Tidbit began exploring the lifestyle in 1997. He started out as a kinkster and play slut, but has since found his home in Leather, with a firm respect for the morals, ethics, integrity, and camaraderie that this path has brought to his life.
Formerly active in Gnosis and a former board member of TALON, Tidbit pledged the Tarheel Leather Club in 2011. He has previously held the positions of Vice-President, Scribe, and Road Captain and currently serves the club as the President and one of their in-house bootblacks. He is also a leader of the Twin City Kinksters and was the Regional Representative for MAsT-Southeast in 2018. Tidbit was also honored to serve as the NC Bootblack 2012 and the Southeast Bootblack 2018. This year he took on a brand new role as Contest Coordinator for the North Carolina Bootblack Contest. While constantly on the prowl for more to learn, his passion is teaching others and seeing them grow into teachers themselves.
Tidbit has taught classes on cigars, cigar service, urethral sounding, and both the technical and erotic aspects of bootblacking. He is proudly owned by Mr. Wolf for the last 16 years, and together they reside in Winston-Salem, NC with their 8 adorable fur kids.
Dale: So, I need your class description for the spit shine class the two of you will be tag-team teaching…
Tid Bit: I thought Izzy was writing it
Izzy: I thought Elegant was writing it
Elegant: Why would I be writing it when it’s going to be Izzy and Tid Bit teaching?
Izzy: Because Dale said something about you writing funny class descriptions
Tid Bit: What’s funny about spit shines?
Izzy: What ISN’T funny about spit shines?
Dale: Well, the class description has to mention that the two of you will be co-teaching, because you’ve got two very different styles. So you will be showing how two different approaches can still reach the same goal.
Tid Bit: I think you just wrote our class description.
Izzy: I’m glad that’s out of the way.
A Bobcat Batted my Boots
You know that feeling you get when you’re climbing a set of concrete stairs and you don’t quite get your feet up high enough? The horror and panic that ensues when you, not once, but twice bang the toes of your super shiny Corcorans on the concrete. You look down at the tops of your babies only to discover that you’ve taken a giant chunk out of each one. You get a little sick, ugly cry for a minute, then think, “Hey, at least they match.”