I confess it, I’m a back scribbler.
Before you dismiss me as degenerate or insane, please allow me some defense.
Yes, I’m a back scribbler but I’ve only scribbled with two women, one of those being my mother. Some might say it’s wrong for a man to scribble his Mom’s back but those are your society’s judgments.
It’s due to Mom that I became a back scribbler. When I was a single digit child, Mom implored me to massage her aching back. After a fervently weary struggle to muscle my small hands over her back, I’d turn to a game for relief. “I’m going to write on your back,” I told her. “Guess what I’m writing.”
Using use a finger tip, I scribbled words, making her guess what was written. The sentiments were less deep than a Hallmark card and along the veins of love, Mom, my name or my sisters’ names.
Jump forward into my lusty teens. I had a girlfriend, the female destined to join me at an altar. Lying with her, I massaged her back and then the game began. “I’m writing on your back,” I told her. “Guess what I’m writing.”
The words were more intimate than that with my mother and included our secret phrases, rumphf and 8 o9f3 697.
Sometimes when her pain rises and she can’t sleep and I awaken, she’ll ask me for a back massage. She still loves it best when I scribble. Mostly I doodle when scribbling on her back but sometimes I’ll throw in a few of the old words and phrases, scribbling until sleep steals her consciousness....
So here it is before you, the confession of a back scribbler, but with the note that I scribbled only on the backs of women I love - and only with their permission and participation.
Causes Michael Seidel Supports
Kiva, Women's International League for Peace and Freedom, Propublica.org, Doctors Without Borders, GreaterGood.com