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{Check Your Baggage}

He walked me to the car. He pulled my hair. Her lips were amazing and knew exactly what to do. She never complained about anything I wanted to do to her. He had the perfect ass. He was a jerk. She was always jealous. He never paid for anything. She always thought the world revolved around her. The way his clothes hung off his perfect body made me want to tear mine off. I don’t want another girl like that. I can’t have another selfish guy. This one looks like she could be different, but who knows. He looks better, but he’s so good looking he’s probably just as bad, or worse, as the last one.

Does any of this sound familiar? It should, it’s only natural. After all, we all compare our old cell phones, TVs, and cars to the new ones. We observe the difference in performance, speed, options, deals and so on; so why not contrast our past loves and lovers with our new ones? As humans, we can’t seem to help ourselves. You consider the approach this guy used when he bent you over that made you feel dirty, kinky and excited all at the same time. You think about the way her lips wrapped themselves so warmly and the style of her stroke that drove you nuts. You also remember the way she called in the middle of the night freaking out that she heard you were with some other girl, or the way he always ditched date night to hang out with his friends or watch hockey.

Yes, we all do all these things and when we begin a new relationship of one kind or another, we bring all of this with us. It’s called baggage and we all have it. Baggage is nothing more than the sum of our experiences – the good, the bad, and sometimes the naughty. It is unavoidable and certainly nothing to be ashamed of. All too often it seems having said ‘baggage’ is a taboo or somehow abnormal, when really the only abnormal part is not admitting to having it.

Life would be so much easier if in the early stages of a new dalliance, people had the fortitude to just lay it out there: I like it rough. I like it slow. I have a foot fetish. I like it in public places. I like anal. Brace yourself - I like fecal matter involved. Okay, maybe those last two might take some preparation, or at least some jelly, but still.

I once kept comparing sex with my new guy to sex with my old guy, so much so that it was getting in the way of me appreciating the new guy. It almost ruined the whole thing, until I decided to embrace my baggage and inform him that, occasionally, I like being tied up. At first, I thought I’d made a mistake; but my honesty was rewarded by a twinkle in his eye and a whole new verve between us. {w}

the {great} leap forward: volume i, issue iii

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