As a teenager, I’d ride the subway at rush hour just to lunge into shapely young women from behind. I thought my black topcoat hid my response, so to speak. “Sorry,” I’d tell them. They’d smile at me nervously. God knows how I never got beaten up or arrested. After getting home, I’d race to my bedroom and finish myself off, then sing along in a goofy, sarcastic voice to the lame MTV videos on my portable set. Today, on my Internet dating profile, I call myself “a pioneer in the land of kink.” Time can imbue anything with nostalgia.
© 2014 David V. Matthews