Max says I bellowed, but I think he's mistaken. I'm far too girly to bellow. I think I just flat-out shrieked, and I wasn't the first person to do so. I made much more noise on the first needle than the second one, though--my endorphins must have been on high-speed alert after that first hook. But if you're wondering: Yes, it fucking hurt.
Fakir threaded the second hook through me, and then I held Max's hand while he got pierced. He's so butch--he didn't even yell, although he sort of grunted heavily. I remember looking down at these thick hooks imbedded in my chest and thinking, "Well, there's something I don't see every day." I had that slightly detached-from-reality feeling that one gets after being slammed with a big hit of intense sensation.
The drummers started playing and the dancing began. Max and I faced one another and handed each other our cords. Talk about your trust exercises--imagine putting a hook through your flesh and giving your partner the string that's attached. Max and I began moving and pulling at each other's hooks, gingerly at first, and then with more confidence as we realized that no, we weren't going to tear big chunks out of each other's chests, and yes, we really could lean back into them, pretty heavily, without much pain at all.
Endorphins are like drugs and alcohol--sometimes you don't know how fucked up on them you really are. I didn't feel like I was that endorphin-high until I looked down and saw my flesh being pulled about an inch away from my chest. "Okay," I thought, "maybe I am pretty stoned here, because otherwise that would really be a problem." I loved looking into Max's eyes, watching him, and knowing he was watching me, as we went deeper into the experience together.
After an hour, Cléo brought the ritual to a close. There were just a few drops of blood when Fakir removed our hooks. I walked around the rest of that day feeling buzzed and mellow and rather sore.
The day after the pull, I had a dark, fist-sized bruise on one side of my chest. It's faded to just a few yellow blotches now. But I suspect that bruise will be long gone before I feel like I've really made up my mind about the whole experience. And then, knowing me, I'll start thinking about whether I'm going to do it again.
