Little Susitna & Montana Peak, Hatcher Pass, late July
Now the rest of my compatriots seemed totally uninterested in the wonders on display, there in that dim basement. But I knew, I KNEW! that I had just been given a glimpse of Paradise.
Then my friend broke the spell and said, "C'mon, get down off there, those are just some stupid ol' calendars my dad likes to hang down here. Mom doesn't like em. So dad says 'Well then, just don't go down into the basement.' an them he smacks her on the butt, an they start acting all mushy an disgusting an stuff. It's embarrassing."
"Yeah."
And at that moment, I knew that the Goddess had not revealed herself to them, as she had to me. I knew that I was now an initiate, a keeper of secret information, of revealed truth, and they were not. (And yes, there was a certain smug self satisfaction in that knowledge.)
In fact, my new knowledge was so secret, that I had no idea what it meant, let alone what I was supposed to do about it. But anything that made me feel that good couldn't possibly be bad.
And once I understood that - it would prove another nail in the coffin of Christianity.
(That understanding took some time to achieve, since in those days two thousand years of Christian shame and guilt about sex permeated the very air we breathed. It was like some sort of toxic smog, a cancerous mental second hand smoke, from which there was no escape. And even though nothing was ever said, since this smog was everywhere, we silently absorbed its poison through our pores, leading to a great deal of unnecessary confusion and unhappiness.)
Now, just so we're clear about my first view of The Goddess, this was in the early days, before Penthouse had arrived and begun to open things up, as it were. Long before any of todays raunchier publications hit the newstands. She was just the Playboy Playmate for one of the twelve months, maybe Miss July, I don't remember. Artfully posed and beautifully lit, with just a hint of pubic hair showing. (This was before shaving, let alone brazilian waxing and showing pink.)
The pretty girl next door, but with no clothes on! Bare skin! Boobs!
Ahhh... Boobs...
By todays standards it was a photo as innocent as one of a kitten chasing a butterfly. Which was probably fortunate, as exposure to The Goddess, in all her glory, all at once, might have been too much. It might have unmanned me, as it evidently did Ruskin.
And I had only just that moment been manned.
Then again, perhaps not.
So there it is. The Moment that I knew.
My Moment of revelation.
A Playboy Calendar hanging in a friends basement.
And you want to know something else?
Thinking about it...
I did not choose my sexuality. Choosing was never an option. I was told my sexuality, in a deeply visceral, crystal clear, and absolutely undeniable way.
So maybe that's why we don't hear testimony from Hetero Evangelicals. (Except those poor lost souls who have falsely convinced themselves that they have been cured of their sinful same sex desires.)
Sadly, though I did not know it at the time, there were to be unforeseen problems which would greatly complicate and delay my introduction to the mysteries. But that's another story, possibly for another day. (Mental illness? Believe me, it's a bitch)
Still, if I believed in Heaven, I would like my Heaven to be filled with beautiful women, of all different sizes, and shapes, and colors. (But more Redheads than anything else.) A Heaven filled with women whose beautiful complex compound curvilinear geometry I could contemplate and worship for all eternity. Some days, (It's my Heaven, I want days and nights), some days, the only thing I might want to do is watch them walk. (Yes, I can hear it now "Shallow, Sexist Pig, Objectifying Slime [Which is, in fact, just another way of saying "Sexual feelings are evil! And something to be ashamed of!" To which I reply "Fuck off! Jesus... you people need to get a life!"]
It's MY Heaven. You want a Heaven w/o sex, fine. I don't.
But, as it is Heaven, we will all, of course, be at that wonderful age before gravity has begun to exact its toll, and everything is full, and firm. And the nipples point up!
And we'll have lots and lots of sex. Forever and ever. Amen.
Of course the Girls (and yes, I used the word "Girls" here because I know it will piss some of you off.) The Girls can play with each other. There is certainly no reason for them to be bored while I am otherwise occupied. That's the entire reason behind TOYS! The idea is an eternity of foreplay, orgasms, and after-play! Pleasure for everybody! Forever!
And, even though this is MY Heaven, and I probably could. I don't want to be everywhere. I've no desire to do the Krishna thing. I think it's the blue skin. (I can hear it now... "Crypto Racist!" and again - "For Christ sake, get a fucking life! What the hell is wrong with you people?")
But I would gladly trade a Heaven full of Beautiful Women, for a world where no one has to live a lie because of fear.
A world where the simple fact of being Gay would not be a death sentence. As it currently is in certain ignorant, backward, and barbaric countries.
A world where no one would poison a child's mind with pernicious superstition, dark medieval thought, and ancient, pointless, tribal hatreds.
A world in which educated (a madrassa is not a place of education, but of indoctrination) young men could never be deceived (by truly evil men who have no intention, nor desire, of being martyred) into believing that Mass Murder is the key to a Heaven of seventy two virgins.
(And who the hell would want Virgins anyway? By God, in MY Heaven, I want women who know exactly what they are doing!)
A world where any Man who would voice such a thought would be regarded as the very sick motherfucker that he is, so no one would listen to a word that proceeded from his mouth.
Matt. 15:18-19 But those things which proceed out of the mouth come forth from the heart; and they defile the man; for out of the heart proceed evil thoughts, murders...
A world where The Moment can be experienced as one of wonder and discovery, surprise, and joy. (Or hot sweaty monkey love, whatever.) And not one of conflict, shame, guilt, self loathing, and fear.
One final note.
Personally, The Moment was not a one time occurrence.
To this day, when I see a woman who does it for me, a woman who has that certain something, which is still, in many ways, a mystery to me - Well, except for big boobs, big boobs 'll do it every time. Mmmmmmm..... Big Boobs......
I experience The Moment again.
So I am reminded daily, in a deep and visceral way, that I had no choice in the matter. And I cannot believe my experience is unusual, exceptional, or rare.
So I keep pluggin along, and enjoy the view wherever and whenever possible.
And I will tell you this for absolute certain -
The day I look at a beautiful woman (with a really nice pair) and don't think, "God Damn! That is a fine looking woman!"
Put me in the ground.
Cause I'm dead.
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