The Grooms story

Now that I’m at a keyboard I can really try to get this down.

15 years ago the groom was in active duty in the marines. I believe he was somewhere in the pacific, think island, little communication, big time difference. He had just gotten done with a bunk inspection (by this time he was an officer). He heard some cryptic thing about a plane hitting a building and thought it was another crop duster, as that had happened the week before in some rural part of the country.

He reported to his superiors to hear……your city has gone mad and we are going to war. He still couldn’t grasp the severity of those words. They rounded up all of the officers and everyone else and made them get into lines. Four to be exact. A Catholic line, a Jewish line, a protestant line and an “other” line. They were told they needed to sign there wills. Could you imagine how fucking scary that is? To be essentially in paradise and not really have the facts yet, but being told, well, we could ship out today….but it gets worse. After they sign them, the Holy representative of there choosing gave them their (in the catholic way) their last rights. Then they waited, and waited….He said it was the longest day of their lives. The officers were able to make limited contact with family. He was one of the very few that called NYC home, so they gave him first consideration, but to them, we were at war. He said in that very moment he was ready, he shed no tears signing his will or getting his last rights, he was full of nothing but anger and a need to make sure we as a city were safe. All bases were on high alert and had the order come they would have moved inside the hour.

He still says he can not imagine what is was like to be here that day, but as we suffered, they were ready. He said it took him 10 years to shed a tear for that day, to replace the anger of being so far away with….not sadness, but reflection.

Last night was my quarterly work torment and I was up until 3am. On those days I look for something to fill the hours between work and second work. Sadly yoga was only one hour and with the amount of soreness I had from the day before, I was ok with that. I met up with BG. Her poly/domish/rigger is away on a work trip and she had a few days of normal life and really wanted to catch up. She’s a really smart and interesting person if you can get past her insanely thick accent. I picked a place with decent lighting so I could read her lips. We spoke of how very different we both are from a year ago and even more from almost 2 years ago when we first met.

We talked of adventures, both the good and the shitty people in the community. The toxic people and the landmines that we navigate in certain relationships and friendships. We also spoke of our……viability. We are absolutely on the older side of the fence when it comes to submissive women. We joked how we wished we had the stomach’s to be Dommes, age doesn’t seem to be as much of a factor and the pool of men is extremely big. She said for her it’s worse because as a rope bunny there are only about 20 good riggers in the tri-state area and all of them have a steady stream of little young things throwing themselves at them. We then went full circle back to the first night we had coffee and stayed chatting for 6 hours. She’s getting to a point I had been at before, where she is wondering if she has gotten too used to her life and way too selfish to have kids. Thinking maybe that’s part of the reason she has gotten herself into this poly hell hole. So as we sit there in some godforsaken hipster bar, her frozen eggs waiting, the last of mine dying, we both sighed, no words, just a silent understanding of “this was not how I thought things would go”.

A big hug to end the night and we both went home to work some more. Promises to hang out and try to chat at this weekends party, both knowing more than a hi and a few kind words are all we will exchange. Funny I have a group that I’m recognizing now. They are the really underappreciated friends, the low maintenance ones, the ones you don’t see much, but when you do the camaraderie and conversation flows and it’s not “hard”. Sad part is I think the lack of contact is one of the things that keep the friendships like that. So I’m going to try, lol, maybe once a quarter, try to get together with them. So far there’s three, but who knows, maybe there’s more I just haven’t realized yet.



One thought on “The Grooms story”

  1. I remember that day, as we all do, plainly. Our youngest was born on Sept. 11. I can not fathom the emotions your city felt that day, the choas, confusion. I DO know one thing: when people don’t respect our military, past or present, in my eyes, they are no better than the ones we are at war with.

    Liked by 1 person

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