Monsters

Anyone with a worldview, philosophy or framework where it is difficult to fully be who they are knows the necessity and power of self permission and self acceptance. If we view ourselves as monstrous in our own minds, we’ll need a gatekeeper to give permission for the unaccepted interior to frolic and keep the frolic appropriately contained; any conscientious and self-aware monster knows it needs rules.

Upon discovering my uxorious erotic truth I wondered if I suffered from some psychological inversion where my mother was (too) demanding and (too) overbearing and so after becoming monstrous in trying pleasing her, I later learned in romance to be monstrously pleased when pleasing ‘her’ monster. I might decide my partner must be a monstrous enough match for me to be pleased; I might try enticing her to more monstrosity; I might encourage her to unchain and release her interior kraken, encourage her to stop differentiating loving me and between loving what I do for her, encourage and entice with the lure of power of being a gatekeeper, my gatekeeper. I’ll lure her into celebrating our interior monsters together, into a monster frolicking relationship in which I can be whole with my monstrous self, accepted despite being a monster, have self-worth from the praise of pleasing her, and have the intimacy and surety of her gatekeeping permission.

No, I don’t really believe I do this, but I fear some men might and that in my desire to participate in my wife’s pursuit of happiness and pleasure, I could. I often hear men discuss ‘subspace’, this bliss of being female led, as their drug, and well let’s face it, every addict needs a dealer helping them to the next level. Yet a parent, a gatekeeper, a dealer, a god, enjoys a love hate relationship with even its most loyal and childlike of junkie worshiping subjects, and such rule is only had by the god-maker’s permission. For when parents are only godlike to their children, divinities only monster-like to humans, when symbol confusion leads one to love power exchange instead of loving one’s partner, the resulting relationship becomes philosophically untenable if not functionally untenable as well.

While I am comforted by my constant effort to make love symbols clear and transparent from one interior all the way through to the other interior, and avoid symbols that stop at mere power exchange, I also tread with fear and trembling as I differentiate between erotic truth’s self discovery and addiction’s meaningless abyss.