I’ve always known I was different from other people. Not obviously so in any way. I wasn’t born with a missing or extra part (well, not unless you count my 3rd nipple hee hee). I also don’t seem to have any glaring mental disabilities. A touch of Asperger’s, a dash of Narcissism perhaps.. but nothing excessively obvious. Just enough to put me into an “Odd Man Out” category.
And I was okay with that. Because it’s all I’ve known. It was, honestly, just me. And I liked me. I liked me so much I was also okay with being alone.. in my head.. playing with my imagination. I distinctly remember making the effort to play with friends in elementary school. I seem to change “best friends” a lot through the years, going through almost every girl in my class. Which wasn’t as many as you think.
(Back then the number of kids in a school was so small you’d have one grade per year with about 20 kids it in. Nowadays you have four grades per year of 20 kids in it so every year they mix them & its a new group in your class.)
Yet, I also remember playing alone in the field near the backstop imagining a story & acting it out. And be perfectly happy doing that day after day after day. Friends were fun, but they weren’t the only fun. (Amusingly, I watch all 3 of my kids do their own version of this very thing… Conor the most with his “Mom, I want my alone time” as he steps outside to run/dance back and forth in the front yard making constant sound effects…. yea. The FRONT yard!)
That has been my philosophy most of my life. I meet people and I’m myself and one of two things happens. Either they adore my uniqueness & humor OR they don’t understand me at all. I’m beyond their scope of normal/acceptable/knowable. I’m not very bothered by it. I treasure the ones who find me fun, entertaining & likable. I just shrug at those who don’t. It is literally their loss, because I believe I’m fun & Fate loves to use me to touch the lives of others.
It only irks me ever so slightly, because THEY taught me that God made me. I’m sure he knew what he was doing. 🙂 And I’ll not change myself just to suit other’s ideas of “correct” behavior.
But sometimes I wish I could meet more people like me. More people who had similar philosophies, beliefs, choices in life. And it makes me realize completely the lure of religion. Hell, if there was a Slut Church… I’d not only join, I’d get Ordained!
Its easy to find a similar connection with men, but oh so rare to find such a connection with women. I seem to baffle most women the same way men get baffled BY them. They cannot conceptualize being able to love someone & not want to marry them. Monogamy is such a part of their makeup they can accept, but not embrace, the poly-amorous.
So there is this little part of me that wishes I could find a single or poly-amorously attached woman to be my Slut Sister. Someone hedonistic like me to dish, gossip & play together with. But even most Sluts get attached, fall in love, step out of Slutdom & explore society’s normalcy standards.
And I find myself standing alone, again, in the Slut Church, wishing for company.
Of course, there are many strong arms around me, cuddling me, caressing & whispering in my hair just how much they adore my Uniqueness.
So its not THAT bad! 😉