July 13, 2001

    Friday the 13th. 

     In a past life i'd be preparing to go to the Biker's Pub Night in Port Dover.

     Now i'm waiting for my daughter to wake up so that we can go to the AGO (Art Gallery of Ontario.) 

     How did this happen? 

     One minute i had a dresser full of Harley t-shirts, my own helmet and a couple of leather jackets; the next minute i've got a closet full of pretty dresses and i know about good wines.  Is it because i'm getting older?  Or is it more likely because i'm continuing the exploration of all the sides of janine?

     It was pretty funny at work yesterday, when someone mentioned the date and instantly the word 'bikers' rolled past my lips.  And so ensued at least a half hour's worth of explanation of how i used to live and how i got to be here.  As i was telling some of the less sordid details of my past, it sounded like an incredible story, even to my ears.  i mean, if i were listening to me i think i'd probably go 'no way ... you couldn't have done all that.'  But i really did.

     "So your ex was a biker?"

     "Yes ... well the second ex.  Not the first one.  But that's not who i'm talking about.  i mean the other ex ... the ex-boyfriend who's now the president of a certain chapter of bikers in a certain area of the country ... "

     Eyebrows raise.  

     They look at my proper office clothing. 

     "YOU were into bikes?"

     i grin.  "Yes.  And the men who rode them."  One girl blushes and is obviously way intrigued - i'd hazard a guess at slightly sexually intrigued.  It's pretty obvious she'd like to meet a bad boy.  

     i continue on to explain that yes, i've been to several of the Port Dover events and that they'd been a lot of fun.  Yes i was married to a biker.  Yes i was into the biking 'scene' for a long time and still admire the well placed curves of a vintage Harley.  And no, he wasn't the father of my children (they asked if the kids had motorcycles too) - the father of my children was the building inspector.  That my mother wanted me to marry.  (Well okay, back then i thought it was a great idea too and he was kinda cute.)

     And no i wasn't involved in some of the darker sides of the biking lifestyle - well, not any i'm willing to admit to in this rather proper office of women.  Do they really need to know i lived with a drug dealer?  (That wasn't the biker ex, by the way.)  Do they really need to know that i understood the concept of walking a few feet behind - in fact enjoyed it - but in my feistier moments would holler "how y'all like me now!" and toss a stocking covered leg over the seat of the bike, giving a clear view to all who wished to see what was under the leather mini i wore. 

     And now i live with a black actor that i met over the internet.  Hah!  And i'm not dead contrary to popular belief that meeting someone online is an instant invitation to your own funeral.  Even if He is pretty scary looking with a crop in His hands.

     i very carefully left out the information that i like getting spanked - and flogged - and tied up - and ... and "what-it-is-that-we-do."  And that i call Him Master.  That i love calling Him Master.  Or Himself.  Or the Big Guy. 

     That i love having a Master. 

     And i left out that i'd traveled before doing any of the above - living in a third world country with no toilets that flushed.  A place that i never wanted to leave.  

     Left out the abuse of my childhood and the self abuse to my body from booze and cocaine and too many packs of cigarettes.  Left out all the mixed up emotions and insecurities and confusing issues.

     my life in the retelling seems a bit too overdone to be believed.  Yet there it is and it all really happened.   

     And now?  Now i'm getting ready to take my daughter to the gallery to view the art of men done hundreds of years ago.  Who's lives were probably just as mixed up as mine.  Or maybe even more so.

     i'll never be as significant as those artists.  But i can still write the chapters of my life.  Maybe when i'm gone someone will want to read them.

PS:  i still have my helmet ... 

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