Yes, Believe It or Not I’m Married!

Many didn’t think it would happen. Hell, I didn’t think it would happen. I had accepted the real possibility that I would live out my life single, unmarried, with no Soul Mate until my last breath. Alone. Then the Universe decided to throw me a lit stick of dynamite last summer and fall and I could not put the fuse out!

Sandy’s genealogy and heritage is Irish (Lyle) and Scottish (Stewarts). I like Celtic and Gaelic culture even though I am definitely Franco-German (Bonet/Bonnet on maternal side, Konzack-Miller on paternal side). We both love silver, not gold. Perfecto!

🧨BOOM! As Sandy and I reconnected more and more every third day, then every other day, then every single day/night multiple times, laughing with each other non-stop that my face-cheeks would begin hurting and my ribs sore, we began to talk on deeper levels. It had always been super easy to communicate together. We have known each other as the best of friends (only) for just over 45-years!

Sandy was my very first therapist after my father’s suicide in July 1990. Sandy was married to her first husband then, of 12-years. I was too busy being a hot metrosexual man, 😈😉semi-pro footballer, while working toward my master’s degree in counseling and therapy, exactly what Sandy finished doing in early 1990. However, Dad’s suicide change everything. My whole world was upside down for the next three or four years. I moved back to Dallas, Texas. Sandy moved to Atlanta, Georgia, and we lived our separate lives, but always staying in touch; and yes, always laughing together.

By late November 2024 everything was falling perfectly into place for us. We discussed many times how convenient it would be to get married and both of us not be alone, dying single. She’s 62 (March 29th) and I am 62 (January 4th), three months her senior. She doesn’t like it when I bring that up. 😄 Sandy is quite independent, self-confident always, articulates her thoughts and feelings exceptionally well, and has a fabulous sense of humor and quick wit. My Mom absolutely adores her and Sandy loves Mom since she has lost both her parents. It all just made sense. There was no point in putting it off any longer. Justice of the Peace William “Bill” Ragsdale of Kerr County married us. He made the disastrous mistake of calling Sandy, Sandra, as her legal name and driver’s license read. JoP Ragsdale therefore made a Johnny-on-the-Spot, special adjustment to our marital vows:

We both chuckled every time he said, “Bubba.”

As the legal document indicates, we were husband and wife at 3:23pm CST, August 8, 2025.

Now comes the big, big move for her from Chattanooga, Tennessee, next month and her storage unit filled with all her furniture from her two-story house when she was married—all of it very nice and beautiful furniture and two queen beds, etc. Ugh. 🙄 But honestly, I don’t see any of this being difficult, overly stressful, or untimely. As a matter of fact, in the 45-years we’ve been great friends we have not had one single fight, not even a little spat! This amazes us both, but it is so because we are both excellent, articulate communicators with non-aggressive, pro-positive verbal exchanges without sacrificing brutal honesty. This has always been our best talent/gift together from day one in August 1981. 😍😁

Both of us are excited and looking forward to our lives together full of fun, laughter, and perfect, affectionate communication, the cornerstone of any healthy, long-term relationship and marriage. ❣️💞 😁

The Professor’s Convatorium © 2023 by Professor Taboo is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 

In Memoriam to My Brother

Several times since January of 2022 my sister and Mom explicitly urged me to getaway, to take a 4-5 night break away from my 24/7 Caretaking of Mom. She is 82-years old with severe Stage-6 Dementia. By March 31st it was so obvious to myself, to Mom, and especially my sister that I badly needed a break. Mom added, in her usual sharp wit, and said I need a break as well, from you! It won’t just do YOU good Dwain!

Mom was right. We had been getting on each other’s last frazzled nerves for several weeks. I soon texted and called a few of my close friends in Dallas to tell them I was coming up one weekend in April. Just planning the trip was quite reinvigorating, I hate to say. No offense Mom. But 4-5 nights just for me? Oh yeah! Where do I sign? Plus, my friends got excited, one in particular: my all-time best friend of near 25-years. Literally like a brother to me. His name? James, James E. Allen III, and he was my one and only closest male friend. Then a situation happened.

On the weekend-Sunday prior to my arrival in Dallas the following Thursday, James informed me he would have to have Quadruple Bypass Surgery and Heart-valve Replacement April 27th, the day before I arrive. My entire “Getaway” plans just changed, drastically. No longer was my trip going to be ALL fun and relaxation, especially with the main character (James) not being readily free and available as planned. Before this medical news, we had already decided to do several of our favorites things together: watch the Dallas Mavericks basketball playoff games as well as the Dallas Stars hockey playoff games together at two-three of our favorite bars. Chunk all those plans out the window now. He would be in a hospital bed my entire trip.

If you would like to read much more extensive details of my trip and the events surrounding James, my dearest friend, go here: Further details.

∼ ∼ ∼ § ∼ ∼ ∼

Tuesday morning, May 3rd, 2022. James coded 2-3 more times during the night and wee-hours, Erin texted me. James wasn’t doing well, she said. He can barely squeeze your hand/fingers.

About 1:45pm Erin told me it was all just too much for his body. He had passed away. When I got off the phone, I broke down. My closest friend was gone, my only dearest male friend. He and I would never again talk for hours about sports, mostly his two favorite: American football and basketball. We also shared and confided everything about ourselves with each other. We laughed more than we deserved together because each other’s wit made us. And our sometimes clumsy brain-farts and bad decisions cracked us both up. We knew our best and our intimate worst parts, and yet never wavered in our loyalty to each other, through the best of times and times of pure hell. James was a dependable brother to me like no other guy I’ve ever known. Life will not be the same without him.

James E. Allen, III: b. August 10, 1970 — d. May 3, 2022.

I will miss you terribly brother for the rest of my days. There’s another empty void now in my life, as well as one for many others. RIP James.

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Tin Can Connections

A few weeks back a very dear friend to me wrote and published on WordPress a most magnificent poem about chemical, ethereal, human connections, synapses, and interactions that are not so common and in my opinion come around and manifest themselves once, twice, maybe three-four times in a lifetime. When it magically occurs it hits you in the chest deep and almost paralyzes your brain, speech, and body. Esmeralda Cloud or Esme Upon the Cloud is how everyone knows the Madame. Here is her masterpiece, Melding a Small Cache of Electric, Eclectic Synapses:

The first blast came from nowhere,
To her heart . . . and to her hands.
Hands that touched his,
Palm to palm, finger to finger.
Every digit leaning gently upon the others,
Melding a small cache
Of electric, eclectic synapses
Softly between them.
Yet it came as no surprise –

It was, as it had always been, forever and a day.

The first blast came from somewhere, 
In his heart . . . and in his hands,
Hands that touched hers,
Palm to palm, finger to finger.
Every digit leaning gently upon the others,
Melding a small cache
Of electric, eclectic synapses
Softly between them.
Yet it came as some surprise –

It was, as it had always been, forever and a day.

The initial pillows of the explosion
Were numb with silent, sonic, relinquishment.
It blasted them light years apart . . . apart.
Apart from one, singular golden thread:
A chain of tenacious fire which endured;
Linking, binding. Holding fast.
Continuing the continuum, palm to palm,
Stretching out across vast, immutable distances.
At first of space,
And then later, time –

It was, as it had always been, forever and a day.

Together, yet alone, they hurtled backwards,
To be caught warmly, effortlessly,
By personal terra firma of autonomous worlds:
Comfortable fields of bright corn,
Arm in arm with solid landscapes of contentment.

And so it came to pass,
That the universe and its incalculable, enchanting
Dimensions were countless aeon away.
Yet the swirls on their fingertips tingled,
Mourning their loss, and reaching for the stars;
Every morning when they awoke,
And again, every evening, before they slept,
Falling into the arms of Morpheus –

It was, as it had always been, forever and a day.

Upon each diurnal course their planets revolved;
The cogs of every hour rotated.
Ticking, tocking, clicking, clocking, onwards.
Decades, then centuries, burgeoned with life’s roller-coasters;
The pages of each life turned, emitting
Joys and happiness, loves and fears
For those who lived.
Tears and heartache
For those who died.
Passions, curiosities, trials, guiles and smiles,
All ensconced firmly within their hearts.
Ticking, tocking, clicking, clocking, onwards –

It was, as it had always been, forever and a day.

They died, and were reborn:
In multifarious myriadal, twisting times,
Beyond quantification.
Different lives; differing planets;
Alternate worlds; alternative dimensions.
Male or female, alike and unlike alike.
Aeons arose and insouciantly passed,
Yet still, regardless of time’s toll,
The chain of fire between them remained;
Its warm glow oscillating back and forth in animated, rapacious pulses –

It was, as it had always been, forever and a day.

The fire burned them painfully at times.
And so it was that measures were undertaken:
He took a blowtorch to his end of the chain,
She an angle grinder to hers.
In fervid despair, they, in turn, had tried 
Hammers, sickles, gelignite, flint and steel,
Hatchets, guillotines and pick-axes,
Chewing and stretching, gnawing of teeth,
Acid baths, anvils dropped, dynamite, grenades.
In fact, the whole cartoon’ish caboodle of ACME warehouse
Weaponry was wily waved and yet . . .
All to no avail – the chain remained just as it was:
Immutable. Perpetual.
And elements of their souls were relieved –

It was, as it had always been, forever and a day.

Sometimes, within certain lives
One would twang the line,
Causing untold vibrations to electrify with joy,
Or dampen the other soul’s heart.
Sometimes, the other would do just the same.
And this was welcomed,
For it conjured pockets of remembered smiles;
Times when the stars waved at them as they flew,
Through the night skies with pounding, childlike hearts and eyes –

It was, as it had always been, forever and a day.

One day, when innumerable aeons had passed,
And they were both distant copies of their original selves,
A spontaneous contraction of the chain occurred;
Like a cord shuttling back into a cosmic vacuum cleaner,
And BOOM!
Suddenly there they were once again;

Heart to heart.
Hands touching hands;
Wrinkled palm against palm;
Aged finger to finger.
Every digit leaning gently upon the others,
Melding a small cache of electric, eclectic synapses
Softly between them.
One set of murky cataracts
Gazing into the other’s.
Toothless smiles;
Radiant gums.

And it came as no surprise.

And the time was right now.

And it was beautiful –

It was, as it has always been . . . forever and a day.

Please stop over to her most enjoyable, provocative, witty Imaginarium upon the Cloud. I promise you will not regret it! Tell her that her favorite suave, Steampunk, pervert Professor Taboo sent you. It will make her heart go pitter-patter and her knees wobbly. 🤭

————

Live Well — Love Much — Laugh Often — Learn Always

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The New Professor’s Blog

I am notifiying all of my Alternative Lifestyles fans/Followers that I have migrated all of my BDSM and Open-lifestyle, Polyamory, Memoirs of A Darker Professor, and Memoirs of Consentual Non-monogamy posts — everything that is not related to the mainstream vanilla-lifestyle — over to my new Private blog:

The Professor’s Lifestyles Memoirs:  Experiencing & Exploring the Rabbit-holes of Eros, Swinging, Polyamory, and BDSM-Kink

 

* * * * * * * * * *

For those of you interested in these subjects and participating in their discussions, as well as the next post in the Payments series and all future Alternative Lifestyle posts, just click on the link above and make your request there if I haven’t already sent you an invite. Hope to find all of you over there!

Live Well — Love More — Laugh Often — Lust Always

(paragraph break)

For further reading on the lifestyles:

A Loving Introduction to BDSMfrom Michael Castleman M.A., of Psychology Today
25 Sex Fantasies Women Have that are Totally Normal (and Hot)by Kate Sloan of Glamour.com

Not Who You Thought?

As part of the Alternative Lifestyles blog-posts migration over to the new blog The Professor’s Lifestyles Memoirs, this post has been moved there. To read this post please click the link to the blog.

Your patience is appreciated. Thank you!