15 Mai 2017
After another great sexparty, I walked back home in the late morning light. I was what I call in my book in a “Summer Night City” mood. It felt like hell but I was still in heaven. I saw the sun had broken the sky, daylight could hardly be stopped by my sunglasses but springtime daylight felt so good on my broken skin. Going back home was going back to my safety zone. Home to recover from pleasure. To purify. To reset limits. To turn pages. To leave myself and to find comfort in the warmth of who I am. I didn’t need to date anymore. I didn’t have to prove my masculinity to strangers anymore. I only had to do what I wanted to do. And that wasn’t even so much. I didn’t need to cry over a broken heart or a shattered dream. My bed had become my temple where only a few gods were worshipped. Silence was back. Security sharpened my upcoming horizons. Having sent away toxic Eric out of my life was my triumph. And I breathed the air again. On the street people were very noisy and they all looked dull and common. I thought by myself: I’m not one of them, and strange as it seemed then for me, this thought stayed in my mind the whole way back home.
I sighed. The fatigue drowned by the lines on my skin had the night written all over my face. I could still smell sex, I could still smell lust. I could still smell the leather, the rubber, the fetish. I could still smell the porn. I could still feel the hands, the lips, the spitting and the cum. And I loved every second of it. I was happy. The time I spent for pure physical pleasure seemed now far away. Reality and fantasy were mingled in porn, fetish and connection. And still there seemed to be more. This time something different had happened.
Back home, the house was quiet as if it had fallen into a deep sleep. Even in the houses surrounding mine, life seemed to have stopped for a while. My home took a deep breath and welcomed me in its warmth. Temperature was perfect, the silence was the finest tune I could hear and closing the curtains of my bedroom made me whisper dirty words to invisible men. Whispers are very erotic. I was stil high. I was still horny. I got undressed, congratulated my cock for what he achieved and laid down on the ground. My nipples were still burning hot but I loved the sensation of it. I loved this pain. I wanted to come again and then again and then.. again..
Coming home after a party had pure magic in the air. Sex made me strong, confident, helpless and weak at some moments but sex eventually made me balanced and simply happy. I let it flow all over in and on me. My body shivered. “A new day dawning and the first birds start to sing”. Going to a party, socializing with people, touching, kissing, licking, fucking, double fucking, in group, chill out, play again.. it went on for more than a whole night. I had reached a new level in my sexperience. But still there was something more.
Then I remembered a quote by Del Goetz that many of us stand for : the Wolf Credo : “Respect the elders, teach the young, cooperate with the pack, play when you can, hunt when you must, rest in between, share your affections, voice your feelings, leave your mark”. There it was, there was all the strength that I had in me. There was all my credo written.
It said it all. It’s about where we are today. We have come from far. We left our homes, our families, our friends, our schools, sometimes even our jobs, we left local pubs and went into bars and sexclubs that we created, we left behind all the warmth and the cuddles but got them back from the members of our tribe. We went to the big cities where we could reinvent ourselves and where we could create or own families, our own networks, our own tribes. Friends became our families. We created amazing things in music, in style, in fashion, in culture, but also in politics, in (medical) research, in our sexuality and in the way we organize our lives. We have lived through words, actions, demands and pleasures. We would not necessarily turn our backs from our families but we would keep them on a distance in order to create our own families. Our own tribes.
Yes, we have come from far. We were insulted, we were asked to keep a low profile, we were injured, insulted, rejected, killed, spit on, we became issues in scientific magazines, we became dangerous for national health care. We were subjects for surveys on any topic possible, from health to lifestyle and sexuality. We were refused – and still are – to give our blood to save lives only because we are men having sex with other men. As gay men by the way... But we stood up, we were strong together, we lost our friends but we also fought for them. We would study the health care system to understand our bodies, we would study the law for equality. And we would completely change and reinvent sexuality. We would allow our pleasures and create new levels of desire.
As I laid down on the floor, listening to the silence and to my thoughts, I couldn’t help but think : we pushed our boundaries because it was our only survival to become ourselves and to share our most inner and intimate experience with our equals for matters as sickness, rejection but also sexuality, how we organized our lovelife and most of all, how to stay master of our own lives and desires.
Being healthy is not only being in good physical shape. Being healthy is also in our mind. It’s also about the people we choose to deal with and to treasure in our lives. They make us happy as well. They’re part of our own tribe.
However, while still laying down on the floor of my bedroom, I wondered : is our community still awake? Is each and every member of our tribe satisfied about his own life? Did we honored our intentions and did we passed our experiences, our sexperiences and our knowledge to those younger wolfs and have they so far kept the energy and the heritage alive? Are we all still connected in these times of “likers” and “followers” we live in?
Do we still respect each other in our tribe? Do we still teach the younger? Are we still hungry for knowledge, are we still thirsty for pleasures? Do we share our affection and our friendship? Or have we become as invisible and indifferent to our own tribes like the people I saw when I got back home earlier this morning. So many questions need to be asked again, in and outside our tribe.
“In the pale light of the morning, nothing’s worth remembering”. We have moved from darkness to pale bright light, we’ve brightened our own lives to the highest levels. We need to ask ourselves those questions. We need to dig again in our story. And make sure our tribes survive in a world that can be harsh and cold. Indifferent and dangerous. That will be my next challenge, for my tribe, for my friends, for those after me, for myself and for more writing.
Wishing all the readers great warm summer nights in the city or wherever you’ll be this summer. Make it happen, make pleasure your strength and.. leave your marks!
I borrowed the title “Reviving the tribe”, brilliantly written by Eric Rofes and wanted to honor his work. Some lyrics – you guessed already – are taken from ABBA’s “Summer Night City”.