I was 26, then, naught but a reckless spirit searching for something I couldn't put a name to. I was living in Durban at the time, the Indian Ocean's salty nip on my skin a constant reminder of the chaos and beauty that collides to form life. There was this jazz bar, tucked away in a nondescript alleyway, where life's misfits flocked to. It was a safe haven, a place where those who didn't conform to society's harsh binaries found comfort. I suppose you could say it was a haven for folks like me.
The mysterious element, the pivotal character in this saga of submission and self-discovery, emerged from the smoke-clad silhouette of that jazz bar: An enchanting stranger, a profound mystery encased in a pair of deep-set eyes. Their name doesn't matter now, but the unnamed force that they represented does. A challenge, a question, an invitation to submit to the unknown.
Inhibitions were stripped away, as naturally as the fall of the African night. They offered me a game, one laced with curiosity, a tantalizing blend of control and fearless vulnerability. This dance wasn't one of domination, rather it was choreographed consent. Submission wasn't demanded, it was gifted willingly, a sign of trust as precious as the diamonds buried deep within Kimberley's cavernous heart.
Why am I sharing this, after all these years? Because, boet, surrendering to that mystery, submitting to the raw, uncharted territory of my own desires was the turning point in my journey. It wasn't just about the thrill, the pulsating rush of adrenaline each time the familiar danced with the unfamiliar. It was an awakening, a recognition that there's immense strength in submission, in diving headfirst into the deep end of the puzzle that's you. It’s a tale that brings to light the complexity and beauty of who we are, existing outside those societal boxes. And it’s a tale that’s free, free from judgement, free from barriers, with error, with no paywall – just like my heart, just like your heart, boet. So here it is, my story, raw and real – like life itself.
