I still recall that question, do you know ___________? It seemed quite odd to me at the time. Why would I? I was just regular degular me, hanging out in Philly with no reputation or credentials. Turns out, that was not accurate. One of the things I’ve learned, and have to be reminded of, is that the streets are always watching, and talking. While you know my ego is kinda big constant reader, I never quite get used to the icons of my lifestyle knowing my name.

I was today years old Constant Reader when I found out that this particular one is in the DMV. Seeing it now, because I have the kink site open in another tab, the question makes more sense, or at least why it was asked makes more sense. I am still a little question mark on why it was asked but that seems like not the point right now.

I was asked the question, gave my response, and then went back to what I was doing in the moment. I took a lot of lessons from my time there, this did not seem like it would be one of them but five years later and boom. I was told my voice mattered. I was told who I am was valuable and instrumental to our future. I felt hella small in that moment being told what I big deal I was. I want to pick up the phone and call someone but they are still riding high and I hate to intrude. I always hate to intrude, but for context I think I must. What’s been given to me, entrusted to me, requires the best of me and she knows how to bring that forward.

A random thought popped into my head as I typed those words above, that it might be time to let go of an image and embrace a reality. What is best for me, in this lifestyle route, does not possess a penis. My hetero conditioning just screamed as I typed that, but if I look at the data….bitch scream some more.

The ones who have carried me, fueled me, understood me the best [and the worst], who have acknowledged not just my potential, but also my practical have all been women. The ones who have tried to diminish me, all men. Even if not especially the last one.

I am taken back to the night for BK and the aftermath of it. How I worked overtime to mend the crack I was told I created, yet they never shared, the crack was because their own personal foundation was San Andreas on steroids. I am reminded that what I did from my heart, and was called to do, was only important to them if they were seen as the person who put the battery in my back. I am my own ARC reactor, sometimes I am the version put together with scraps in the cave, other times I am the beaming sustainability version from Avengers 1, sometimes I am the MACH __ capable of generating a nano suit in 3 seconds, but it is always ME.

Me might just need to negotiate visiting penis because thus far my attempts to have this with the men has crashed and I no longer am certain if I have the curiosity to see if it can be done. There are more days behind me than ahead of me, and I need to make them count. I can’t waste all of my energy on the knuckle draggers when those who can fly, like me, are present.