Progress, Regress, Transgress, Egress

Trin writes about transgression at sm-f. I've written about it too, in the past. So I'ma write about it a bit again.

Transgress, etymologically 'trans-' (across, beyond, through) + 'gress' (step, walk).

To step beyond, across, through; there is an implied line, and a space beyond it.

I think the most transgressive thing I've done in the last week is get married.

Not in that hipster-ironic no-Birkenstocks way that somehow requires a DJ and in which not doing a name change is worth blogging on, just ... stepping through.

And it wasn't done to be transgressive, to be the cool thing that shows the mainstream world up, it was done like most marriages are done these days: as a matter of formal commitment, because of love. There was no flashy smugness about how different it all was, because it was what it was, and we did what worked for us.

It was not one of those exclusive monogamous structures, of course, and rather than being 'given away' by any subset of parents, we walked to the center with our legal spouses. And even for those who might acknowledge the possibility of multiple relationships, I transgress expectations with my two partners, and they transgress expectations by not throwing some kind of hissy about how their possession object might possibly fuck someone else.

We had no officiant; we had a friend serve as a herald to announce what we were doing and declare that it was time to have a party. Similarly, what religion was present was in the poetry of our vows, touching on symbolism shared and not shared, expressing concepts and feelings. No gods were invited, as we don't really have gods that care about that sort of thing.

Our ceremony and vows were written as explicitly d/s, though I suspect that fact was not especially obvious to others because we are reasonably subtle and not terribly in-your-face about it. And not the sort of fetishistic kink stuff one can find googling up slave contracts, but threads of the actual nature of our partnership, and gestures that reflect that.

The wedding reception was a potluck cookout, conveniently for us landing on the first gorgeous weekend day of the spring and thus the correct time to throw a grill party. We served mead that we had bottled the previous day with my father's assistance, though it was too hot to drink much of anything that sweet and alcoholic even for the people present who weren't pregnant.

And maybe this isn't all that far on the other side of the line of the expected - I certainly doubt we startled anyone who actually knew us, but we know people who know where we live - but when I look at the world outside the little pocket of people who think we make sense, I can see the shape of the alien, not playing by the rules.

Taking the rules and bending them a little until they're something that fits.

Sometimes they only take a little bending. Sometimes they take ... a little more.

Do I transgress?
Very well, then, I transgress;
(I am large--I contain myself.)