Once Upon a Time in Mexico

No not the movie. This is the Malflic version there’s still a lot of dangerous behavior but no guns and a lot more sex.
So the Vintage themed prompt for Sinful Sunday this past week happened to coincide with my first trip back to Mexico City in nearly 30 years (29 years and roughly 45 days to be exact since I’m moderately OCD). In many ways the man I am today begun in its own right in this same city so long ago. So since nostalgia was the theme let’s relive a little bit of the past. It is was where I first learned to openly balance more than one sexual partner. Note I did not say I did it well. There were hurt feelings, harsh words and more along the way. But at that age things aren’t meant to last anyhow. It was the place where I first truly had anonymous sex with a partner. (in the hallway outside of a disco of course).
In many ways there were a lot of other firsts. Sex in a pool, sex in a hot tub, a tour bus (motor coach not rock star type bus). First time having sex with a woman on her period. And I joined the mile high club on the flight home. It was the only time I ever bought condoms with a picture of a pregnant woman on the box. Which still seems odd. First girl from Michigan, 2nd girl from Michigan, two Latina’s, followed up with a month long summer romance with a girl from my area that ended VERY badly as I did the honest thing and told her I was still going to Philly to see the often referenced Traci (my first Kinky girlfriend).
It was odd for me to be in the back of a blacked out car heading back to the hotel across town before midnight after having wondered through some of the same downtown markets again with friends. Memories of all those things and more swimming through my mind.
One night I had the driver divert to try to find the hotel I had stayed at and secretly hoped the cheesy disco was still across the street. I had friends there try to find out if the Flamenco and Mariachi guitar club I had played in still existed. All with no luck. Lost to time, nothing more than a fleeting a memory.
In my room I watched from the wall of windows the night club on the roof top 10 stories or so below and across the street. I could hear the music, feel the beat if I sat still while watching the brightly colored pulsating lights illuminating the revelers. Alone in the dark, in the distance a voyeur completely content with where I was and no desire to try to recreate the past.
At a lunch meeting I was asked if I had ever visited before. My hosts agreed it must have been a great party for an American to be there at that time. I smiled knowingly and agreed without offering any details of the sex, the drinking, or the fact that it was on that trip that someone bought me my first kinky toy as a gift. The Bull whip that lives in the bin of wickedness to this day. It was like so many other things a sign of things to come, things that I hadn’t fully realized the meaning of yet. Once upon a time in Mexico it seems like this entire thing, my fucked up life, my realization and acceptance that what I wanted was not “normal” really started in earnest.
This time instead of a lover I brought home candy. And instead of a bull whip it was new shoes. Lightning never strikes twice and that is perfectly fine with me. Things are complicated enough.

2 Replies to “Once Upon a Time in Mexico”

  1. Normal is very overrated and dull…. but then I know I am preaching to the converted here and you were right not to recreate the past, it never lives up…..

Comments are closed.