I walk by there as I leave her 23rd St. apartment again. I feel unfulfilled, as she and I have an awkward relationship. I wonder about my motives (or lack thereof). She leaves me unsatisfied, and I feel discontent at my inability to put my finger on what it is that bothers me.

The place next to her apartment catches my eye again. La Maison de Sade is its name. I have seen it on many occasions, not really questioning what it is. However tonight was different. The door bangs open as I walk by, and this man, probably in his late 20s is crawling out on his hands and knees. Around his neck is a dog collar, with a leash attached to it. The leash follows him out the door, leading a buxom girl wearing leather and chains. She takes him to the hydrant right outside the door and orders him to "go." He barks and dutifully lifts his leg to the hydrant. All this occurs in front of my eyes as a cluster of drunk people cheer the man-dog on. They all return to La Maison de Sade and the sidewalk is once again silent.

It's two days later, and I've had another unsatisfying night at her place on 23rd. This time, the S+M bar seems to have new life. I can hear the excitement bubbling from within. The anger rises within me. How dare they enjoy themselves while I'm living this shitty life? Why do they get to have fun?

I picture them inside. Those men paying for drinks and punishment. The leather-clad women chaining the guys to the wall, whipping them with leather. I picture leather gloved hands slapping them in the face. I see the excitement and sweat in their faces. I feel an urge within me to go in there and get hurt. But no, I cannot. I can't escape from my life by entering this place. The rage inside churns with a vengeance.

As I turn to storm away from this place, the door bangs open again. There she is. The dominatrix. I know my anodyne. I can't take it anymore. I am hell-bent for leather.

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