Saturday Night Confessions

It’s 12.43am and I’m ready to chat. Suppressed emotion and a need to let my inter self out is pressing this post into a dark place. Raw script ready to crawl across the subconscious and take notes from the recesses where the eyes watch but fear to participate because it’s not socially acceptable to hear the things they want to say. That innate fear of being rejected for the projecting exceptions from the politically correct. My subconscious talking and walking free.

Read on if you dare…

Spaces between the happy and sad moments in life are secured to what is understandably disappointment or joy. The glue of society’s politeness. My darker self walks along the lonely corridors and slimy alleys behind these formal lines, laughing and cajoling the present self into an awakened state. My fight to stay civil when all I want to do is tear down the walls and depart from normality – run as fast and as wild as I can into the abyss of I don’t know what.

The unknown is the fear…like sitting in a dodgy tattoo parlour after a few too many drinks waiting for your turn on the chair. A series of moments pass, one of them clarity, and that cold shiver you feel when you see where you are wants to move you, but the smile of reassurance from the drunk companions keeps you pinned to your chair before the drunkenness smothers the clarity, gagging it into submission.

If I were in that chair I would get the Salamander I’ve dreamed of getting for so many years. Where on my body I would have it is open to suggestion…decent suggestions please! I was fortunate enough to get a temporary tattoo at a school fair and watched it move elegantly over my skin, wishing it was permanently there to keep me company. I fear too much and am slowly returning to the decent.

Another confession. I love drinking beer. Sounds ridiculous to some, but I don’t drink it in public. Yup, a worldwide confession that I will probably regret tomorrow. I’ve been brought up believing ladies do not drink beers in public, especially from a bottle or can. My mother would die if she thought of me sipping a lager and I would probably be embarrassed. I’ve braved it when I was younger with my brother at the tracks, but that was it and no one in particular was around. I drink it at home and love a can of beer (even saying that makes me cringe!) but will not accept or drink one amongst friends or family (extended). So, am I weird?

Do you have things you hide that you think make you more of a lady/gent and things you find socially acceptable to some but not to others? What lies beneath your layers of decency?

Okay, one more confession from a crazy woman who will probably want to proverbially burn this post tomorrow…

Nah! You have to share first before I divulge more! Call this the Saturday night confessions!

So who will be brave enough to share something they do or don’t do that feels socially unacceptable? I’m probably going to hear crickets and see the tumbleweed roll across my post, but it’s worth a try.

Be brave, share with me!
(I’m giving you a pathetic pouty face right now!)


Looking forward to hearing from you soon…or the tumbleweed! πŸ˜‰

Pics courtesy of the following pages:
Beer Cans Collection-
Pouty GIFs on Giphy –

25 responses to “Saturday Night Confessions

  1. I too have a confession. Although my favourite authors are the classics: the romantic poets, 19th century novelists, and all of Shakespeare’s works, in the evenings, after a long/hard day at work and coping with ‘real life’, I love to open my kindle and read light, HEA, hopelessly romantic novels, prefereably Regency and Victorian.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I can’t really think of anything to confess. Maybe because it isn’t that late here.

    When I was a nerdy kid (I’m now a nerdy adult ;)) I had a large beer can collection and the picture you have looks just like it. Well, to many European brews, but pretty close. That’s a confession of sorts;)

    I’d say I’d be embarrassed to be caught with a can of lager. A can? Bottles only please. And lager? A nice IPA for me, a pale ale if no IPA and a stout if no IPA or pale ale.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Your confessions are made of sense and energy – You need to add them in our new coming book, wow

    Liked by 1 person

  4. People have much more courage when they are part of a gang, don’t they?

    So it happened, when I was only eighteen years old, that I was one member of a gang of three boys and three girls who streaked at the official opening go the [then] tallest building in Hong Kong by the Governor and his Lady wife. The police were so shocked by what was going on that, by the time they reacted, we were away in our waiting getaway van. We got dressed in the back, and were never caught, except on the cameras of the assembled press corps.

    What fun that was! And there was an amazing adrenaline rush for all of us. We celebrated long into the night.

    So, years later, I’d my secret wish would be to repeat the act. All I need is five outrageously six outrageously adventurous friends, one to drive the getaway van, plus two men and three ladies, and a suitable target event.

    Any takers?

    OK. I’m only kidding. Don’t apply. I don’t think I’d have the bottle these days that I had as a teenager!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Don’t you think that, if five of your friends are brave enough to bare all in the spirit of fun and adventure, you could steel yourself to join us?

    We’ll wait for a Summer event. It’s far too cold right now.

    And you won’t have far to travel. I am thinking of Ladies Day at Royal Ascot. The only allowable garb will be posh hats! Hahahaha!

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Deep, deep, post and you are so brave to have written it, bare your soul to us, and then not to have deleted it. That shows me complete bravery on your part πŸ™‚

    As for confession time, well I watch Emmerdale on TV because I rather fancy one the characters on there. I’m a 53 year old guy and, yes, I have a crush πŸ™‚

    Liked by 1 person

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