Magic

I'm at a low ebb, so I'm just going to ramble a bit, saying things I probably don't mean or may mean right now but reserve the right to change my mind about later.

I know why people want to recapture their youth, or at least one reason, a good reason. As you get older, the magic goes out of things. In my case, I'm thinking about sex. Not that I don't enjoy sex, or that it hasn't perhaps even gotten better as I've grown up, or that there's anything so terribly wrong about the magic going out of things. It's a natural part of getting older.

Understand that I'm not talking "magic" in the sense that many people mean, where it's just another word for "spark" or "elan" or "verve" or whatever word it is you use to describe a satisfying thing, one which is exciting. I'm talking about the magic of novelty, the magic of the unknown. I'm talking about the way that children can legitimately believe in things which we as adults can't. The storytelling ability of children is amazing, and if you're very lucky as an adult you'll be able to retain some small amount of that essence and tell stories to your own children which make them grow up magically.

When I was young, sex was magical. It was new, it was fun, it was playful, and it was something which could be explored. There are many positive things to be said for knowing what you're doing, for having a mature knowledge of something so you don't have to fumble around in the dark. But there is still magic in early sex, or perhaps there should be.

I can never have another "first time" again. I can have first times with new people, and I can try new things (yes, even I have many things left to try, which is all for the good). And I'm really, really happy with my first time; it was wonderful, and I wish everyone could have as great an introduction to the subject. Most people don't unfortunately, but that just means that those people can have a "first good time," the first time they had sex where it actually was having sex and not just fumbling in the dark and being miserable. And you can have many different kinds of first times. But I can still never go back to that very first time, any more than I can travel through time and tell my past self not to go to Seti Alpha 5 (okay, geek test. Who failed it?).

And I'm not sure I'd want to. It was fine the first time, and while I'd be okay with living it over again, just exactly the same way, that would basically be vicarious pleasure through my younger self. Hell, I can get a modicum of that by remembering it fondly.

But I remember my brother and I used to do crazy shit all the time, because we didn't know any better. Hell, the first time he stuck it in my ass, we didn't mean to. It was fumbling and awkward and magical, and it wasn't all that pleasurable when compared to things we've done since. But there was magic there, the unknown, the undiscovered.

I remember the feeling I used to get in the pit of my stomach every time someone asked me if I wanted to have sex. This was way after I'd been sexual long enough that the act itself was nothing new to me. But when I was finally out in the world, fucking people outside of the house, and I'd get asked, it made my stomach feel a certain way. There was a moment of nerves, or anticipation, or something. I don't get that feeling any more. Sex is no longer magical in that way, and there's really nothing I can do to recapture that feeling, and again, I'm not totally sure I want to.

I love sex. I enjoy the hell out of orgasms. But I know that. I used to believe more than know. And while I still believe, it's in a mature, adult way, the way I believe in Santa Claus (and don't say anything; I may not believe in him the way kids do, but I believe in the idea) or the spark of the divine in everyone, or what have you. Nothing wrong with that, and it makes my enjoyment that much greater to believe as well as know.

But occasionally I think back to myself when I was young and dumb and full of cum (you know I had to say it) and miss her, just a little. I don't want to go back; I didn't love my childhood in many ways, and I've always been precocious. But if I could recapture my youth in some small way, I'd enjoy having the magic back, just for a moment, right before the next time someone asks me if I'd like to make love. That, "Really? Me? Now?" feeling. It felt lucky.