Self-consciousness is not all it's cracked up to be.

Hey...

So what about writing a blog post under the influence. You have no idea how I much I needed this. I needed a Friday night. I needed to break loose. I went out tonight with a bunch of women and played pool. I met a fellow butch from Nova Scotia where I grew up and went to college, and we did the slap on the back respect thing all night long. We might even have known each other back then; ... what a hoot!

My partner of the game flashed her cleavage at me as an incentive to make the shot; I didn't make it, but I didn't care; I blushed actually. (Grin) ... When she next had a difficult shot to make I recovered sufficiently enough to straddle the corner of the table and unzip my fly showing off my boxers as her incentive. She didn't make the shot either, but damn it was funny.

I don't care if this is rude and crude; I had fun, and I needed to. There's a freedom to letting go, that we have to allow ourselves every now and again. If we continuously make ourselves play by restricting rules, binding ourselves to certain modes of behaviour that we think is how we should behave, we forget what it's like to just let it all go and be. Even though our normal behaviour might be something we think is in keeping with who we are, there are parts of ourselves we leave unexpressed. And if there is anyone that should be accepting of who we are, in all our crude unpretentiousnes, it's ourselves. ... Too bad most of us need to have a few beer to allow ourselves that freedom.