A little fire burns in my chest. Earlier, I yearned to express it, was ashamed of it. Today, I am afraid I may not be able to contain it. I put on my boxer shorts, a fresh t-shirt and slightly dirty shorts I have not washed for weeks.
I am about 30 pounds overweight and there is an ugly bulge of fat protruding on each side of my breast, making my body look like an 8. I feel ashamed. The shame feels good. Useful.
I shrug. It is a remnant from a past life.
I exit the house and start walking in a fast pace. People go out of my way. Women and girls force themselves to hide their involuntary cute smiles. I involuntatily grin and start to whistle. My eyes are wide open and aware, my eyebrows wrinkled in rageful curiosity. I am tall. I am fast. I am dangerous. I am god and devil in one person. There is no difference.
I have an aggressive haircut. To impress and seduce? No. As a heartfelt expression of my self.
Some people look at me. Their look says: Who do you think you are?
I look right back, communicating: I am me.
Some grin back. Some lower their eyes. I feel proud, but not surprised. This is how it should be. This is how every man should feel. This is natural.
I walk into the dentist’s office. Do I have an appointment? No, I just wanted to see if I can get shit done.
The hot nurse asks me what I want. I tell her that I have not brushed my teeth for a long time and want to let them check it out.
She looks into my face, searching for traces of embarassment. They are there, but the sexual energy that I radiate is infinitely stronger. I stare into her eyes very intensely and without a smile and I can see how she is becoming sexual, too, as she reciprocates. I take a look at her breasts. Then I talk to her again. About the appointment.
I take a seat and fill out the form. I feel frightened. Remnants of my narcissistic me. Out of a habit, I start to think about how to end this perfectly, only to realize that there no longer is any need to. There is no more dark pit of shame and worthlessness to fall into. It is a useless habit for the person I am now. I blindly trust my emotions to guide me and make the right decisions in split-seconds.
I notice that I do not feel shame for my desire. Only fear of rejection. I try to fight it, only to realize there is no longer any need to. It is a very enjoyable feeling.
The female doctor comes into the waiting room. She is slightly less attractive. She sees me and I stare into her eyes as well. I do not do it to seduce or with any intent. It is simply who I am. It would take an infinite amount of willpower to suppress it.
She eagerly extends her hand and introduces herself to me. I feel love for her, just like for the nurse. I like how they freely and confidently react to me and express themselves. I do not want to control them. I take them just as they are, in all completeness. If they rejected me sexually, my love would remain; I would just be sad. I am simply grateful for knowing them. I do not have to force these emotions, they are just there. The most natural things on earth.
I wait a bit longer and am invited to the room.
A somewhat old nurse talks to me. I love her, too, and hold eye contact while warmly smiling and communicating that. I do not pretend to care about everything she says. I just freely interact, let the words flow. I tell her that I consider the government insurance mafia, without caring whether she agrees.
She is enthusiastic and exclaims that she likes me and that my views are admirable. I feel patronized and consider telling her that I do not care. But I realize that this defense mechanism is another now useless habit. Instead, I say nothing and innocently enjoy the pride it fills me with.
The doctor comes in and asks why I did not brush my teeth. I indifferently say that I was silly, but that it does not matter. Let us just fix it.
I ask her for a tooth paste without fluorides. She admonishes me and asks me why. I point at my forehead and tell her that I care about my third eye. She looks at me with surprise and obviously thinks I am being silly. I do not care. I enjoy the mild embarassment and I love her for her innocent expression of slight contempt. She does not need to agree.
She tries to convince me, tells me that some magazines gave poor ratings to toothpaste without fluorides. I laugh and say they are sheep who like fluorides because they are in and modern. Back in the days, they had no fluoride, either.
She says that it was already there when she was young. I tell her that that can not be long ago. She asks me to estimate her age. I say 120 years. She seems flattered.
I do not consciously try to be funny or anything. Or to achieve anything, like sex. It just comes out of my mouth. It feels like the right thing to say. I flirt despite not being interested; because it would take endless willpower to not flirt.
Anyway, she does not have to agree. It is irrelevant.
She looks at my teeth, makes x-rays.
I have some mild caries and slightly inflamed dental flesh. She shows me those red fringes. I tell her they look cool. She admonishes me and looks motherly at me for my carelessness. I am indifferent to it. It does not even enter my mind to protest, because it does not enter my mind that it should be any of her business to speak to my conscience. I just ask: Okay, what do we do?
After my appointment, I walk out.
Our of habit, I start thinking about how to keep up that good presentation on my next appointment. I realize that it no longer matters. I waste a few beautiful thoughts about violently fucking the hot nurse, then I notice how the memory of her automatically fades into the background and she stops to matter.
I want to eat flesh now. I go to the steak house, still overflowing with that sexual energy.
I sit down and the fat waitress asks me what I wish.
Same as usual, but this time more raw than medium. I stare at her and tell her that I want to bury my teeth in something bloody.
It is nothing but the truth, in no way meant to impress her.
I eat my steak and bury my teeth in the bloody flesh.
I ask her to pay and we talk a bit about hunting. I tell her that I would like to kill an animal. It is true.
She can hardly walk away from me and I have to end the conversation.
Her body is disgusting and her confidence is quite compromised. She hardly dares to express any femininity.
And yet I feel compassion. The thought to shame her never even enters my mind. But neither does the thought to force her to change. It is her life, her choice. For whatever reason, she seems to need this.
Should I shame her? But what for? What is the purpose? It will hurt her and it will hurt me. There is no benefit to it. Unlike in the past, there is no more secret pain I need to share.
I feel a bit guilty. I would never want her and yet I can not contain the energy that attracts her, because that would feel like amputating my leg. I can not be non-sexual to her, because she is a woman. And I can not be unkind to her, because she is human. Simple as that. Simple as chemistry or a physical law.
I exit the restaurant, a bit sad. I do not mind the sadness, it is just a normal and valid part of life.
In this whole day, I did not once make the conscious decision to influence anybody in any way. I just let my emotions ride me. I embraced everybody just as they were. I harmonized with everybody, without being dependent on that; moments of dissonance I shrugged off.
I did not take any drugs in the past days. Aside from meat and a little bit of sugar.
I am fat, I wear slighly dirty shorts and sandals in mid-October. I am aware of it, feel slightly ashamed and do not mind it. I feel no need to obsess over it, as I now trust my gut and my emotions to make all the right choices for me. In a way, my intellect and consciousness is only anymore a passenger enjoying the ride.
This shit is completely natural.
I have almost forgotten the nurse. Will she still like me tomorrow? Will I have the same energy? Will I fuck her? Will I get rejected? I will see.
I remember the doctor. She had a sweet personality, I really love her. The hot nurse was actually a bit on the colder side. I need something healthy. Should I start it with the doctor? But I do not find her attractive. I could enjoy her love and heal, but I can not imagine violently fucking her; she is too old and a bit too fat.
Should I go for it anyway?
And then I realize that this too is a defense mechanism of the past. Choosing the safe route. Choosing a woman whom I do not desire so that I may not get rejected sexually. Then cover that cowardice up with the arrogant pretense of doing it for her, to feel good about myself.
It is no longer necessary. No longer necessary for me to make any compromise, as that was the domain of a terribly damaged coward. Now I can stand on my own feet, choose exactly what I want. And even live with the guilt of having to reject most of what life offers me. I can reject a woman for not being sexual enough and I can reject her for not being emotionally available as well. I will only choose that which I really need and want.
No matter what, I look forward to it. I am curious what the universe will teach me tomorrow.
Why would any man not want to live like this? Why should any human not want to express his or her self fully, freely and shamelessly?
This is not about being a man. Or any standardized notion of a natural. This is about being you. Expressing your nature. Should you aim to act just like I did today? Of course not. You should aim to act however the fuck you want to act at any moment, based on who you are. To have a peaceful mind, undistracted by idiotic attempts to manipulate others or portray a certain image. Sometimes that will mean being sexual. Other times, it will mean to show weakness and be sad. Or feel shame. Or having a bad day where nothing works out. In that sense, this article may even be dangerous, seem like the promise of a life full of great days. But that is not the point.
In a sense, it is about not being afraid to feel. Not being afraid to feel any emotion. Because if you are not afraid to feel any emotion, there is no need to have any expectations. And without expectations, life is an endless perfect flow.
A little fire burns in my chest. I cherish and heed it. I protect it to keep it alive, for it is fragile. As that is the natural thing for me to do.