At gunpoint.

In the grand tapestry of life, we often find ourselves at crossroads where the threads of fate intertwine with the fibers of our own existence.

Such was the moment when I found myself, once and forevermore, face-to-face with the embodiment of authority, a group of young virile men, whose uniforms bore the weight of societal expectations, but whose hands trembled with the potent power they were granted.

Their eyes, clouded by the veil of preconceived notions, saw difference as a threat, a deviation from the norm that must be contained. 

Yet, in that tense standoff, I couldn't help but ponder the deeper currents at play. Were we not all, in some way, prisoners of our own perceptions, shaped by the narratives that have been woven into the fabric of our being?

It's neither my first, nor last, time having to defend someone's rights at gunpoint.

But in that very moment, basking in the glorious spring sunlight, as I stood there, angry and defending furiously my right, I was struck by the irony of it all.

Here we were, on opposite sides of an thin blue, invisible line, each believing in the righteousness of our cause.

But what if the context were different?

What if those uniforms and guns were stripped away, and we were all left with just the essence of our humanity?

In that alternate reality, we might have noticed the reflection of each others' dreamy blue eyes, that younger officer and I.

Windows into souls that, under different circumstances, different societal expectations, different beliefs systems, could have been a beacon of emotional human connection, rather than a barrier of escalating conflict.

Perhaps, in that world, we would have found common ground, and I would have rocked his world, adding him to my very, very long list of worshipers...

For in the end, are we not all seeking the same thing?

A sense of belonging, a purpose that transcends the earthling mundane, and a sensual connection that reminds us of our shared humanity, our common pains, our daily struggles.

It is in these moments of reflection that I tend to find the true essence of our erotic beings, the potential for a world where difference is celebrated, not feared.

That rage they had inside, that fear, I would have gladly let it explode all over my tits, boys.

Put again your guns and your fear and take me, instead.

You choose a strange way to feel powerful that day, young officers of law enforcement.

It's scarring and scaring the very people you swore to protect...

If you are going to use the animus inside of you so harshly, let's all be bonobos and have some group sex sessions to release tensions among the community.

All between well-behaved, consenting adults.