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Those Moments in My Life [LEWC]

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posted on Jul, 6 2012 @ 11:45 PM
Well, thank god!, ......(if there is one), that I can’t remember my very first moments since my creation into this World.

What? .....Being shot out of a tube at high velocity , then having to swim for my life inside my Mother’s womb?, ….err, no thanks, that’s a memory I’d like to keep well hidden deep inside my mind.

Those dark days, were, and still are alien to me. Even once my eyes started to develop and unable to open, the thought of me being able to see or remember being ‘squeezed’ out of my Mum’s bleeding vagina and into a pair of outstretched rubber gloves, are memories that I’d rather not recall.

They say ALL our memories of experiences we've had are suppressed , locked deep within inside our minds. Hypnotic regression, ..err no thanks.

Aged 0 to 4

Okay, there is nothing I can remember from this period. Again, I thank god for memory blockage. The thought of me being able to remember sucking on my Mam's tit brings shivers to my spine.(Sorry, Mum love you, but euuggh! nasty)

My first poop would have been a laugh though, being able to see the face of the person that had to change my nappy. The first ones are supposed to smell really bad, I do hope, it was my Dad, probably not though.

I also miss the memories of all that baby talk, boy that would be priceless. Hearing those daft things people said. “oochie coochie cooo!” NO! Stop making those stupid noises you numpty, I’ve just # myself and it feels nasty!

I can’t even remember my first toddle, though I’ve seen many a photograph.

Me with a huge nappy on, arms out-stretched, mouth grinning, much what I look like now after a few drinks, though the nappy is missing. Not that I walk around nude when I’ve had a drink.

Maybe I’m missing a life-lesson here, no more having to deal with rank pub toilets; standing on a wet urinal floor; let’s face it guys, when you’re drunk, aiming for the bowl doesn’t matter as long it’s not on your own shoes you piss on. A Man-Nappy is coming your way, retail price to be considered..

Those toys in the photographs from that young age seems like gifts to another child, I really can’t remember them! They do look really # though compared to what the toys kids get today. Though I do seem to remember the adults having more enjoyment in playing with them than I did. Maybe that was just so last year?

Aged 5 to 10

I was always being told off! I was only exploring the World around me. They said, “Don’t stick your fingers in that plug socket, it will really hurt!”

I tried to cram my little brother’s fingers in it one day and got the hiding of my life. Lesson learned. Only do it when Mum and Dad couldn’t see.

I got told off for telling lies, I felt so bad until I realised that the adults were full of ‘it’…Santa…bah! Tooth fairy!!...I mean for fook’s sake! A tooth fairy! Why couldn’t they have been a little more imaginative?
Have a 'good manners' fairy or something. Not some little flying creature that can, some- how sneak into your bedroom, lift up your pillow, that your head’s on, whilst fast asleep, remove the tooth that you lost and then replace it with a 50p piece. Okay, I was probably 6 when I found out it was a load of old Obama.

Aged 11-15

What the fook was that?
It felt AMAZING, bumping and grinding the pillow became a new pastime. I’m sorry, that is reality, puberty and the life of every man, not the pillow bit but, the WTF was that???? I want to feel like that for-ever! ( okay I’m showing my age here, there was no internet then)

“OMG, I’ve found a pube!

YEAHHH!!!! I’m a MAN! ....................Oh my god,’s very curly.

Okay, I didn’t know what they looked like up close but I knew about 'them', I just didn’t expect them to look like that!.

It was a very different colour to the hair on my head. No!.... not ginger! (there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that if you’re a ginger pubed person)

It was just a 'lighter shade' of dark brown than that of the hair on my head…(with a hint of orange in certain light). It felt freaky but cool at the same time. (no not the hint of orange)

I realised that it wasn't that bad (okay the ginger streak), but it was just the rate of growth that was scary.

OMG, Fuming... SPOTS. LOADS of them!. My voice finally cracked after what seemed like an eternity.

Those humping feelings felt wrong. It clicked one night, I’d daren’t mention the age. I didn’t know what made my body feel so good. It just did. Then I realised it was imagination, from being with people in certain situations, mainly people from t.v programs. The problem was, which I couldn’t understand, was the fact it was based on men. I could see the men’s faces but not the women’s. I realised that it was very wrong.

I understood at that point that I was supposed to be attracted to women. It was like I’d been hit by a truck, it hurt, I was confused and very scared. Like I say, I was very young. Where was the support?

It was down to the environment I grew up in, what I saw on the television, what I heard from my Parents, peers in school meant ‘normaility’ to me. I was confused. I understood that I needed to think about, women, I really did and I tried so hard, beyond what any straight guy possibly can imagine. I prayed, looked at numerous images of women in clothes catalogues in the underwear section (that's all we had). That feeling just wasn’t there. It always came back to the guy. I felt dirty and wrong.

I‘d seen gay men on the t.v., They were the ‘strange’ ones who were ‘very’ different to the normal men who I was exposed to in my environment. They were all effeminate, not that I knew what that word meant at the time. The scorn and indifference, even though light-hearted, kept me away from being that kind, open to distaste and ridicule.

The years went by slowly, keeping that secret well hidden, I even denied to myself. I couldn’t wait until I was 16. Then I was an adult! Old enough to buy a packet of cigarettes! Even though I used to chastise my Dad for smoking, I knew, once I hit that age I was somehow different, an adult.


I hit sixteen, I was an adult! I felt no different. It was just another day.
Even though I was an ‘adult ‘ I still felt like a child, yearning for understanding, protection and love. A love that was already there, but a love that I felt was threatening to be ripped away from me due to my secret.

I did the usual things that were expected of me in the environment I grew up in. We drank alcohol from the local off licences, in later years getting into the local pubs, chatting up girls and drinking as much as we possibly could before passing out. A pint of lager in each bar was the norm; we at 17 would often at a weekend go-to six or seven. A good night was seen as either ‘pulling’ a ‘bird’; ie: getting a shag or barfing your guts up. I felt dead.

Very dark years, I don’t want to visit again.


I met a guy in a gay night club, fell completely in love, yeah 'guy on guy' # will sound a bit weird but it was the most natural thing in the World to me. I’m still with him now. I’m a few years off 40.
I hope to marry him one day; not because I want to belittle or dismantle the meaning of all the marriage’s I’ve seen come and go in my life; but out of love, commitment, openness and honesty, til death us do part and all that. A lesson I've learned through-out my life is the concept of marraige. I am married, I just want the paperwork.

Nearing 40

I’ve learned that more and more people can not only accept freedom for themselves but now wish it on others who are very different from themselves.

We aren’t so bad.

edit on 7-7-2012 by Tykonos because: (no reason given)

posted on Jul, 7 2012 @ 09:36 AM
reply to post by Tykonos

Thanks for sharing. I like your style, potty mouthed and humorous, canting memories in a sequential fashion. SnF.

Another excellent entry. Heartfelt and honest. Kudos!

posted on Jul, 7 2012 @ 09:41 AM
That was amazing!! Thank you for sharing. Very humorous too. SnF

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