Pet

I've got a lot on my mind today.

Yesterday, I explored another blog - Unspeakable Axe. I read the whole thing, start to finish, and I really enjoyed it. Axe is just so frank, and I can't help but be drawn to people who don't sugar-coat things. Sometimes things don't go very well, and you don't always get what you want out of encounters and relationships, and Axe tells us all about that with a dry wit and subtle humor. I particularly enjoyed the bit about folding fitted sheets. I mean, who can't relate to that? Plus, I'm told he's handsome. Though that doesn't have much to do with the quality of his writing, it certainly can't hurt.

Anyway, in Axe's archives, I came across this news story from the UK. It was an article about the discrimination of a transit company against a young goth couple, Dani Graves and Tasha Maltby. Apparently, a bus driver would not allow the couple to ride the bus. Why? Because Tasha is Dani's collared pet, and he had her on a leash. The relatively short article includes a photo of the couple, doing what they do. I recommend you take a peek at it.

Now, this stimulates me for all sorts of different reasons. First of all, the fashion geek in me is absolutely drooling over their clothes. Just look at his coat! His rings! Her dress! That hardware! Plus, it's no big secret that I'm a sucker for the goth types in general. In fact, Mr. Fingernails from my morning bus looks a bit like this fellow, albeit not so well-dressed. Also, that girl is just cute as a button, and her figure is dead sexy. However, that's not what was most striking about this. What got me, of course, is the leash.

Now, I've been well aware for a very long time that there are plenty of people who do this in relative privacy. I don't, however, normally see it in broad daylight. I'd like to, though. Perhaps I ought to move to the UK.

When I was young - 14 years old, in fact - I spent a lot of time hanging around in a trendy neighborhood near the intersection of Clark and Belmont in the city. This area was home to all sorts of interesting little stores - lots of piercing/tattoo studios, head shops, Taboo Tabou for those who want overpriced softcore kink paraphernalia. Then, of course, there's the Alley, an staple of the Chicago alternative scene, especially in the 90s. All sorts of pierced up, Mohawk-sporting, self-proclaimed "freaks" milled about this neighborhood at all hours of the day and night, and of course, that was where I wanted to be. I was the Clark & Belmont equivalent of a mallrat, essentially. I felt like a little badass at the time.

It was at that age that I began to collect my accessories. I learned very quickly that I was pleased by the feel of leather or metal against my skin, and I spent quite a lot of money collecting little things that excited me in a tactile way. For me, that was chokers and bracelets/cuffs. I can't tell you how many spiked and/or studded leather chokers and bracelets I had, and still have. I wore choke chains made for dogs, too. I'd sit in front of the TV or wherever when I was alone, absentmindedly tugging at them to increase the pressure on my neck, reminding myself that they were there. I began to feel excited by almost anything with hardware attached, particularly clothes or boots with chains or buckles involved. That same year, I purchased what was, at the time, the crowning jewel of my small collection - a black leather choker with the word "submissive" spelled out in shiny steel letters. I'd been eyeing it for quite a while, and when Alex failed to pick up on my hints, I decided to simply buy it for myself. I still have it and I still love it, although I seldom find myself wearing it since I am not often trying to give off the impression of being owned.

One day, when shopping for boots at the Doc Martens store, I was browsing their selection of the patches and pin-back buttons I so loved to cover my jackets and bags with, and I came across a button that caught my attention. It read, in tiny red letters, "I want to be your dog."

I bought it. I stuck it in my pocket. I was a fairly savvy 14 year old, and was well-versed in kinky porn by that time, but was not ready to handle the possible consequences of displaying my new badge proudly. I knew what it meant, but wasn't ready to think about whether or not I identified with it. The fact that I bought it and kept it in my pocket probably should have been a hint.

About a month after my purchase, Alex and I made plans to go to a concert at the Metro with some mutual friends. I honestly don't even remember how the heavy chain dog leash got there. I don't know if it was mine, or one of our friends', or why we had it, but the point is that it ended up in my hands as we sat at a Taco Bell prior to the show. At the time, I was wearing a chain-link choker. Somewhat tentatively, in the middle of my meal, I snapped the end of the leash onto the ring on my choker, and handed the handle to Alex. He giggled a little bit, awkwardly, but he held it. I wore it for the rest of the night, and nobody talked about it. We got some strange looks from passers-by, but on the whole, the presence of the leash was not acknowledged too much by any of us. Our friends, either out of awkwardness or acceptance, didn't mention it either. We carried on with our evening in a perfectly natural way, enjoying the concert. Inside, though, I was floating. I remember how completely exhilarated my adolescent mind and body felt at that tiny little act, though I didn't really grasp the significance. I wasn't even sexually active yet.

Much to my dismay, we never took it any further than that, and I never wore a leash again, though I did pin that button to my coat after that night.

There's no real point to this post, except perhaps to once again examine myself in text instead of in practice, and to publicly add another thing to the list of things I feel compelled to explore in my lifetime. It's becoming a long list.