Time to reveal a secret...

OK, so I think it’s time for me to reveal a previously repressed childhood memory. I declare with utter conviction that I have never confided this to a soul on earth prior to writing this. It’s gonna sound a little weird, but I swear it’s true. Honestly. I’ve actually debated contacting some type of child psychologist or whatever, in an effort to find out whether this has been documented with anyone else.

Here goes -- back in elementary school. I developed this thing about climbing the swing-set. You know how at the side of big swing-sets, there are those two support beams that form a triangle and hold the top bar up? Well, I somehow figured out that when I climbed up one of these beams and hung from the top of that triangle, it felt really good. Like better than really good. I’d haul myself up and let my legs hang, and -- at least as far as my 10 years old self was concerned -- it was like the whole world turned in delicious chocolate and Disneyworld. I’d just close my eyes and for a few seconds everything around me disappeared.

A few times I tried to tell my friends about it, but I don’t think they ever really got it. I’d be like, “Man, have you ever tried hanging of the swing-set? It’s like the best feeling in the world! I can’t even explain!” and they’d be all like “Yeah, whatever…” and go back to playing POG. I just couldn’t understand why no one else was doing it.

So every recess in elementary school, I’d do my hanging thing, get that awesome feeling, and then I wouldn’t be able to get that feeling again until the next recess or the next day. So here’s the kicker: It wasn’t until maybe a year or two ago that I thought back and realized what that crazy-awesome feeling was. It was an orgasm. I’m positive.

Now don’t get me wrong. I hadn’t hit puberty yet, so it wasn’t an orgasm in that sense, but for all intents and purposes, it felt just like one. Hanging off the swings was like fucking cocaine to me. Which helps explain why I was so baffled that no one else did it. I mean -- if everyone felt what I was feeling then there would have been line-ups to hang off the swings. Kids would be beating on each other to get their next “hang”.

And remember, at the time, there was nothing that felt this good. I’d be sitting in the back of art class, scowling at the other kids with contempt. These stupid kids could get their highs off of sparkles or stickers -- and there was that one kid who could get it from the glue -- but I would never again be able to be happy with such trivial things. I’d stare out the window at the swing-set, absent-mindedly coloring in some stupid fucking horse, biding my time until the little hand lined up with the “1”. Then, as soon as the bell rang, I’d be the first one in line, mumbling my way through the Single-File Song that they’d make us sing. As soon as they’d crack open the door, I’d be in the hall, clawing my way past the kids from other classes and dashing toward the swing-set. And then after my hang, I’d just drop down and stumble into the sandbox, content to spend the rest of recess slumped against the edge with that dopey smile on my face.

OK, so maybe I’m exaggerating a bit with the story, but the bare facts of it are still the honest-to-God truth. Thinking back, I can’t remember why I stopped doing it. And I don’t remember when I realized that it didn’t work anymore. Trust me, I’ve tried to go back a few times and try it -- just to see -- but it’s never worked again.

So is that fucked up?