05-29-2006, 04:12 PM
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#27 (permalink)
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Junkie
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A long time ago--I was significantly under-age at the time-- I hooked up with a guy (in an Air Force uniform) at an interstate rest area. I still remember it was the first rest area in Missouri on southbound I-29. I mostly just wanted to prove that I could get a guy, and it was just a quick blowjob in his car. Afterwards. I thought "Sheesh, what the hell did I do that for?" But a couple times a year, when I drive down that road, I think about it, and wonder if he still thinks about that slutty sixteen year old at the rest area.
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Originally Posted by Sharon
Thanks for all your responses - I'm continually impressed by the clarity of thought that runs through even seemingly polarised opinions here on TFP.
I don't really know what it is I am feeling guilty about. I feel "guilty" if I know that something is wrong or even just inappropriate (like wearing a lowcut bright-red dress to a funeral) and I go ahead and do it anyway. . . .
On the question of whether (and why) I feel it was wrong, I don't really know how to define "wrong". As I get older, (I'm 29) I feel less of a need to live "on the edge," push the envelope, and self-justify. I'm not sure I can define "wrong" either, but (like Justice Potter Stewart) I usually know it when I see it. If it feels wrong TO me, it probably is wrong FOR me. Not necessarily wrong for someone else, but wrong for me. Of course, in practice, I can only claim progress, not perfection.
. . . there was a huge rush in walking on the wild side, the thrill of being a "bad girl" at last, the physical pleasure that I derive from being in discomfort. It's a bit like eating very rich chocolate or something - you know you shouldn't, but it feels good, and for some reason, knowing you will regret it later makes you want it more. Although this is probably the craziest thing I've done thus far in terms of quantity, I have done other things before on (on a smaller numerical scale). And there's a lot more where this fantasy came from, a side of myself I have struggled to tame. I guess I did so much "bad girl" stuff between 15 and 18 that I look back, not with regret, but amazed that I (and a couple of others) lived through it.
I am somewhat terrified of counsellors and therapists and "getting help". ...I would have been terrified that in spending four hours screwing in a public restroom--from your I assume intentionally vague description that it must have been someplace like maybe a bar in an airport or hotel-- that I would have come across a certified "nutcase."
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It also seems somewhat odd to me that in four hours--that's 240 minutes, half a workshift, in other words, a long time--that at least one person, who just wanted to take a pee, wouldn't go to security, the bouncer, the manager, whatever, and say "There's a couple screwing in the men's (or ladies) room." I may be more judgemental than some, but it seems to me that this behavior would look a little "off plumb" even to a man willing to take advantage of it. Especially in a bar where--in four hours--one might go back to the same restroom several times.
Lindy
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