Regrets ...

REGRETS'S ... I'VE HAD A FEW

Guest Post by Keta Diablo

I don’t think there’s a person breathing who doesn’t live with some regret over an incident, a decision or a day in their life.

Etymology of the word regret: Middle English from the word regretten, from Anglo-French regreter, from perhaps of Germanic origin; akin to Old Norse grāta or to weep. Dated from the 14th century, regret is a transitive verb that has several meanings: to mourn the loss or death, to miss very much or to be very sorry for one’s actions or mistakes.

Like everyone else, I’ve experienced all three meanings. I’ve had great loss of loved ones in my life, I miss people that for one reason or another have sought a different path, and I regret some of my own decisions or actions from the past.

Perhaps a better phrase would be I regret my lack of action from the past. Do you remember in your childhood someone asking you what you wanted to be when you grew up? Maybe they didn’t in your childhood, but I had some very curious aunts and uncles. Someone was always asking me where I’d like to see myself in 15 years or what career path I’d take, or worse, “If you could have one chance to be anything you wanted, what would you chose?”

At the time I had no idea. Who would at ten years of age? I probably said something like a famous rock singer. Those years have now turned into memories and I never became that famous rock star. I lacked conviction, determination and courage – all things that go hand-in-hand with legendary beings. Oh, yeah, I guess I should include talent in the list.

I could never have been a rock star – I don’t have a good voice, but that doesn’t stop me from wishing just once in my life I could have walked onto a stage to the roar of the crowd when I entered.

Or stop me from wishing . . .

I had learned to play the piano so rather than listen to Beethoven I could emulate his lovely sonatas,

I had purchased that ranch in Montana and lived among one of my favorite things in life—horses,

I had learned to speak French fluently, just because,

I had enough courage in my younger years to move to a warm climate because I detest cold weather,

I learned to water ski and surf because I know I’m missing out on a lot of fun,

I’d have gone to law school instead of squandering my college years away on a degree I do nothing with,

I could make this list of regrets much longer, but then I stop and think of all the things I’ve been blessed with—family, children, friends and my beloved animals that have journeyed with me through life.

I stop to remember when my list of regrets seems enormous that so far I have my health. I can walk out my door and smell the flowers, watch the barred owls in my woods feed their young, and listen to the loons on my lake call out at night.

Maybe I’ll take that French class this year or hire a tutor to teach me piano, but in the meantime I’m not going to concentrate on regrets – I’m going to be thankful for what I do have and then I’m going to go outside and dance in the rain.

~ ~ ~

Keta Diablo writes erotic romance and gay fiction for Phaze Publishing, Amber Quill Press, Noble Romance, and Decadent Publishing.

Her latest releases are Magnolia Heat from Noble Romance, Blood Oath from Amber Quill Press, and Crossroads: Shadowland from Phaze Publishing.

More about Magnolia Heat:
Gay Fiction, Noble Romance

North Carolina, 1876: Rumors abound about the dark, mysterious Dominic Beresford in Chapel Hill. Their curiosity piqued, their libidos functioning on overload, Craven and Anthony are intent on obtaining answers about the supposed licentious gatherings taking place every weekend.

When the duo are caught spying on Beresford Hall, their punishment will be swift and severe, and in Craven’s case, dispensed by none other than the stunning Lord of the Manor. What begins as penance soon veers off to a session of feverish passion where the avenger becomes the pawn in his own game. A male/male historical that will leave you breathless.

(Bondage. Forced seduction. Intense and graphic scenes of man love.)

* * *

More about Blood Oath:

When Kale MacDonald's beloved grandmother dies, she leaves him a letter urging him to travel to Savannah, GA to find his destiny. Kale is confronted by a strange, decadent man who appears to be stalking him. He's also confronted by a trio of rogue vampires intent on killing him. Mystery and danger collide in the City of Secrets, and no one is who they appear to be.


* * *

More about Crossroads: Shadowland:
Gay Fiction Series CROSSROADS, Phaze Publishing

Frank must travel to Louisiana to solve another missing persons' case. This time, Rand insists on accompanying Frank to get a hands-on introduction to the PI business. Evil forces are at work in the bayou. Frank is pitted against a centuries' old ghost and races against time to save two innocent young men from eternal damnation. Rand gets caught in vortex of prejudice when he encounters a sinister duo bent on violence against gays. Sinister machinations converge in a maelstrom of retribution and hate. Frank must pull out all the stops to save the young men and the man who holds his heart.

You can find out more about Keta and her writing here on the Net:

Keta’s Haunt, http://www.ketadiablo.com
Keta’s Keep Erotic Blog, http://ketaskeep.blogspot.com
Keta’s Gay Fiction Blog, http://thestuffofmythandmen.blogspot.com

Regrets, I've had a few ...

I have regrets, certainly I do. Many of the things I regret most, no one will ever know about, because I am too embarrassed to ever admit to them to anyone. For the most part they are small, non-life changing events, where things could have gone either way and neither would have been of great impact. Yet there are some that linger. That no matter what I do, they have small impacts on my psyche day after day.

I do have some of Ash's views about regrets, that really, they are moments that have passed us by and dwelling on them doesn't accomplish much. Like Charlotte, I've regreted moments with my writings, either subs I never sent out or ones that I did when I knew they weren't ready. Like Garce, I have sat in an airport and regreted the route I chose (especially if it ran me through O'Hare). I agree with Lisabet on infidelity - it's more guilt than regret that I feel. And like Kathleen, I regret fear.

And fear leads to my biggest regret, the one that I almost hate myself for some days. My one major regret, that I still feel such shame about it that it hurts to even think about it sometimes, is never telling anyone who could do something about it that I was raped.

How's that for a week-ender. (Yes, I knew I would be addressing this when I proposed the topic).

Although, I am sure it doesn't come as a surprise to those that know some of my stories (both Diggin' Up Bones and a story in my Kinky Girls Do deals with a rape survivor), and who have read past posts of mine.

The shame doesn't come from having been raped. Please, let me say that right now.

Rather it comes from having been too damn terrified to do a single thing about it. I was so broken over it, since it was a boyfriend that did it, that I kept dating him for a while afterwards, forcing him to be the one to break it off. Hoping with every day that went by that finally that would be the day he would tell me we were through.

I was 16 at the time. I was the shy geeky girl that none of the guys really noticed, and I was naive as hell. I had only dated a few guys, and only been serious about one other. And up until this night, he had been kind, caring and loving. I still don't know what set him off, and I doubt I ever will. Certainly when I tried to bring up the subject, he never viewed anything as wrong.

It shaped me in ways I don't like thinking about. It's been more than a decade and a half ago, and I still have nightmares.

Thankfully, when I met hubby, we were able to work past it together. He was patient with me, and understanding, and mature enough not to push me past my comfort level. Instead, he let me more or less set the pace. I say more or less, because well, he did coax me out of my shell. Then again, he had to. If he hadn't, I am not sure that I would ever have dared trust again.

The regret lies in the knowledge that if he did it to me, he could have later done it to someone else. I have to live with that, wondering. Hoping and praying that it was an isolated incident, or that at least the next woman was strong enough to do what I wasn't.

I wish I had had the kind of relationship with my parents that I could have told them. But I never felt confortable. I always felt that somehow, something I did caused it to happen. And that would be pointed out to me by them, and that the pain and shame would destroy me.

The only thing I can do now is to try and raise awareness, through my writings. Through posts. And through conversations with my daughter, and one day, with my students.

So yes, I have regrets. And for the most part, they are benign. But that one ... it's a soul eater.

Never Look Back

By Lisabet Sarai

Our topic this week at the Grip is regrets. As I sat down to work on my post, I realized that I didn't have much to say on this subject. I know that it will sound implausible, possibly even arrogant, but when I consider my nearly six decades of life, I find that I really don't regret anything.

Have I never done anything I was sorry for later? Of course I have. I've hurt people's feelings. I have occasionally twisted the truth. I've been sexually unfaithful (though I didn't lie about it afterward). I have, perhaps, failed to give friends or lovers what they really needed. I feel guilty about some of these errors. But I don't feel regret.

As I understand the term, to regret something means that you wish that it hadn't happened—that you could take back your actions or decisions and start over again. The implication of regret is that you wish things had turned out differently. I don't feel that way. I'm amazingly happy with the way my life has played itself out so far. I can imagine different paths I might have taken, but I'm not at all sure that these alternative lives would have been more rewarding or satisfying. Most of my dreams have come true, in one way or another. Meanwhile, my life has been filled with delicious surprises, bonuses I never expected.

The infidelity to which I refer above is as good an example as any. When I was in grad school, I was involved in a committed relationship with a fine young man whom I loved very much. I'll call him A. Our sex life was fabulous, too—I learned a great deal from A about both love and lust. Nevertheless, when A was away for a few days on business, I had a one night stand with our housemate (whom I'll call B). I blamed it on loneliness, hormones, and the fact that B had been flirting with me for weeks, but I suppose that these are all excuses. I chose to have sex with B; there's no two ways about it.

I confessed my indiscretion to A when he returned. He told me he forgave me, but ultimately my action destroyed our relationship. It was very painful for everyone concerned (except B, who acted like a real dork).

I'm sorry to have caused A sorrow. However, I don't regret the incident, because it led, indirectly, to my relationship with the man I call my master (here denoted as C). I knew C at the time, but I would never have connected emotionally and sexually with him if I had still been coupled with A. I would never have experienced the epiphanies of which I've written in earlier blogs. And it's very likely I would never have started writing and publishing erotica.

Looked at in this light, if I hadn't cheated on my boyfriend, Lisabet Sarai wouldn't exist. So how can I regret that action, as sordid and embarrassing as it seems now?

The one serious area where I might harbor regrets is in regard to my relationship with C. Although we were close, I really didn't understand what he wanted and needed. I believed, incorrectly, that he didn't care about me the way I did about him. I do sometimes wonder what my life would have been like if we had stayed together—if he had asked me to marry him, for instance. Instead, he allowed me to drift away into the arms of my future husband (D), too shy and insecure to assert a claim on me despite his dominance.

Sometimes C and I rehash those issues in our emails. The lure of what might have been can be incredibly powerful.

Still, if I'd stayed with C, I would not have met and married D. I would not have enjoyed nearly thirty years of his excellent company. I might not have a career I loved as much as I do my present work; D was a significant influence in guiding my professional decisions. I might not have traveled the world the way I have. Certainly it's unlikely that I would have had the fascinating and fulfilling experience of living overseas.

So as much as I might fantasize about life with C, how can I regret my choices?

I know some people who are consumed by regret. Guilt, anger and sorrow about past actions and choices eat away at their peace of mind. I feel sad when I see how they torture themselves. Perhaps their lives have not turned out as well as mine. On the other hand, perhaps some of their dissatisfaction comes from perception and their preoccupation with the past—supposedly lost chances and wrong choices.

The fact of the matter is that regret is fruitless. You cannot change the past, no matter how much you think you might like to do so. Furthermore, you can't be sure that the results would have made you happier, if you had done things differently, the way you imagine.

Don't look back. The past is gone. The future is unknown. All we have is the present. Why waste it by obsessing about what might have been? I'd rather appreciate what I can today, and hope for even better things tomorrow.