
“You’ve got to meet my friend, Henry. I love him. He’s wonderful and he’s basically your male counterpart.”
So, of course, this has got me all curious because
- it’s a relief to know there are other people wandering this earth with the same brain as mine
- someone else thinks that brain-type is cool and not a big horrible mess.
The day finally comes when I get an invite to Henry’s apartment. Alice and I show up and this guy answers the door – eyes totally bloodshot from smoking pot since 9am. He ushers us into his suite, which is completely decorated in SeaHawks paraphernalia and porn.
“It’s not porn,” he says a little defensively. “It’s art.”
Someone please show me the gallery that sells this “art”. Because to me – it’s just a lot of shaved pussy, unnaturally perky tits and women looking over their shoulders, with their panties around their knees and their air-brushed butts thrust out.
I give Alice a long, hard look because really? This is what you think of me?
Turns out, Henry really is a sweetie and to prove it, he generously offers us some very high-quality weed and a beer, which I accept because it’s 12:01. The idea is to get into a happy frame of mind and then head off for lunch.
As we settle in, I start prattling on about my crappy job (that I hadn’t quit yet). I’m a little ashamed to say most of my sentences start with poor me-type phrases. Until I notice Henry shooting Alice a long, hard look like he’s saying, “Really? this is who you think I resemble?
Finally he gets completely fed up, throws my jacket at me and says, “If you’re not going to shut the fuck up, then at least let me take you shopping.”
He leads me to a stripper supply store and makes me pick out a pair of go-go boots and a top that looks super slutty on the rack, but under a blazer is actually pretty passible. I also pick up a necklace that has just the tiniest hint of S&M.
My assignment, he tells me, is to start wearing this stuff to work, mixed in with my usual business wear and then let him know if it makes any difference. And because I was caught off guard and stoned (which sometimes makes me do reckless things), I agreed.
The next day, I wear my new boots to work. As I walk, I notice my posture change. My shuffle becomes more of a strut. Knowing I’m wearing something a little naughty makes me want to thrust my chest out. By the time I walk into my little cubicle, I’m feeling playfully flirty.
I flirt with a prospect and get past his gatekeeper to arrange a face to face meeting (which is pretty hard to do). I talk to a stranger at a line up in Starbucks and end up having a lovely and playful exchange. The folks who usually delight in micromanaging me, seem to sense this might be the day to keep some distance.
In short, I’m blown away. Because this guy I’d written off as being a pervy stoner actually saw and recognized something in me, I hadn’t in myself.
Years before, I’d been told by a therapist and on another occasion, by a psychic at a shopping centre, that I was a closeted dominatrix. I had absolutely no idea what they were talking about. But now, because of Henry and his stripper challenge, I suddenly understood. Some of my power comes from playfully playing with power. I don’t need to shrink and cower in the face of opposition or even when people wield their authority cruelly. I can respond with attitude. The very attitude I feel when wearing a pair of boots and a necklace that was designed to attach to a piercing in my clit. (which I would never get, btw).
I just want to send out a big thank you to the man who was wise enough to direct me to the perfect tools to awaken what I’d suppressed. I’d never considered the playful aspect of my sexuality and how it might just be the power I needed to wiggle out from under the oppressive weights I’d placed on myself.
Now that it’s unleashed, it’s out for good. In this one act, he reminded me how to make discomfort a bit of a turn on. He made my life a lot more fun.
So I called Alice and thanked her for the compliment.
Who are the teachers in your life right now? And are they people you’d expect??
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