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I was doing the circuits at my second or third Big Base city. I would go to about ten different regular bars. Depending on the night, my mood, whatever else. Punk, Rock, Navy/Marine/.mil were my usual haunts. I did drink heavy, from time to time, but not regularly... but either lived close or had a ride lined up or had decided to get lucky that night. Pretty much the way it was back in the day, when I was in port, which was most of my Navy life, give or take. Just the one, and nearly a second sub duty, and... maybe little stints away for this and that, but mostly at some base with a lot of operational freedom.
In the bar I visited that night was a guy trying to egg some dame into a ledge bet. In the bet, she had to stay on the ledge, and survive, for a specific amount of time, to win a portion of the proceeds from the door. A fall was certain death, as was the lion if he got to her. There were ways to avoid, and dodge, but it would take a supremely athletic, lithe, and very sharp person to utilize those things. I came in, saw what was going on, and sided immediately with her not doing it. Death, I told her. Certain death. Knew the girl a bit, she didn't have it in her, trust me. Still, the guy kept egging.
I didn't want her to do it. Like I said, I liked her. Like I said, I knew just how acrobatic and athletic she was. And I knew she wouldn't make it. I had seen many try. And I saw what was left of most of them. Sure, some douche, I wouldn't care. She wasn't flushworthy. Not quite my style, but a good "kiddo".
Eventually, after several times of this, and the gal really considering it, I told the guy egging her on what to wear the next time he was in, on a bet. I had a way with people anyway. He did that, and wore what I told him to wear... a slightly feminine outfit, though not quite clearly gay or other weird. And, in front of the dame, and others who had been party to the double sided event of helping her decide, I told him that if she did it, and died, I would rip his junk off, tossing the jewels, but would get him to the hospital in time that they could fix him up as a her.
At first he thought I was joking. He serioused up a bit when, from the look on the faces of those around, he realized I wasn't joking. First he became a bit angry, but a bit frightened too. Eventually fright became prime, with anger and a sense of insult following. Then, and he was a bit effeminate (not gay, or cross, I don't think, though the bet had him dressing that way a bit), because of the way I had him dress for the night on a dare and some of the nature of the threat, he tried to suggest I would say, or do, such a thing only because I wanted him, at least as a woman. We all laughed, even he, until he realized we were laughing at him. I always had a way with the crowd.
I told it to him straight. I had my choice of women. In this bar and the others I visited. I was straight as an arrow, never touched a cross, a gay, or a trans before or after (no man interested me) . If they annoyed too much, I just teased them to tears. With real women, I rarely "dated" (took home) the same one twice. Yeah, a rat bastard. Didn't tell him why, mind you. Lost a right one and child and just didn't care anymore, certainly wasn't going to get stung like that again. So I just... dabbled. But I dabbled at my leisure, and only with real women. The world was my flock of hens. And, yeah, I really did have it that down.
As far as women were concerned, if I was gay, I was as gay as a hundred dollar bill. So long as they could bank it, they would take me on any given day, twice on Sundays. I remind, I was not a Christian at that time. Zen probably at the "time" of the dream. Not even a good Zen, to be honest. Some things transfer from and to all other religions. *grins* Anyway... I would walk into bars. And while only some of the girls knew my name, they knew me. "Him", might be heard, and exactly as you'd expect from a hateful bitch. And yet, if I siddled up to that table of women sometime I would be welcomed as if a star. Sometimes I'd see a drink I liked, a gal I was about to make a play on, or one that I was curious about... I would just take it. Women didn't care, some nerd would just send them another. Might get peeved at me if the guy who sent it was watching me gulp down some of their spending money, wondering how I dared, but doing no more about it than the women, if enjoying it far less. Yeah, I really was a guy you wouldn't have liked. I think I've mentioned that. Oh, and I never bought a woman a drink. I might share some of mine, if I really liked her... for that while. Just a sip, mind you.
Even so, it wasn't every night I took a woman home, or went home with a woman. Sometimes I'd tease them, then drop them. Sometimes I'd even make out with one of them, then go home quite on my own, even sneaking out. I had a nickname among the women who knew me a bit more, and learned to tolerate my ways, Octopus. As if I had eight arms, it was said, when I was getting fresh. If she wasn't right, or I didn't feel like it, or for whatever reason, it just wouldn't happen. I had a friend who would tag along with me, as I could hook him up with something I got hot and dumped, or just met along the way. He thought he'd become a protegee but didn't really have the stomach for it. I considered him a remora fish, when everything settled. He asked how I dared, truly offended by my behavior. I told him the same thing I told my last woman, though her about the way I played a game... because I can. He ended up marrying one of my rejects. She promptly put an end to her husband going out with "him". *cough* *chuckles* Just as soon as the last ring went on, she snipped his manhood and kept it in her purse, him not far away either. Served him right.
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Decided to get up and write that out. The lion and ledge part was pure fantasy. The rest of it is accurate and precise enough for the ledgers. I've never kidded about my past. Once a lion, of the manly sort. Like that, hate it, didn't matter to me then, or now, if in different ways. The past is what it was. Odd to end up celibate, and for so long. Right with the world as it should be, and yet still hoping to fulfill my place in life correctly. Willing to go without, however, if need be. A sort of penance. Some woman, if she decides to fulfill her role with me will certainly have her hands full. Hands? Metaphor, mind you. Never the mind.
Back to bed. Just... wanted to get this dream down. I do remember those times. I sometimes parse here, or suggest that it wasn't what it was, or belittle, or... To see it so fresh in the mind, to relive it. I thought to share more of the truth of those times. Just go click on the "Women" label, then hit up the May 27 and June 8 posts. Just so you know. Good night, again.
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Took this offline while I was cooling off to go back to bed. as I headed to bed. I hadn't waken enough to know if I should publish. It... goes to character, in a negative way. But it was the past. The haters will hate, the doubters will doubt, the believers will just have to understand. One who, right away or later, chooses to attempt the path of the saint doesn't always, perhaps ever, start out on the right foot. The balance of good to evil seems, in my estimation, to be equal. You can only ever potentially be as good as you have ever been dark. I think of it as a reckoning of the books of the soul, a law of some sort, in the spiritual realms. And why Christ had to be sacrificed. So... after a review and minor edit, I'll... begrudgingly put it back up.
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