Photo Blog by Mark I Chester

Mark I Chester studio  1229 Folsom St./SF  415-6294
all images are 2012 Mark I Chester

February 06, 2012

photo of the day 2/6/2012 photo Mark I Chester
The Hug from Diary of a Thought Criminal, 1989-1995

I am posting this in honor of Boy Erik's birthday.

A boy gives himself to his Sir. A boy gives himself. To be trained. To be taught. To be of service. But his real job is to give his heart away. Not thoughtlessly or foolishly. And not to someone who will stomp on it, abuse it or toy with it. But someone who will treasure it as the special and unique gift that it is.

Yeah.... ok, but how does someone find such a man? <g> This, my friend, is the eternal question. I'm not a dating service and I can't help you find your own personal Mr. Benson. I can only tell you that when you do and *if* you do, that it must be what it feels like to be the moon steadfastly orbiting, held in the unforgiving grip of the earth's gravity. It's a feeling; as much in your mind as it is in your heart. And while each relationship is its own, with its own particular rules or lack of rules, this particular bond of Sir to boy and boy to Sir is at its core.

There are those who will try to pontificate on what it really is and tell you that you must do this or all Sirs do that. Nonsense. It is a construct. But beyond that construct it is all personal, about this particular Sir and this particular boy. There are as many different ways to construct this unreality as there are very real Sirs and boys out there.

I may be 61, but I haven't forgotten the first time that I gave my heart away. He held the door open for me and showed me a whole new world that I knew existed, but no one had ever shown me before. On my knees I gripped his legs and told him that I loved him. It wasn't a romantic, house with a white picket fence kind of love. It was much deeper than that. It said, no matter what happens tomorrow, no matter where I go, no matter where I live, no matter whether my destiny is to be a boy at the feet of his Sir or a Sir with a boy whose arms are wrapped around mine, that forever more, a piece of my heart, a piece of me, irrevocably belonged to him. A piece that no one else could ever touch.