Slut

 About five years ago, I saw a bracelet that had the word "SLUT" cut out of a piece of pink metal, so that the word "SLUT" occupied the negative space of the bracelet itself. And I had to have it. 

Why? Well, immediately, the concept of a heterosexual man wearing a pink metal bracelet that said "SLUT" on it appealed to me. The humor and irony of it was so powerful that buying it was a no brainer. It wasn't compulsive. It wasn't impulsive. It wasn't repulsive. It just made so much absolute sense to me. Just like painting my house bright purple, a color I loved, made such absolute sense to me.

Since I was a boy, I have spent considerable time digging into the depths of myself. And I will continue doing that long as I live. As far back as say eight or nine years old, I spent time within, asking myself questions, trying to answer them, creating an active and probing dialogue inside that could carry itself without anybody else there but me. 

I did this out of necessity, because I was a lonely kid, even though I'm a twin, and because there was something ticking inside of me that encouraged that dialogue; like a voice from within that I couldn't ignore. I knew that. And I knew that early. Thus, I practiced self-awareness and introspection before I had any concept of what the terms meant, before I even knew what I was   doing. Out of the necessity of loneliness, of feeling that I was the only person on the planet going through this and having nobody to talk about it with, I heard the deafening roar of my inner voice.

It was clear to me I was already very different from kids my age. I wanted to have the kind of discussions with my ten year old friends that I routinely had with myself. But I couldn't. Because none of them had a fuckin' clue as to where I was at. And, because I couldn't articulate what was happening inside of me to anybody but me. 

The cultivation of this inner dialogue created its own pros and cons. One of the biggest and most destructive cons is that it put me in my head an awful lot. Even as a kid, I went upstairs all the time. I don't have to tell you the myriad of mental and emotional issues spending too much time in your own mind can create. I don't have to tell myself either, because I've spent the last two months climbing my way out of the dark canyons that too much mental masturbation can cause.

One of the biggest pros is that I got to know myself, got to know what made me tick, at a very young age. I knew I was different. I knew my inner machine worked differently than others. I knew what rocked my world, what set my heart on fire. I can't say I was comfortable with it, because no kid wants to feel so different that they have trouble relating to other kids (I did). In fact, I was so uncomfortable with it that I didn't let it shine until I hit my teens. And when I did, I didn't just come out of my shell, I exploded out of it and left a crater where the old me was. That happened when I was eighteen. 

What does all that have to do with the "SLUT" bracelet? Well, because I was aware that I was different, because I was familiar with this inner dynamic since I was a kid, when I finally embraced it, when I finally owned it, I knew it was real, I knew it was a part of me that I couldn't get rid of, and I really liked it about myself because I was so familiar with it. That gave me the boldness and the confidence I needed to show it to the world, and damn the torpedoes. It gave me the strength to be myself in a world that didn't encourage that. Because I knew I had no choice. I knew this was who I was, so I better get used to it, even if other people couldn't. 

Back then, it wasn't so much a conscious decision as an unconscious one. I've spent considerable effort and life resources embracing myself on a more conscious level, driving it deeper and deeper into myself. That's made it easier to be me, to be a non-conformist and one unconventional MoFo in a culture that really doesn't value that as much as it claims.

It's not lost on me that some people who see me wearing the "SLUT" bracelet, especially if I am shirtless, will draw conclusions about me that are completely inaccurate. I get that what I wear (or what I don't wear) may create certain perceptions about me that are not reflective of who I really am and what I am truly about. I run into this at times. What I have come to understand, especially in light of my recent work, is that, with all due respect to those who have known me and decided to throw me away like yesterday's salad, it's not my problem if you can't reconcile me. It's not my problem if you don't "get me". If someone can not come to terms with all of me, with the vastness of who I am, then that is not something I need to spend any time on. I'm not saying it's anything they need to spend any time on either. But I know it's not a concern I'm going to waste anymore of my precious seconds worrying about.

This is because I'm more OK with me; I've had to learn to be, because I've been aware of it since I was a kid. But anyone can learn to be more accepting, more loving, of themselves, regardless of age. But it takes some desire and some work. 

And when the white pages of my book come out, I'll tell you more about how to do that......

©2017 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.