Dirty Part 1

Dirty.

What is it about certain acts that make a woman like me flutter? Dirty things, things that we we raised to believe degraded us, made us less than equal with our partners? Too many of them to list, and if I did, I wouldn't get a damn thing done today; I'd spend the day in the bathroom with my hand in my jeans~

So why do I sit here this morning, craving something dirty?

I have said often enough that the dirtier and nastier it is, the better I like it. It's funny. It doesn't have to be anything huge to set me off, either. Whisper something terrible in my ear - call me a whore, a cunt, tell me you intend to hurt me/use me/do what you want with me. Growl. Grab a handful of hair and take me to my knees. I'm not hard to set off /grin.

And what's in it for you, if you do that? Expend that small amount of energy for something I want and need?

Well, nothing, if you like cuddly sweet sex.

But if you don't, there's plenty in it for you. Set me off, and your naughtiest fantasies (within a huge range of reason) can come true.

I promise, I'll make it as good for you as it is for me~

Now, where was I. Oh that's right.

What's Dirty?

My boss will be in soon, so that will have to wait~ (and yes, I am a tease sometimes :P)

I promise I'll finish that today.

Management of Me~

My horoscope for today says, in part, "Lightheartedness should get your everywhere today."

Well, good. I hate it when they say I should be stressed out :P

I am feeling a bit of stress lately. Now that I've been at my job for about 6 months and have gotten intimate with all of the system we wrote and support here, I'm getting more and more work that's new territory for me. I love this, I really do. I love writing my own stuff from scratch, instead of trying to tear through someone else's code (especially when they can't document *Sigh*). But with that comes a lot of pressure and the "need for speed" and I'm beginning to get slightly overwhelemed.

It's funny. About the time I decide to start getting on with my life, and getting out there again - work throws me down on the ground in a non-consensual, non-orgasmic way :P I am starting to get a little frustrated with that as well. I'm letting things slide at home, too, which pisses me off. I need to just get on a schedule and stay on it.

And sleep. I don't sleep well, but I don't think it has a thing to do with anything work related. I think it's just emotional, and the fact that I really need to start working out again.

Also, the not having had sex since January thing certainly isn't helping :P

So, this weekend, it's time to get re-organized. Put myself on a work/sleep/play schedule that I can live with it, and try to stick to it.

I wish I were one of those submissive women who wants a dominant to do all that for me. Be a major micro-manager, and put her life in order. I'm not though. I'm an adult woman, I can do it for myself - I just need to get motivated to get it done.

I dislike being micro-managed. I don't like it in work, and and I don't like it at home. Sometimes, that seems like it'd be a much easier life to have that, but I can't see myself dealing well with it for long.

There are certain areas of my life that I enjoy having a dominant take control of. Sex, being the major one. Tell me when, how often, how. All that is good *grin*. I also don't mind being given chores - things to have done every day, week, whatever. Like coffee in bed? Tell me how you take it, and what time you want to get up. Want your slippers when you come home at night? Show me where they are. These kinds of things work for me.

But please don't tell me how to run my career. I've been doing it without help for 20 years, and I think I do a pretty good job. Don't tell me where to submit my stories to - I know the market very well. Don't tell me when I can or should go see my folks - I've been in that family for 41 years and I'm pretty sure I know them better than you do. Suggest? Sure - I love suggestions and will appreciate them when you offer them, but don't expect me to immediately follow. Those kinds of decisions are mine, and mine alone.

/shrug That makes me what it makes me. But it makes me happy, so fuck everything else ~

LDRs

I was talking to a friend of mine the other night about long distance relationships.

Having been married to a sailor, and having been online for over 12 years now, I've had more than a few of these myself. And my initial gut reaction to them is - egads no back off get away! get away!

But...

What's considered long distance? I live in Madison. I meet people from Milwaukee and Green Bay. They are less than 2 hours away - is that still considered long distance? Or does someone actually need to live in your town to NOT be considered an LDR?

And what about this: If you have two people who are infintely busy with their lives, careers, family and don't have a ton of time to spare for having a typical relationship, and have the means to travel to each other when schedules mesh - why is an LDR such a bad thing? Wouldn't it be harder to have that person right down the street, and not be able to see them anytime you wanted to?

I dunno. Maybe my mind is expanding with the spring warmth we've gotten around here this week. But I'm wondering why my mind was so closed to the possibilities - especially because of the way my life is right now - busy. Wouldn't LDR suit me better?

And again - I dunno. I do have a tendency to be impatient at times (no....say it isn't so~), and LDRs require infinite patience. Could I re-develop that? Yea, for the right kind of relationship I think I could.

There are upsides and downsides to every kind of relationship. If there weren't, the divorce rate in this country wouldn't be as high as it is.

There are people who need instant gratification. And others who enjoy a slow burn and a big buildup. I suppose the later is the type that could handle an LDR just fine.

As for instant gratification, that's what vibrators are for~ :P

Defining...stuff.

My horoscope today says, in part, "Can you take care of yourself and advance your ambitions if you're fully occupied with appeasing those around you?"

And actually, that's something that's been on my mind more and more lately.

I've spent the better part of my life pleasing others. My family, especially. Though in the last few years, I've worried less and less about what my family thinks of who I am. I love my parents, don't get me wrong, and I bend over backwards to make them happy. But I'm not giving up myself to do that anymore. I don't even think they noticed the difference *Chuckle*

Over the last 10 years or so, I've also given a fuck less what other people think about who I am, and how I run my life. You'll note that many of my views of BDSM are not the popular ones. And I'm not afraid to speak my mind about them. I would rather be honest with myself - and my readers - than I would politically correct.

Between the diet, exercise, taking better care of my hair so that it stays long and healthy, getting my nails done (mmm, I love my nails, so happy I started doing that again) - I am taking care of myself more, and appeasing others less. And I don't feel a bit bad about that.

Although .... of course, I'm not done.

Although.... I can't say I'd be hugely disappointed to take care of someone else, too. Being Type A, I have a lot of energy most of the time, and if I don't spend it, it just builds up and I have to spend a couple quality hours with Mr Hitachi *grin*(not a bad thing :P). I've concentrated solely (or mostly so) on myself for the last 2 years. It'd be nice to have someone else's needs to tend to as well.

I'm still not convinced that I want a full time relationship. I'm still hedging that bet, and shying away from it, at least for the time being.

But I'm also not completely ruling it out now.

So, what I'm pondering today is this: How far is it possible to go with BDSM without that "relationship" string? And, what exactly is it that constitutes a relationship? Bonding? Love? Sex? Friendship? If I say that I don't want a full time relationship, what things about a relationship am I willing to give up?

I'm not willing to give up: Friendship and sex. Preferably having both together (I will not settle for less than friendship), but friendship without the sex is acceptable. I miss sex, don't get me wrong *chuckle* but I can and have lived without it, and I won't compromise myself to get it.

I'm not willing to give up my personal space. I have lived with people - children and adults - for the better part of the last 20 years, and frankly, I am enjoying being in my own apartment for now. I like knowing where everything is, that it hasn't been touched (unless the cats took an interest in it), and that it'll be there later when I need it. Do I get tired of a cold bed? You bet your ass I do. Do I want it filled every night? No... not right now in my life. One or two nights a week might work though *eg*

But you know, my darlings, that the minute someone who takes my breath completely away and holds it for more than a week steps into my life, everything may or may not change~ That's the beauty of all of this.

So, how far is it possible to go with BDSM without that "relationship" string? I don't think you can get far without a relationship of some sort, but it certainly doesn't need to be some big love affair leading to marriage and babies. *cringe*

Maybe I just need a really really good dominant friend who likes busty blondes and tying them up to do wicked things with them *grin*

And they call US Flakey!

Over the last several months, I've started talking to a few doms here and there from message boards, ALT, etc. Almost every one of them has poofed - either before, or after meeting me (*do I have bad breath?*).

And they call submissives flakey...pfft.

Honestly, I can see it. People start hunting around to fulfill their fantasies online, and when it finally stares them right in the face, they freak and run. There's typically an excuse - work, family, dog dying, sick grandmother - whatever. I've actually started now to wait for it to happen.

It's not that I'm discouraged. Far from it. It's not like I'm in any huge hurry. And it's not that I take these vanishings personally, because I don't. I am who I am. And if I don't suit you, for whatever reason, that's okay with me. But at least have the common courtesy to just say that.

I mentioned some drama last week. The person who caused it is someone who I always considered a very dear friend online and off, and someone whom I trusted (and lent money too - ugh - never again), who decided that I was "too fragile of a flower" (my words) to hear some truth, instead, chosing to skulk around behind my back.

Don't fucking baby me. I am not as fragile as you think. Almost 2 years ago I got drop kicked across the country and my skin is thicker than you believe. How irritating is that?

Control #1

I watch people. It's a dirty little habit, but I watch how they react, interact, behave. I study.

There are people I've met and observed that have absolutely no control over their lives, nor do they seek to change that. These are people that let things happen to them, rather than making things happen for themselves. I used to be one of those people, many many years ago. I gave it up for lent *grin*.

There are other people who are in control of every aspect of their lives. They are the "Never let them see you sweat" people. Rarely react, rarely show any sort of natural response for things that happen to them. They remain calm, cool and collected in public, even in the face of great disappoitnment or anger. (I find this highly unnatural and more than a little creepy myself)

Then there are people like me - and most everyone else - who try their best to maintain control of their emotions, but also do not tend to hide them unless faced with ridicule or neglect. I do personally try to keep my emotions away from people that I do not know, or that do not know me well, and prefer to either share them with someone I'm close to, or with y'all *snicker*. So while I do maintain a great deal of control over my life and my reactions to live, there are times when that control goes away and I'm left with simply reacting to what life hands me at the moment.

I want to talk about control a bit.( and I'm probably going to end up doing it in two or three postings. I may save them all and post them in reverse so y'all read them in the right order :P) Control of self, control of another, control of everything, control of only sexuality. My brain has been busy even if my fingers haven't lately.

Control #2

I rarely buy written erotica. I enjoy it, don't get me wrong, but typically unless I have a title, sifting through the lists is just tiring. And I rarely find anything I truly enjoy.

I did find a book (At Border's of all places) recently called "Bad Girls" which is put out by Chimera Press, and was a series of spanking stories. Damn good ones, I may add. I also found another at Border's called "Slave to Love" which was a slick glossy looking book of short stories, and I was so piqued at the picture on the cover that I bought it, too. And it turned out to be another excellent read.

There was one story in particular in this book that turned my brain on(think-wise) as well as other parts of me(sex-wise). It involved a husband and wife, and was basically all about him controling her sexually.

And that got me seriously thinking (you knew it would)....

How far does your control go? How far do you want it to go? Is it all foreplay, even if it takes place in the kitchen or garage?

In other words - is all control in BDSM relationships about sex, at it's basest levels?

It seems to me that in 90pct of the BDSM relationships that I've witnessed in my life, everything was foreplay to actual sex. Even if it was as simple as fetching coffee or changing the TV Channel, the very idea of the dominant having that kind of control of the submissive - to tell her what to do, when to do it, and how fast - was completely sexually charged for both people. The rush of dominance or submission seems to go straight to the crotch, even if you know you're not going to get to actually have a release for hours, days or weeks.

For people who only play with BDSM in a sexual arena - meaning in the bedroom, or as direct foreplay (spankings, whippings, etc etc), this is obviously true

But what about people who don't? And who carry it through each portion of their lives: Family, friends, work, home, health. How much of that is actually sexual and how much of it is just a bigger piece of who they are, and what makes them feel whole and alive?

We do refer to BDSM as an alternative sexuality. Does that mean it's all about the sex?

No, I don't believe that. I know for myself personally it's not, although that is a big chunk of it.

(continued)

Control #3

So when you control someone in a BDSM sense of the word (I wish I could quit using my little disclaimers. Maybe I will and just start freaking people out:P), how far do you like that take that?

I've basically seen three different levels of control/domination.

There's total TPE, where a submissive gives up all control except for the right and means to walk away. (And I'm sorry, I'm not one of these people that believe you can *ever* give up that right.)

There's a middle range, where a submissive gives up a great deal of control in her life, but maintains control over aspects like her family and career.

And then there's the final frontier: Situational control - mostly sexual.

I'm not the type of person who would belittle or degrade another who falls into any of these categories. I'm not a believe in "My d/s is better than your d/s!" and I don't think there's such a thing as a real or a true dominant or submissive. We're not following any rules handed down to us by BDSM gods for goodness sake. We're doing what feels right to us in individual relationships, and unless a person is in legal or moral danger, we truly do not have a right to judge anyone else's relationships. (sorry, had to say that. Seen too much of that lately)

I've been in all three types of relationships over the past several years. They all have their advantages and disadvantages, and they all suited me just fine at the time I was in them. I am a person who wants control over her life insofar as my family and career are concerned. Those things are vitally important to me, and unless I found someone who took that control in a supportive way, I'd want none of it anymore. There is a difference between actually enforcing control, and simply saying that you have it. /shrug. All relationships are different; all people in those relationships are as they are. I couldn't give myself over to someone who'd risk my career or my family to simply get them off, meaning, I might again step into a TPE relationship one day, after a long period of getting to know the dominant and how he works.

While I enjoy being controlled sexually (enjoy? hm. I know there's a better word than that....crave maybe :P), typically I'd want more than that. Even if it were all foreplay, I like to have my d/s out of the bedroom as well.

So, I guess for me, the middle option at this point in my life is what I'd look for, when I start looking for a one-on-one d/s relationship.

Now then. I'm almost done here :P Just one more.

(continued)

Control #4

I can be very strong-willed when something is important to me. I can also be very strong-willed when I feel threatened. And, as I've said in the past, sometimes, the struggle is part of the fun /wink.

My sexuality is very important to me. It's something that I have come to feed and treasure over the years. It's provided me with spending cash through my writing, enjoyment, new experiences and the opportunity to meet people I may not otherwise have had the joy of having in my life. This is not to say that it hasn't gotten me in trouble a time or two *chuckle*, because it has. I used to make lousy choices with men, sometimes I still do. But learning some self-control over the last several years has defintely helped there.

So when I walk into a d/s situation and I agree to give up my control over my sexuality for -- however long -- it's important to me. And it's absolutely one of my favorite things to do.

Oh, I will cuss you if you make me hold off before cumming. And if you make me beg, I will get flustered. And if you refuse to allow me to cum I will call you horrible names and continue to beg until you relent.

But don't take that wrong. That doesn't mean I don't like those things *laughs*

It's not all about that. It's also about being a complete pleasure object. Take what you want from me, show me what makes you get off, push me a little further than I'm comfortable to make yourself happy. If I whisper to you hotly "take what you want..." you damn well better know that I mean it, and I have given that piece of myself to you completely. Don't hold back now.... you have it all in the palm of your hand....

Or, just leave me laying on the floor watching TV and go play computer games :P

Either way, it's yours to use or not use.

Way back in Wyoming 12 years ago, when I had first moved in with C (the first time), we went to the grocery store, and on the way back, he told me to unbutton my blouse and pull it apart. No one had ever asked me to do anything like that before, and even as I undid the buttons, I was scared shitless that someone would see in the Cheyenne early twilight and point to me and yell "Slut!" (I had at that point not owned my sexuality yet :P). But I did it, because he asked (yes, he actually did say please but his tone of voice wasn't very sweet...). I remember that that one thing - that thing that made my cheeks burn like I'd fallen asleep on a griddle - also sent some huge waves of wetness to the nether regions *grin*. He also made me walk into the apartment like that, carrying the bag and my purse down at my sides as to not cover up. After we got inside, he immediately took a minute to gauge the reaction (in wetness levels :P) and stored that information away for future reference. Then he went on, putting groceries away and flipped on the TV.

That was where I first started to learn the true difference between sex and sexuality, want and need, control....and the lack thereof.

And where I really started to fall hard for this entire thing.

I haven't stopped falling since. Got a net? :)

Give me more than I can stand.

Something else I love is music. My tastes are ecclectic, and I listen to a huge variety of mostly rock and roll from all eras. At 5pm typically there are more commercials than tunes on the radio, so I reach into the CD folder and grab whats handy. Yesterday on the way home, I had Matchbox 20's Mad Season in.

I like this whole CD. "Rest Stop" is a unique tune that I really like. But what was playing when I started thinking about writing this was "Bent". I tend to sing in the car if I'm alone. Loudly. Though, luckily, I'm on key :P Anyway, I'm jamming along, trying to navigate through the morons on I-90 (have I mentioned that I hate traffic? I do.) And one line of this song made me stop singing, and start the song over. I have always liked this tune. But for some reason, the lyrics hit me like a ton of leather last night.

If I need some of your love again
Give me more than I can stand

No, this song has nothing to do with BDSM, but the 2nd line there made me grin like a cat and start writing in my head. See? Words. So simple. So inspiring~

You will have an idea in your head of how much (whatever) I can take. I will have this idea, too, even though our ideas may not match, or even be close. Will you stop there? Will you look me in the eye and think I've had enough? Or will you stop when you've had enough, my limit be damned?

I love being pushed. Call it a sickness, or whatever you like, but I love the feeling of steamrolling over the top of a pain/mental limt that I was sure was solid. I may not like it the moment it happens, but I can assure you - if it doesn't cross my gross-out/moral line, I will thank you for it later. I am one of those people who are continually exploring the dark, dank parts of myself that never get to see the light of day. Pushing me over a "line" lets me do that - safely, and with encouragement.

I've said many times that I've been doing this for a long time. A lot of the dominants I'm running into on boards, etc now are newer to the scene. They don't know their limits yet, but they're erring on the side of caution (as is safe to do .. but frustrating for someone who knows that there is so much more in there to come out). I even see some of the older school type dominants looking just for people who are new to the scene - to train in their image or to teach. (I am making a few generalizations here. I don't do it often, so I am allowed)

So, what'a a girl to do? Take one of these newer doms by the hand and encourage them to release their inner demon? Or pretend to be less of what I am to attract one of the ones that's looking for a newbie?

If I had to choose, I'd take the first option. Pretending to be something I'm not to get something I need outside of a roleplay scenario isn't my idea of fun. I said when I first opened myself back up to this that the last thing I wanted to do was "teach" someone how to dominate me, but as I explore these feelings that have been pent up for 2 years inside me, I realize that maybe that's exactly what I should do. We'll see what happens with that.

Until then, I'll keep looking for -- more than I can stand.

Subtle

Now, if you've been reading here for awhile, you know I'm a writer *grin*. I'm also a voracious reader. I love words, period. I love to use them, to find new ones, to make them up sometimes.... I guess you could call me a communication whore /grin

Having said that, sometimes, it's not the words themselves that get me off. It's how they're said. It's how things are worded. It's the use of a word in a completely new context, or at a time when I'm not expecting it....

Picture a normal conversation between people. How was your day? Isnt this weather nice? Be a good little cunt and fetch me a drink, would you?

/heartflutter

I've said many times, in many ways, that I like surprises. That right there is my kinda surprise. Yummy~

Some people will say - why speak when a physical action is so much faster and easier. And I can see that sometimes, and I do enjoy it. But a growled sentence, a word spoken -- these aim right to the heart of it for me.

It's so subtle, or at least it can be. And yet, it will rip me from whatever mindspace I'm currently occupying and put me in quite another. And that right there is the key for me. I absolutely adore someone who can make that happen to me. They are few and far between unfortunately. But that's my ideal /wink. If you can make me wet and panting with one sentence, you're in the door~ What you do once you're in there is completely up to you /grin

body play/sex play/mind play

Toys are nice. Toys are fun. Toys have a million and one uses in the BDSM arena. I have quite a collection of them myself and I must save I have at one time or another enjoyed have all of them used on me (except a few, which I’ve used on others).

But when you get right down to it. The very bottom of the desire. What is it for you?

Is it play? Spanking, paddling, flogging, whipping, clamps and cuffs and fun stuff?

Is it sex? Is this all about getting off for you?

Or is it all in your mind?

Or, is it all of them sometimes, and none of them others?

Four choices. Mine is, of course, choice #4.

So much of this is in my head.

It’s the "idea" and the "mental/emotional rush" of watching a man take off his belt and come at you, more than the feel of the belt itself.

It’s the "threat" of impending doom, more than the doom itself.

It’s the "intent" of his chosen words, more so than "will he or won’t he?"

With that – I get the play end (toys or no toys), I get the sex end (well, you know what that does to me, I’ve said it in here often enough) and I get the mental/emotional rush that turns quite physical for me.

Can I separate them? Sure I can.

I have a few favorite tops spread out around the country for that I’d bottom to in a heartbeat, without one ounce of domination or sex – simply because they are my friends, and I love their play style so much.

Men of a dominant persuasion – who are that, without having to try to *be that, can easily slide me right into a submissive headspace twelve feet deep without ever touching me.

And something as simple as holding my arms above my head while fucking me is incredibly sexy and dominant and..and...(I'm still at work, why am I still writing…)

And what if you had to choose one above all the others…, which would you, choose?

There really isn’t any question for me there. Mental.

I love play. And god knows, I love sex. But for me, mental and emotional domination are sexual, even without actual penetration. So that’s the road I’d travel, if I had to choose.

Thank goodness I don’t /wink.

Fear, In Two Parts~

Fear is a fun toy. I think every dominant should have it in their arsenal *grin.

There are actually chemical reasons that fear makes you hot. I don’t know what they are, but if you’re interested, you can google it *chuckle. Has something to do with adrenaline and endorphins.

But more than that, for me, it’s all mental.

I tend to be a person who thinks ahead. I anticipate everything. Even before something happens, I have a "disaster recovery plan” (yes, yes, geek speak bite me) in place, and am ready to go on the offensive or defensive, depending on the scenario. If you’re thinking that having these plans in place for every little thing must take up a lot of brain-room, you are correct. They do. And they do not always work, and they are not always right, and sometimes, they end up causing more problems than they’re worth – because if I’d have had to sit and think about how to react, more information may have come to light and I wouldn’t have handled things the same way.

But that’s really not the point. The point is that I anticipate everything.

Thing is, when you’re bound and blindfolded, you can anticipate all you want, but it means jack shit. When you don’t know where he is in the room – what he’s doing – you can’t see his eyes – he’s not talking – you can’t Feel him near you – you can’t hear him breathing… you don’t know what’s coming. Maybe pleasure. Maybe pain. Maybe words. You just don’t know. And you cannot possibly predict an outcome. You cannot anticipate. You don’t know rather to be breathlessly waiting for a caress or in fear of whatever implement he may be holding, or..or…ahhhh. And it is fear for me. Why? Because I simply do not know what to do.

I’ve talked before about how bondage allows me to let go. This is the same, only more so.

Fear, it is said, is a great motivator. Fear will shut me up, send the brat packing, put me in wholly submissive state of mind. So if that’s the objective you have set, there’s a way to get me there.

That’s not all there is about fear. There’s much more. I have been know, occasionally, to play on the “edge”. Will he cross a line? Will he do any of those things that he’s threatened to do? Will he push me past something that was formerly a wall and turns to parchment paper at his command?

And if he does, will I rejoice or will I fall apart?

I’m not into blood play. I’ve gotten single-tail cuts and the like – none of them on purpose – and that’s okay. But intentional blood-letting has never held any particular attraction for me.

But feeling the edge of a knife across your skin when you are powerless to do anything about it – no matter how much you trust someone, deep in your heart you know that he could do anything he liked at that time. And even though you trust him, a part of you is in fear…

Having someone come up behind you, when you aren’t expecting them…grabbing your hair to hold you still and putting a hand over your mouth….

This is the other part of fear. Will he? Won’t he? Who is he? How many people are really in the room? Who is really touching you?

Yea.. I’m writing this at work and I’m going to stop there before I come unhinged /wink.

I am not an emotional masochist.

Okay, so it's been 4 days (or so) since my last post (confession).

/eye

Had a stupid, meaningless drama-fest in my life this week. Mostly over now, except that the person who started it still thinks it's better to be RIGHT than smart, but hey. Different strokes and all that. Not my kink, but then again, I try really hard to not be an emotional masochist.

Had a good Easter with my folks and my niece. Work is kicking my ass right now, but at least I'm getting out of there on time and getting my evenings free again. Sent a note to the submarine this week and told the Sailor that I'd prefer to do a mediator instead of paying for 2 separate attorneys. Frankly, I've spent more than enough money on that relationship and don't really want to jack up my credit cards just so we can be done with this. Also told him that I want my maiden name back. We'll see how that goes over *snort*.

Have had a couple of interesting conversations with a gent from EQ about BDSM and such. (I swear I pull them out of the woodwork) but since I know he reads here, I won't discuss them :P Suffice it to say that - now that the drama is passed, I can get back to where I was headed last week.... more writing!

So, expect it. Soon.

Expect it

No matter how hard you try to convey a message, you're always going to be misunderstood by a few.

Expect it, *snicker* quietly, and move on.

No matter how much your kink means to you, it's going to be mean jack shit to someone else.

Expect it, nod silently, and move on.

No matter how you meant to say what you said, you're going to come off hostile to someone.

Expect it, smile, and move on.

No matter how sweet and innocent someone appears to be, realize that there's a bitch, a bastard or a shitheel in there who peeks out from time to time.

Expect it, let it pass, and move on.

My views, my expressions, my writing is for me. If it helps people get to know me? Great! If it inspires other folks to think? Awesome. If it pisses you off...well...the door is over there --~~

Nasty emails about my chosen topics will gain you nothing but wasted time on your part, and a good chuckle on mine because -- I did what? *made ya think, made ya think*

No fluffy, cuddly bullshit. Ever.

Bash kinks elsewhere besides my inbox kkthx~

A peg or two

A Peg or Two

I’ve had a bdsm website that I’ve had up and maintained for over 10 years (about 7 at it’s current web address). In those years, I’ve asked and answered a lot of questions, and discussed some of what it is we do til I’m blue in the face.

I tend to be a realist. Fluffy, cuddly rhetoric tends to annoy me when it’s flounced around like a bunny rabbit at Easter (ooo…did I just do that…yup, I did). Romance has its place – and I’m a dyed-in-the-wool romantic. But there are some things that should not *be* romanticized. There is a big ol’ sign at the start of my webpage that says “No Fluffy Cuddly Bullshit” and I mean it. You can pretty much be as romantic as you want to be. But in my life, it has a time and a place and when I’m being a brat is *not* the time.

When I’m being a brat, whether it’s conscious or subconscious; whether it’s me trying to provoke a dominant into pushing his limits as well as mine; whether it’s me just being my sweet-smart-ass self, that very last thing I want a dominant to do is be cuddly and sweet. If it’s out there, I want the dominant to show me in no uncertain terms that he hasn’t lost control of the situation.

Is that pushing? Is it limiting? Is it SAMming my ass off? Sure, it’s all of those things, but it’s none of them, too. I’m not trying to top from the bottom; I have no intention of winning a war of wills. I don’t *want* to win.

If I win, it’s done, and we have both lost.

I’m a strong-willed woman. One of the things that has always appealed to me about BDSM is the fact that there are times when it is appropriate for me to *not* be that. It is more than an escape; it’s a journey through a part of myself that I am only semi-comfortable with – the part that is allowed to let go.

I don’t hide this part of myself from any dominant I’m trying to get to know. I put it right out there in the open, so that it’s not a big surprise some day to him. My hope is that in my doing so, I’ll get to see some parts of him that he may not bring out and parade around in front of others.

I doubt that this is why *everyone* who acts a brat does it. We all have our reasons for pushing the buttons on the dominant’s control panel. But I like people to realize that there *is* a reason – at least for me. It is serving some kind of purpose, and it’s not just me bratting (yes, I do tend to use that word as a verb. Send the grammar police my way, especially if they have handcuffs) for the sake of bratting.

If you want it, take it. Let the brat be damned.

But she won’t be damned. She’ll be damn pleased with herself and probably very wet.

So, yes. Please. Knock me down a peg or two, if you have it in you, and it gets you off.

If not? Well, I’m sure there’s a quiet submissive kneeling in a corner just waiting for your call.

Choke, Slobber, Slurp, Gag, Cry.

As a young, Midwest girl growing up in a small town, many ideas were placed into my head. Catholicism placed more, but I’ve gotten rid of most of those (Recovering Catholic, 17 years. “Hi, my name is Sola, and I…”)

Our first sexual experiences in this small town were so quiet. Even if you were on a gravel road at 3am, you still felt the undeniable urge to do everything quietly – even unzipping your Calvin’s. (Yes, I am aging myself. /shrug. Who thought I’d live to be this old?).

I’ve grown out of some of that. I’ve left most all of the “Good girls don’t do that…” in a waft of gravel dust. But there are a few things that I can’t seem to get over.

In my Midwest girl mind, giving head to a man is supposed to be a quiet affair. I mean, c’mon. You don’t really want your parents to hear you out in the yard; for the people in the house you parked in front of to suddenly turn down the TV and say “What’s that slurping sound?”; for your friend in the front seat, making out with her boyfriend, to hear you slobbering all over yours in the backseat. Shhhh…be vewy, vewy qwiet. We’re trying to be invisible here…

My last two exes were not big on having their cocks sucked. The first one, M, actually seemed to resist it, and in 4 years, he only came in my mouth once. The last one, C, was happy to trade “no oral for no oral” as he didn’t enjoy eating pussy, and frankly, I can live without being eaten. That was all okay with me, sometimes. I do enjoy having a cock in my mouth, but it’s not a “make or break” deal with me.

I’ve read a ton of profiles on Alt. And a ton of blogs. And one common theme amongst the gentlemen of the dom variety seems to be how they like to make a woman choke, slobber, slurp, gag, release tears (running mascara is a very popular theme) with cocksucking.

Don’t misunderstand. I’m far from naïve. And I’m a quiet student of all things sexual. I don’t have a problem with this. But my nature is to be inquisitive, and I’m undeniably curious here.

So gentlemen, start your engines. And tell me what the fuss is about with the choking and the slobbering and the slurping and the…well, you get the picture. Ladies, too, if you have some insight to share.

Discovering the Kinky Ones

About six months ago, I had a male dominant-type-person-friend of mine say to me “Someone needs to take you down a peg or two, missy.”

At the time, I had no idea he had his own little spanking/bondage fantasies, but when someone says something like that to me, you gotta start poking til you get a response.

Don’t you? Okay, well, *I* do.

I love finding kinky people in places you don’t expect to find them.

Anyway. I got to thinking about what he said the other day (actually, the day he said it, I wrote him a fantasy involving that phrase, but we’ll save that for another day) and about how my relationship with him changed in that blink of an eye.

I’m not much for honorifics, unless a person is known to me well, and has earned being called “Sir” or “Ma’am”. That didn’t change with him, but I did stop calling him “darlin” and “sweets” and started calling him by his first name. Weird.

I also stopped teasing him every time an opportunity arose. Not completely, of course. I am – me - after all. But not nearly as much as I had been.

Our talks after that became a little more sexual than they had been, probably because he finally found someone he could discuss these fantasies with safely and not be frightened of someone pointing and yelling “FREAK!” at him. We started talking about our past histories, shared experiences, differing ones.

I kept looking for a label to put on it, and today I found one.

We have become more intimate with each other. Oh, not physically. He’s like 1300 miles away in a place I have no reason to visit. But he now knows things about me that few other people know. And I know things of his past that no one else in the game we share (where we met and still play) together know. It took a silly friendship into a much more serious one.

That’s not something you’ll ever hear me complain about. A girl needs good friends /wink.

Shut up and beat me.

The last two days have been extremely emotionally draining, and what I think I’ll do is go crawl into bed and pull the covers up over my head.

What I’d like, though, is a beating.

Pain makes me focus on pain. All that other bullshit goes out the window. No ex’s, no work, no parental pressure. Just OW dammit OW dammit OW! And when it’s done, it takes the other stuff a long time to come back in. When it’s over, I can collapse into a nice little heap of exhausted mush and sleep it all off.

Oh there are other things that work as well. I could read or watch TV or focus my attention on a project. These things will also shove my last two exes out of my head and get me back to where I need to be. I could get drunk, something I rarely do (once a year maybe), or take a Xanax (thank you, two panic attacks 8 years ago that gives me a prescription to this day. I take maybe 2 a year).

But a beating is more fun :P

I told the ex last night on the phone that I was making my way back into the scene. He says “good for you!” Not like I needed his blessing, but at least I know I’m not going to take any shit from him about it.

Still haven’t found any dominants locally that I’m interested in (locally being less than 20 miles away). Maybe I’ll have to find me a vanilla boy and introduce him to “How Much Fun is it to Beat Sola’s Inner Brat.” It wouldn’t be all that I want, but it would be a release until I find what I want.

Ms Savanna has me thinking again, about all that relationship stuff and what makes a good D/s connection between two people. Well, I was thinking about it. Until I had to deal with the ex before the ex today, and his pompous, arrogant email about HIS daughter’s wedding (which I was invited to and had fully intended to fly to CA to attend until I got a whiff of his new demeanor.). Right now all I’m thinking about is a place where both of my exes can go bite themselves and I can relax. I can think of a lot of places that could happen. Unfortunately, none of them are within reach /wink.

Boy, I had a point when I started this, and it just kinda drifted off.

If you see it, will you send it back?

You Can Leave Your Hat On...no, please do~

I used to have a cowboy fetish. I think I still might. But one thing is for certain.

I love hats. On men. On me. On other women. Soooo Sexy.

One blessing about Madison so far has been that we have a couple of really good radio stations here. One plays real Classic Rock (not that shit that passes for classic rock on the left and right coasts). Today, it was 70 degrees. I opened the sun roof on my way to lunch. And they started playing my song…

Baby take off your coat
real slow
and take off your shoes
I'll take your shoes
Baby take off your dress
yes yes yes
You can leave your hat on
You can leave your hat on
You can leave your hat on

Joe Cocker has such an awesome voice *Grin*

My ex, M, used to wear leather fedoras. He had a black one, and a brown one, and wore them nearly every day to work. I loved those hats. The look of them, the smell of them…my god they nearly gave me fits sometimes. The first time he came to see me in Wyoming, he flew into Colorado Springs and I went to pick him up. I saw him from the back, leather sports coat (black mmmm), and that hat…. I went up and touched his shoulder. He stood stock still, and let out a deep breath, and I could *feel* his smile as he took off the hat and turned around to kiss me. I wore that hat a lot that weekend, sometimes, with nothing else~

A man in a hat nearly drives me to the brink (no, baseball caps do not count). I’m sure there’s a good reason for this – somewhere.

Frankly, I don’t care what it is.

You give me a reason to live
You give me a reason to live
You give me a reason to live
You give me a reason to live

I wear hats myself too. I have a Stetson, a Riata, a few dress hats. There is just something extra with a hat that you don’t get without one.

Gimme a strong, sure dominant in a hat and I’ll be catatonic for a week /wink.

How do you divorce your best friend?

So, as I mentioned, about a month ago, I finally made the decision to tell the ex to file papers. Problem is, he's on a submarine, and hard to catch at home.

Well, he caught me today.

I was much more calm telling him than I was when I wrote it out a month ago. That was good. It was a good conversation more or less.

He didn't understand why I was still sad, after all this time. I explained:

I'm sad because I'm divorcing my best friend.

And then I thought about it and the truth of the matter is:

I'm divorcing the angry, selfish man I married. My best friend is still right there, and will be even after the papers are filed.

And then I cried.

*Snickers Quietly*

So, I gave the address of this blog to a friend from EQ last night who seems to have an interest in what it is that we do~

I guess we'll see if he still has it after he's done reading here *snickers quietly*

/waves at the Inky /wink

Choices.

Every day, we make hundreds of choices. Almost none of those choices affect just ourselves; they affect other people in our lives, people we work with, people we live near or with. As a type-a analyst type person, I often put far too much thought and planning into making those choices, and put a lot of un-needed pressure on myself to be sure I’ve done the right thing – every time.

What I would give right now for a couple days – hell, a couple hours – free of making those choices. My mind and soul need a rest.

And how might I accomplish that?

Well, bondage of course! *chuckle* Bondage gives us the illusion that we are done making any choices until we are set free; it lets us react, feel, be without the worry of our hair being perfect (you can’t get to it to fix it anyway), our bills are paid (you should have done that before the rope came out!), the cats are fed (can you ever feed cats enough anyway?). Once you’ve made the decision to let the cuffs go on, and they do – you’re done (let’s hope you thought THAT through, hm?)

My ex was initially into bondage and then decided it was too much work. Before him, my *other* ex wasn’t really into it at all unless he was cuffing me to something in order to whip the hell out of me (who’s complaining about whipping? Not me!). I’ve never really played with someone who enjoyed the bondage itself. And I’d like to. I added a line about it in my profile recently; maybe I’ll get lucky /wink.

Right now, it’s just extremely appealing to me. Rope bondage can be beautiful and effective, but so can a simple set of handcuffs. The setup doesn’t have to be elaborate to be efficient; it’s more about making someone move-proof than artistic sensibility for me, right now at least.

Did I mention that attaching a leash to a hood-ring piercing gets someone’s attention really quickly? :P

"The Ad"

The Ad (Maybe Part 1)
© 2003, KA

“How old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
He looked at her, a disbelieving scowl on his face.
She silently reached into her wallet and produced her driver’s license.
“Your ad said you were twenty-one.”
“Would you be here if I’d have said eighteen?”
“No.” he answered honestly.
“Well.”

The waiter delivered his coffee and her diet coke. She looked at him warily, waiting for him to toss a twenty on the table and leave.
He didn’t. Stirring his coffee thoughtfully, he asked “What are you looking for?”
“My ad was pretty specific.”
“We’ve already determined that at least part of your ad was bullshit. I want to know how much of the rest of it is true.”
“All of it.”
“All of it, really?” He looked at her intently over his glasses. “So, when you said you had a few years of experience with this, you were being honest?”
His eyes were intense. She found herself looking down at the white table cloth to escape them. “More or less.”
“I don’t like half-answers.” He set his spoon down on his saucer. “I certainly don’t like dishonesty.” She saw him lean forward, to pull out his wallet, and reached for his hand.
“Wait.”
“For?” He looked up at her, not moving.
“I’ll answer.”
He leaned back a little in his chair, and crossed his arms over his chest.
“My last boyfriend… was older. A lot older.”
“And?”
She huffed. “I wasn’t done.” She sipped her diet coke. “We were together for a year. Little more. He was almost thirty when we broke up.”
He tapped his fingers on his arm, staring at her. An intimidating move. A planned one.
“After we’d been together awhile, I jokingly called him “Daddy” one night. He said that if he were really my daddy, he’d have paddled my ass for my bratty behavior by now, and I told him to go for it.” She shrugged, still not looking at him. “It started there.”
“What was a seventeen year old doing dating a thirty year old?” he asked, his voice full of disapproval.
“I met him at a party. We liked each other.”
“Did you lie to him about your age, too?”
Her lips curled up into a pout. “Yes, at first. I told him before we slept together, though. I thought that was only fair.”
“What did he say to you?”
“He was angry at first, but he got over it.” She sipped at her coke again, crossing her legs under the table.
He was quiet for awhile. “You’re used to getting your own way a lot, aren’t you?” he asked finally.
“Yea, I guess I am.”
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
“The word is Yes, not Yea.”
“Okay.” She felt a slow heat crawl into her cheeks.
He smiled slightly. “Why did you break up with your boyfriend?”
“He broke up with me, actually. Said I needed to go out and experience some other things before I could make a commitment to him.” The pout returned.
“How long ago?”
“Couple months.”
“Two? Three?”
“Three.”
“Then say that. How long ago did you break up?”
“Three months ago.” She said, the color growing deeper in her face.
“Much better. Good girl.”
Her stomach flipped.
His smile grew. “Back to my original question, and I’d appreciate an answer this time. What are you looking for?”
“I’m looking for Daddy.” She said, in a small voice. She opened her green eyes and looked at him across the table.
“Specifics.”
She thought for a moment. “Correction, discipline, attention, affection…”
“Affection?”
She nodded. “I like to sit on Daddy’s lap and cuddle.”
“How much affection?”
“I like a lot of affection. Especially after I’ve been punished…”
He put one hand down on the table, and slid it over to hers, taking her fingers into his hand. “Are you being intentionally evasive?”
She looked up at him, her eyes wide with an innocence that didn’t look contrived. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Then I’ll tell you what I mean.” He said patiently. “Do you want to…” he squeezed her fingers hard. “… fuck Daddy?”
She let out a noise that sounded like an ‘eeep’ and tried to pull her hand away. When his fingers didn’t budge, she answered. “I do whatever Daddy tells me to do.”
He held her fingers and her gaze for a moment longer, and then let go. A tense silence hung between them before he finally spoke. “Do you know how old I am?”
“The ad said thirty-five.”
“That’s correct. Daddies are honest in their ads. Evidently, little girls are not always so honest.”
She blushed.
“How old are you?”
“I told you, eighteen.”
He sighed. “Let me ask again. How old are you, little girl?”
She understood then what he wanted. “I’m fourteen.”
“And what do you like to do?”
“I collect teddy bears and I like to read Nancy Drew books.”
“Are you a good girl?”
She nodded emphatically. “I try to be good all the time.”
“But sometimes you aren’t?”
She scowled. “No, sometimes I mess up.”
“And Daddy punishes you then.”
“Yes.”
“Do you like Daddy to punish you?” His voice had grown low and soft. They weren’t sitting close to anyone, and the waiter hadn’t been back in the twenty minutes since he brought the drinks. He was trying to cast a protective bubble around them, so that she’d answer his questions without feeling afraid.
“No.” she screwed up her face again. “I try real hard to be good.”
“You don’t like how a spanking from Daddy feels?” he asked.
“Noooo. Spankings hurt!”
He leaned back in his chair again. “Do you miss having a daddy, little girl?” he asked, softly.
She nodded, and bit her bottom lip gently. He looked at her face for any signs of contrived behavior, but saw – and felt none. He reached across the table and took her hand gently in his.
“I want you to do something for me. Will you do it?”
She nodded again.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” He said tenderly.
She looked up at him.
“Much better. I want you to go home tonight and write me a letter. Can you do that?”
“Yes.”
“I want you to write me a letter telling me about what you and your last Daddy did, and about what you want your new Daddy to do with you. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes.”
“Good girl. I’ll expect it in my email in the morning.” He took a long sip of his coffee, and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. “I have to go back to work now. Will you be a good girl for the rest of the day?”
The urge to call him Daddy was overwhelming, but he hadn’t told her that was okay yet. “I will be good.”
“Good.” He stood up, and threw some bills on the table. “You finish your soda and get back to school.” He leaned down, gently kissing her cheek, and allowing her smell to permeate his senses. She was wet. He could almost taste it in the air around her.
“I will. Thank you… Sir.” She said quietly.
The first thing I have to do, he thought to himself as he opened his car door, is punish her for lying about her age…

Once upon a Time...

I have a friend in California, Ms M. I adore this woman.

I was out and about in the lifestyle long before I met her - that's actually how I met her. For years, she's been a professional dominatrix as well as a lifestyle one.

One night, when my ex from CA (not to be confused with my current ex) and I were over visiting MS M and her boy, the subject came up of her profressional life, and how sometimes it paid to have a "partner in crime" for such outings. She asked if I was interested.

Now, I had topped before, I'd even dommed a little (the ex from CA was a notorious switch), and as I said, I adore Ms M as a friend and person. So I agreed to think about it. The Ex from CA (good lord, that's unwieldy to type - let's call him M.) found the entire idea hot as hell and encouraged me to do it. And so I did.

I went on two appointments with her, but even before I did that, we spent an entire evening in a friend's dungeon, taking pictures for DDI. How fun is that? Dress up in nasty fetish or dom-like clothes and have an adorable sub-man take your picture? That night was amazing. (I still have the picture of M sucking on her on strap-on. I kept it just because after he was such a shit to me, that's how I wanted to remember him.)

The two appointments were okay. I mean, I guess maybe the idea of Domming for Dollars doesn't really appeal to me at a base level because if I'm going to dominate someone, I want to follow my own script, not theirs. This is not to say it wasn't fun - nor is it to say the cash didn't come in handy, but it just wasn't me, so after trying it twice, I graciously let myself off the hook and went back to playing without that added bonus of dollars in my wallet.

Rant-o-matic

We're all selfish. We're all judgemental. We're all a myriad of things that we point a finger at someone else and call "foul!"

There's no reason to be high and mighty. No reason to pretend to be shocked or even stunned at someone else's behavior.

We all do it.

For the love of the Goddess, please. Could we all take a moment, step back and look at our own behavior before we go rushing to point our slightly crooked fingers at someone else?

If your life hasn't gone the way you wanted it to, then please. Take a moment to adjust and then quietly move on. Do you have to drag half the world into your soap operas?

Look to yourself before you start looking to others. Heal yourself. Help yourself. Be yourself.

And leave the drama to the Sopranos. They do it best.

Okay. Rant over. Sweetness and light? Well, maybe salt and sundown....

The geek life

Sometimes, I love my geek life. Geek for money during the day, geek for fun at night...

And other times, it makes me want to stick an abacus in my eye

Feeling Open

...being open to new ideas.

Mmmm...I love a good clarity moment.

See,last year at this time, I was a walking disaster area with my weight out of control and my struggling to see if my marriage wasn't worth saving (apparently, it wasn't). I couldn't write (which is worse than no sex for me - almost). I couldn't sleep. I was struggling with some big personal issues that needed a good single-tailing.

And they got it. Believe me.

And now that that's all over and done with by 3 months or more (well, okay, most of it is - I'm still working on my weight but that's a process -- 84 pounds off since then, still going strong), it's time for the old Sola to make yet another step into the here and now.

So, I have this friend, see. And he lives a long way from me, and is always desperately trying to get a picture of my tits. *snicker*. I'm not the kind of person who takes those pictures of myself - it's never felt right to do so, and it just feels - weird. Not bad - just weird.

But tonight, I took some *grin*

Oh, not full on porn pictures. No, I'm a little more creative than that. But more than cleavage and a little more risque than I can say I've ever taken of myself. (he actually got partial nipple!)

And I took some straighter ones, too for the profiles. I take new ones every month, as I look different and feel better every month.

He was blown away that I finally did it. And I have to say, so was I.

I gotta say, clarity and opening yourself up to new things is a good thing ~

Feeling Open

...being open to new ideas.

Mmmm...I love a good clarity moment.

See,last year at this time, I was a walking disaster area with my weight out of control and my struggling to see if my marriage wasn't worth saving (apparently, it wasn't). I couldn't write (which is worse than no sex for me - almost). I couldn't sleep. I was struggling with some big personal issues that needed a good single-tailing.

And they got it. Believe me.

And now that that's all over and done with by 3 months or more (well, okay, most of it is - I'm still working on my weight but that's a process -- 84 pounds off since then, still going strong), it's time for the old Sola to make yet another step into the here and now.

So, I have this friend, see. And he lives a long way from me, and is always desperately trying to get a picture of my tits. *snicker*. I'm not the kind of person who takes those pictures of myself - it's never felt right to do so, and it just feels - weird. Not bad - just weird.

But tonight, I took some *grin*

Oh, not full on porn pictures. No, I'm a little more creative than that. But more than cleavage and a little more risque than I can say I've ever taken of myself. (he actually got partial nipple!)

And I took some straighter ones, too for the profiles. I take new ones every month, as I look different and feel better every month.

He was blown away that I finally did it. And I have to say, so was I.

I gotta say, clarity and opening yourself up to new things is a good thing ~

Flirt Alert

I have apparently turned into a flirt.

Who, me? What? Really?

At least that's what I got told on EQ last night by a friend of mine who said something to the effect of "Who let you out of your cage?" lol

I do find myself being much more outgoing and smiling at people more. Maybe I am being a little more flirtacious than people who've known me for years have known me to be. It's not a bad thing (and no one told me it was). It's me, finally becoming comfortable in my own skin.

It's only getting better from here on out, because it's all I'll allow.

Look out people (I am an equal opportunity flirt).

Doors lead to...

Heavy door (I knew it would be)
Opening into a quiet, dark entryway (I knew it would be, too)
I can’t even hear a clock ticking it’s so quiet.
He said wait.
So here, I’ll wait.

It only takes him two steps (he was close, and I didn’t know it)
To get to me, one hand (warm hand, long fingers)
To wrap around my face, and cover my mouth
The other entwining itself in long blonde hair
Pulling and pushing my head backwards at the same time, he says.

“Hello, whore.”

Knowing

I’ve taken this weekend to get my thoughts in order, more or less. When I first put up profiles on here and AFF, I had a different sort of thing in mind for myself, but after having chatted with some very interesting people from both sites, I’m starting to re-evaluate what I want and need in my life.

I find myself responding less and less on AFF. I have met some wonderful people there, and will continue to participate in the local groups and hang out with friends I have made (which is what I really wanted from there, anyway). But frankly, a vanilla lover holds little interest for me now. Before I dove headlong back into BDSM, it did, but now. Eh.

It’s good to know what you want, though /wink. Even wanting something you know you’re going to hate, and accepting both ends of that, is helpful. The writing I’ve done on here in the last few days has greatly helped. Just getting the thoughts on paper (errr…screen) helps. Seeing things in black and white makes it much easier to navigate the shades of grey.

I’d love it if I could find a munch group here in Madison, but as of yet, I haven’t. I know there is a club here – to play – but a single woman going to a club like that, not knowing anyone – it’s just not my idea of a good time, ya know? Munches were the way to go on the west coast, and I seriously enjoyed the time I spent organizing them and attending them out there. I may have to do something like that here if I can’t find one soon. I know there are some in Milwaukee, and it’s not that far of a drive. But I’d prefer local for stuff like that.

Beholden

In my last post, I made mention that life was different for me in California. I lived alone, had no rules, no one to answer to but myself.

What I didn’t say then, but will say now, is that the reason I didn’t stay with that kind of life is because that’s not what I want.

I want to be held responsible for my actions. I want to be beholden to someone for what I do. Not all the time, and not a micro-manager, but someone who will hold me accountable for being a good girl.

I have always been the stand-up one. The one who made sure everything got done, bills paid, laundry put away, birthday cards sent, phone calls made to people that needed to be called. I have always been the one who took responsibility for everything. In those moments/weeks/months/years that I had a dominant that put all of that stuff in my hands, and then held me accountable to doing it, it seemed to make doing it less of a chore, and more of a joy. I still do all those things – I have to, there’s no one else to do it lol. But doing them for myself is a chore. Not one I mind so much, but a chore nonetheless.

I explain my submission sometimes by saying that in a world where I am responsible to everyone and for everything, it’s nice to set aside a block of time where I am only responsible to one person and myself. It’s nice to just let everything else go. Be responsible to feel, to act, to be only.

Years ago, I tried to analyze that (as I try to analyze every damn thing in my life) but I gave up. It doesn’t matter why I want it. It’s not a psychosis for fucks sake, It’s not a mental illness, it’s just who I am, what makes me happy and comfortable, and what I want in my life.

Now, being able to have that without having a full-blown romantic relationship with someone – I dunno. I know it’s possible. I mentioned my friend P from California. Her Master was gay. Old guard leather gay, from San Francisco. There was no romantic relationship there. She served, he taught her how, he imposed, she bowed. So I know it’s possible. But it just seems very rare these days.

So, as I said yesterday, maybe what I’m looking for isn’t what I’m going to find, and I should revisit my list.

But I can hope, right?

The Cane Queen

When I lived out on the left coast many moons ago, life was much different. I had broken up with a dominant, was living in my own place, and enjoying my single life greatly. I had no rules, only my own. I attended parties up in San Jose and San Francisco. I played with who I wanted to play with, and I started topping girls at an unusually quick pace *grin*.

I had one particular bottom out there who I’ll call P. P was a cane slut. Her gay Master showed me a few cane tricks, and I began topping P. in earnest any time she and I went to a party together. I started topping other girls with canes. I quickly became addicted to the squeals of glee, and I earned the title of “Cane Queen”. I have several canes of my own in the closet, in addition to a huge bag of other toys that are sadly in need of use.

I was relating this story to a dominant on the phone one night, when he asked me how I felt about the cane being used on me. I had to answer him truthfully, “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had one used on me.” *gulp*

Yea, I knew what was coming next. So do you, don’t you?

He made mention of the fact, with a slight hint of amusement in his voice, that “we’d” have to remedy that. And then proceeded to use the example for punishment.

*gulps more*

You don’t suppose that my lovely, beautiful canes would take any pleasure in hitting their Mistress, do you? (of course they will. They’re fickle little bastards)

It’s not that I’m afraid (ok, maybe a little) of them. It’s just that that’s typically not the kind of pain I can process easily. There’s nowhere to go with that sting that keeps on stinging. As punishment, I’m sure it’s quite effective.

Maybe I’ll burn them before we play *grin*

Submitting to the Muses

I’m just writing like a fiend today. I guess a large part of that is I haven’t had time to write almost all week – not seriously anyway – and my brain has been going a mile a minute.

With each step I take back into the BDSM arena, more and more of what I’ve been missing comes to light. Things I’d forgotten. Things I didn’t even realize that I missed.

The simple act of control: Allowing someone the means to taking what they want from me, how they want it, at their will and whim. Allowing someone to pull my hair back off my shoulders so that they can bite them – allowing someone to pull my hands behind my back to be restrained. Simple things, really. All showing the giving up of control. All things I have desperately missed.

I find myself taking bits and pieces of conversations and mixing them with other conversations and coming up with fantastic ideas for erotic short stories. But I’m not writing any. And that, I have no reason for.

I think I’ll have to remedy that tonight, either with some poetry or a story.

I submit myself to the Muses~ Do with me as you will.

Cry for me bitch~

You want me to what?

Cry.

Oh. Well.

All right. Then make me cry. (and not by telling bad jokes either, please)

Seriously. My ex and I talked about this many times. But for whatever reason, as much as he wanted to do it (or said he did), he never even made the attempt. I dunno. The more I think about it, the more I believe that maybe with me he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

I wish he had. It might have helped us both. But that is neither here nor there any longer.

I have to admit the idea appeals to me for some reason. Maybe it’s because I don’t often cry anymore. Maybe it’s because the thought of someone evoking that kind of emotion from me on purpose is emotionally disturbing. Maybe it’s because…well, maybe it’s just because I haven’t been beaten like that in a long time, and I want it. Maybe it’s because someone “having their way” with me (whatever way that is) while growling “Cry for me, bitch” in my ear makes me want to pass out.

I didn’t even know there was a kink for that until I saw it on the fetish checklist. Must be something added recently, as it wasn’t there a couple years ago.

I personally think that there are men who just enjoy the mascara running down our cheeks, and knowing they evoked it. And there’s nothing wrong with that – not at all. I just think that’s a “makeup” kink *grin*

It’s just one of the things on the “list” that sounds extremely appealing to me, but I haven’t really done (with any purpose) in play. I guess we’ll see what we see.

One or Many

So, I made a comment in a previous post that went something like

“About the three dominants I've been chatting with and how different they all are. And about how nice it would be if I could just say - "I want one dominant" and make it be just that - no big romance relationship - just one dominant that I am responsible to.”

Over the past several days, I’ve given that a lot of thought. And while it would be nice to find one man who can satisfy my need for bondage, discipline, pain, “daddy” and out-and-out rough sex, I think I might be setting my sights a bit high.

In truth, I’ve never juggled more than one dominant at a time, and the idea of it (without the reality of knowing) seems a bit daunting. (As a side note, I’d love to talk to any submissives who have done this – real time, not cyber wise – to hear the perks and pitfalls). The reality is that I’m not currently in the market for a full time thing. Full time being live in, monogamous merging. I have a desire to explore some things, enjoy some things – and those explorations really don’t fit in with a one-on-one full time relationship. I mean, I guess they could with the right person, but I haven’t met a person like that, yet :P And even though my profile pretty clearly states that that’s not what I’m looking for, you’d be surprised at the number of dominants who don’t believe it.

How would I feel if I actually connected with one who wanted me to be submissive only to him? I guess it would depend on him; does he have enough of the above traits I’m looking for that I would be satisfied? Does he have my respect and trust? Do I feel that he would fulfill the things that I want and need in my life? If so, then ya – I might actually consider it. It certainly would make life easier.

Suffer

While I realize this song isn’t about dominance and submission, some of the lyrics reflect how I feel.

Criminal, Fiona Apple
I've done wrong and I want to
Suffer for my sins
I've come to you 'cause I need
Guidance to be true
And I just don't know where I can begin

This is how I feel about punishment.

If I’ve done something wrong, by all means, punish me immediately and let it be over with. I’m not a person who enjoys carrying around bucketfuls of guilt and shame, and I would much rather take the punishment of his choosing and know it was over with, then and there. Life is far too short to spend hours of your time trying to fix a wrong, wishing you had behaved differently, or asking repeatedly for forgiveness.

It’s also how I feel about pain.

“I want to suffer for my sins” conjures up so many frightening and yet breathtakingly arousing pictures. I prefer to take my pain for someone else. I want to suffer for someone who wants me to. No, it’s not a *gift* to them or a selfless act; not at all. I do it for me. It makes me hot to “take it for someone else’s pleasure.” I’m not a masochist. I thought for a long time that I was, but the truth is, there are very few acts of pain that turn me on physically. Oh, I like rough hot nasty mean sex as much as the next person *chuckle* don’t get me wrong. But I’m not talking about sex here. I’m talking about “play”. For lots of folks, those two are the same, but not for me. They can be mingled and mixed together, certainly. But I’m able easily to keep them separate as well.

I’m of the mind that the proper partner for a sadist is a submissive, not a masochist. If you use the finite definitions of those two words, a sadist isn’t whacking on someone for their pleasure; he’s wanting them to suffer and hurt. And a masochist, at some level, isn’t suffering at all, she’s getting off. That, of course, is my own little opinion and I’m welcome to it ?

"He who lets me get away with murder."

I think I’ve said this before. But I actually have some quiet time today and can expound on some past bits of wisdom and thought.

I don’t want to get away with anything.

The minute a dominant lets something slide, unless there is a mental or physical reason for it, I start rebelling in a major way. I start testing boundaries, seeing what else I can get away with. It’s often subconscious; I’m typically not a person who plays games (they piss me off and I always lose), but every once in awhile, I catch myself pushing against something, just to see if I can break it.

*shrug* Maybe that means I’m a true brat, I dunno. I really don’t believe that. If I’m in a relationship with a dominant who has gained my respect and trust, the brat only comes out occasionally for both of our pleasure; to release him from any guilt of actually doing something we both enjoy (punishment) and to give him a reason to swat my ass~.

It’s different, though, if someone starts letting me get away with things. Both of my last two dominants did that. It wasn’t a one-shot thing – like they were tired or over-worked or stressed out and just ignored my misplaced brattiness or overlooked a broken rule. That’s expected in any relationship – vanilla, chocolate or mint. No, they just stopped being actively dominant. My first response to that is to become more actively submissive, and when that doesn’t work, I really start pushing. Is it right? No, probably not. But let’s face it; That’s what I’m here for. To be dominated and have rules and such. That’s what I enjoy, that’s what feeds me and makes me feel alive. And no matter how much you love someone, putting your own needs on hold only works for so long before you start sliding into the oblivion of depression.

In both cases, it was sad to see the relationship degenerate to such a level of vanilla-ness, because in the beginning, things had been heavenly. In all relationships, there are ebbs and flows, but if the reason you got into the relationship suddenly goes away for a long period of time – no amount of love is going to fill that gap for an extended period.

I don’t think I was really aware of any of this – the reasons that I do some of the things I do to push – until recently. Now that I am, however, it makes weeding through the emails much easier. I can almost tell immediately when someone is going to be “he who lets me get away with murder.”

Fear. Desire. Respect

Fear.
Respect.
Desire.

These will determine how I react when you call me a whore, when you grab my hair and shove your cock past my lips, when you slap yourself across my cheek.

They will determine how willingly I move to do as you ask. Do I feel a threat of force? Do I feel a need to bend my will to yours? Do I feel a wetness spread across my inner lips when you cock your head and narrow your eyes at me?

Do I want to do it for you? or for me?

And more importantly, what lurks in the back of my mind if I willfully decide to refuse?

*grin*

Freedom

"The greatest freedom we have is obedience."

Quote from HBO's Big Love, which I finally caught up with today.

I had to write that quote down. It's mildly prolific and eloquently profound when applied to the submissive end of BDSM.

I certainly feel that, when submitting. I know it's trite and said often enough to make people vomit, but think on it. Being free to do as I wish is something we're basically handed at birth in this country. (providing you follow the rules and laws ya ya ya).

But the freedom to absolutely let go of all of your hangs ups and worries and stigmas and issues - and to simply submit to someone else's will - allows you another kind of freedom. The freedom to feel with no worries about what you're feeling

Standing

Fictious but delicious

Standing
Copyright 2006, Kanthra Adaire
All Rights Reserved

I didn’t know. Honest, I didn’t know.
I asked before I came to see you but you didn’t ever answer me directly.
The shock on my face was real.
The tightness in my chest was real.
The inability to breathe was real.
Your eyes. Good lord, your eyes went dark.
I had seen them light only moments before, when I arrived.
Then dark, nearly black, almost invisible in the dim light.
(I’ll ask you later how you did that)
The sharp edge to your voice cut more deeply into my skin
Then your belt did.
Your words pounded my temples
As the blood pounded against my ass from where the leather hit
(no amount of I’m sorry’s helped)
The tears were real.
My cries were real.
My pain was very real.
Internal, external, no matter.
It was what you needed
(and I told you that you should always take what you need…)
And it was what I needed, too
It put me on solid ground
No matter how weak my knees felt.
I’ve never known so quickly where I stood.
And never wanted to stand there more.

Dating

Had an interesting conversation with my mother yesterday.

She’s one of the first people who told me that it was time to get divorced. “You’ve given him a year, that’s more than anyone else would have.” She was right then.

So I told her yesterday on our way back from shopping that I’m going to just “date”. I like having my own space at home, and I have no need for a one-guy relationship right now. She said “good for you!”

I was floored by that. My own mother, advocating the possibility of her born-and-raised-Catholic daughter being potentially promiscuous. *snicker*

I think my mom would have preferred a different life than she had. I know she wouldn’t have been as extreme as I am, but I’d wager a guess she’d have been a little wilder.

On the other hand, maybe she’s just tired of seeing me get run over by the love train, and wants me to take a break /wink.

"Daddy"

So.

In speaking with one of the dominants I’m getting to know the other night, the subject of “daddy” came up. I have in my profile that that’s something I’m interested in, and have played with before, but he asked me a point blank question, and in truth, I wasn’t sure how to answer it.

(forgive me, S**, I’ll never remember exactly how you worded this…)

The question was something like “Is it really Daddy, or is it just the older man and the younger innocent girl?”

The question actually kinda stopped me in my tracks, because until he said that, I hadn’t ever given it much thought. Truth is, I lost my virginity at 16 tied to my older (23) boyfriend’s waterbed. I have typically liked older men for many reasons (also like younger ones for other reasons entirely).

I’ve done a lot of driving in the last few days. Went up to the Portage area for a meet and greet Friday night, and went to my folks’ yesterday. Car time is think time for me, typically, so I did give this question some thought.

I don’t have any unresolved feelings about my real dad. He’s a great guy – kind, intelligent, affectionate – strict when he had to be (I turned into a wild child at 16, go figure). I find that typically while most people will put the stigma of unresolved issues as an explanation for age play, it’s not really all that true.

My first real experience with age play was in CA, when I was with M. I’m not sure how it started, or why – but it did, and it gave me such a huge burst of sexual strength and energy that I started to crave it. Eventually, we settled into a pattern where “Marie” (my inner child *snicker*) got to come out and play every few months, and that worked for me. In truth, setting aside all of your life experience as an adult to play the part of a 12-14 year old virginal being is not an easy thing. It takes a lot of energy just letting all of your knowledge go for a period of time, and just “being” a child. Not that it isn’t rewarding, fun or sexy as hell – it’s just something that I typically like to mentally prepare for.

I haven’t played with it much since M. My ex, C, didn’t find it remotely appealing (for whatever reason) so it never came into our relationship, and the other brief encounters I’ve had in the last 12 years never felt comfortable enough to bring that out. That’s why I put it in my profile. It’s something I’d like to play with again, to an extent.

I’m finding that there are all sorts of daddy/daughter scenarios. Some I find appealing, some I truly don’t. (I was talking to a dominant, first conversation, and he started to type out this long thing about not doing my homework, and then peeing in the toilet and dipping my toothbrush in it, then brushing my teeth and I just kinda went…uh, pass. Thanks, but not what I’m into).

So, what am I looking for with this?

That’s a really good question that deserves a really good answer. I like the release. I like reverting to a place in time where I had no sexual knowledge or experience, and had to be shown or told what to do, and how to do it. I like the security of that first experience being with someone I “know, love and trust”. It allows an openness and a vulnerability that I do not allow myself very often (I’ve been called a tough cookie more than once in my life, and I do tend to build walls when I’m feeling … not quite safe). (that’s typically why I’m a fan of bondage as well – it removes my ability to argue internally).

And so, would that have to be Daddy? No, I guess in truth it wouldn’t. It could be any older male figure. Daddy, to me, is the most intense of them, but it wouldn’t have to be that. Just someone who made me feel safe and secure enough to let it all go.

I’m still thinking about this, so maybe more to come.

S** is one of the dominants I’ve been chatting with. His name actually begins wit a C, however, so does my ex’s and that would be confusing. S is for his handle. Or Sir :P

Invincible

Invincible

Thursday when I got home from work, I started thinking about what I was going to wear to the local meet and greet for a group I belong to on AFF. As I was putting my outfit together, it occurred to me that I’d dropped a couple sizes in the last couple of months, and I had some new options, namely, my biker jacket. I tried it on. It fit! I was in heaven.

This jacket is symbolic to me. I bought it when my ex in Ca, M., bought his 97 FLSTS at a shop in Santa Cruz. The bike was new, the jacket was new, it was a new experience for us. In 3 years, we put over 30K miles on the bike (and the jacket) and I always felt so free, so strong, so sexy sitting on the back of that machine.

When I slipped the jacket on Thursday night, I felt all of those things again, and felt an additional emotion: I felt invincible.

I love the way the jacket smells, the way it feels against my skin. The weight of it reminds me continuously that it’s there, and I even love the way it creaks when I move. It reminds me of a time when I felt safe, secure, and open to every possibility in life.

I wore it to the meet and greet on Friday and I know it alleviated my fear of meeting new people in a group setting like that. It was wonderful.

Data

I've been at work for 45 minutes. I don't feel like being here. I'd rather be home immersed in writing some deep, detailed, dirty erotica.

It's not that I don't like my job. I do. I'm a systems analyst. I deal with very finite things like programming code and data - things that don't argue, aren't moody and tempremental. I prefer my code and data to working with people. At least with them, I always know where I stand.

People, though. People are different.

I've been "online" for about 13 years now. Started way back with the AOL bastards, and proceeded up to high speed internet :D I've met so many wonderful people - some of which I've actually met and become close friends with offline - from all different walks of life, all different places. I'm involved in community for soap makers, candle makers, navy wives (well, some of us are ex navy wives lol), writing, BDSM, online gaming (mmorpg type), sensuality...the list goes on. And always, there are a few in the bunch who are just...ugh. Moody. Up and kind one day, down and spiteful the next. I do not like working with those kinds of people. I'm a girl who likes to know where my feet are planted, and how firmly :) So I like my data.

Nasty

Nasty.

Someone asked me recently what the nastiest thing I had ever done sexually was. That's such a good question, but so hard to answer. Tastes change over time. Something that might have been VERY nasty to me 15 years ago might be something that is normal to me now.

My ex seemed to have harder and higher limits than mine as far as that goes. There were things that I'd given thought to and wanted to try, but he was very resistent to. And I never knew why. He never said, and if I asked, typically the subject got changed. I got him to put his hand on my throat once, and he slapped me maybe twice, but these were things that were never repeated, even if I asked. I think I started building walls about then. I wanted to protect myself from judgement - I don't know if he was judging my desires or not, but I didn't want to take the chance. This was someone that I didn't want to have to protect myself from, and I resented that, I think. This was the person that I wanted to be able to be 100pct free with, and feel as if I could ask for anything, do anything, feel anything. I thought that's what he wanted too, but his actions were much different than his words. I wanted to be his dirty litle whore, but I ended up being his wife. Maybe he just couldn't - after 12 years of knowing me - see me that way.

I wanted to be nasty. He wanted to be - I dunno. Something else.

I feel a bigger loss from that than anything right now.

Satin

After shopping last night online for some new lingerie, I decided it was time to sort out the stuff I have, and see what's too big, and what fits now that didn't before.

See, I'm a lingerie whore. You might not know it by looking at me, but playing dress up before sex is so much fun for me, especially now that I feel better about how I look in the stuff.

Anyway, I made a pile of stuff I know is too big, and at the bottom of the drawer, I found a chemise - long, dark red, slinky, sexy, floor length (ok, not exactly lingerie, but sexier than the 12 year old tshirt I usually sleep in). I looked at it, and asked myself "Why aren't we sleeping in *that*?"

So I did.

I love the feel of satin against my skin. I slept very well. Even though it's too big now, and sorta just hangs on me, I'm still going to wear it to sleep in, because it makes me feel like a goddess. It's also very sexy because I'm very bare up top, back and shoulders, and my hair dances across my skin in a very sensual way.

So regardless of what I spend my weekend doing (cleaning blech), I get to spend my weekend nights wrapped in satin and feeling very....much like my old self.

There is more to me than this

I'm an intelligent woman. I can hold my end of a conversation about nearly any topic just fine. I'm a systems analyst. I'm a writer.

I have a rich imagination. I dream in stories and colors and smells.

I love to bake, but rarely do. I nearly turned in my geek hat for pastry chef school this past year.Gayle Gand is a personal hero of mine.

I've read the entire Gregory MacGuire series of books. Have you?

Fantasy fiction - stories about other worlds and times - is my current favorite. I've even forayed into writing it a bit.

Sarah McLachlan sings what I feel. Then again, Motley Crue and Bob Seger make me dance, so which is better?

I'm a sucker for....

3 things I'm a sucker for:

a couple of fresh lillies or irises
a bottle of Porfidio
a blank, spiral bound journal, with a fat pen :)

Aye.

I got up this morning and realized that it was St Patrick's Day.

Knowing my wardrobe as well as I do, I knew there wasn't anything in the "clothes I wear" section that was even close to green.

Panic set in.

Then, I opened the other door of my closet and peered inside. Green sweater, near the back. Haven't worn it since Portland, so 5-6 years ago.

I warily removed it from the hanger, looked at the size, held it up.
"that's not going to fit yet." I chided myself.
"You wait and see."

It fit.

St Patrick bless me, I'm back in some more clothes I didn't know if I'd ever wear again!

4 leaf clovers for everyone!

slightly inspired

I guess it's not easy to realize when you're in a bad spot - how bad it is. When it starts getting better, and you look back and realize how dark it was, it makes you run even faster to get away.

Siren's Song

My horoscope today started with... "If you let yourself be lured by the siren song of ambivalence...."

Well, ambivalence isn't something I usually am lured by. Actually, it sorta pisses me off. But I got to thinking about things that come into my life that I am lured by.....

Siren Songs (and how I’m learning selective hearing)

When my marriage officially ended (not legally yet, just officially in my mind), I made a few decisions, the most important of which being: If you aren’t getting as much out of a relationship as you’re putting into it, it’s time for it to go.

I’ve spent the last few days evaluating the relationships in my life. Things that used to keep me in them – even when they weren’t fulfilling me, or giving back equally to me, no longer will be allowed to hold me. I say that, knowing full well that it’s easier to say than to do.

Not only am I learning to relate to people different, but I also need to learn to relate to myself differently. I don’t have to settle for scraps if what I really want is filet mignon. I don’t always have to initiate contact. I don’t always have to laugh at a joke if I don’t feel like it. I don’t have to respond to something said simply to get my goat.

In the past, my responses were automatic. I’m trying to make them less so now.

I do not have to listen to the siren’s song, and dance for her.

I’ll dance when I goddamn well want to, and not before.

The array of choices before me now is limitless. I intend to sample the ones that appeal to me, and not feel obligated to taste them all. I don’t eat anything anymore just because it’s there – why should I feel obligated to take an option just because it exists?

I shouldn’t. I don’t. I won’t.

Punishment

I am punishing myself with a wool sweater today. I don't know why else I would wear it except to give myself the itchies all day.

Well, it's purple, and it's vneck and I do love the color. But it makes me itch. I don't know why I keep it.

I wonder sometimes if we don't punish ourselves subsconciously. I have to wonder if the reason I haven't told C to file his fucking divorce papers is because I'm punishing myself for some unknown offense against him. Consciously, I know I haven't done a thing that would warrant his behavior or treatment of me for the better part of 18 months. (oh, when I'm there, he's great but that's cause he wants sex, I'm sure - right now, there's an outstanding email for him (sent 3 times) that he has yet to respond to in 3 weeks)

I know that when I make poor food choices, I punish myself by yelling at my inner self. So maybe - just maybe - we do it more than we realize.

Or, maybe I'm just full of shit and cranky today because my sweater is making me itch.

The geek in me says.....

[jms@lifetables]$ vi makeLifeChanges.sql

alter table Life add
Exercise varchar2(2006),
EatingBetter varchar2(2006),
;
alter table life drop
EvilSugarCarbsFat varchar2(2004),
Pounds number,
;

commit;

If you understand that, welcome to geekdom :)

Sad, but time.

I took my engagement ring off last night.

I’d been wearing it again since I went down to Virginia to see C. in October, but at this point, I don’t think there’s much sense wearing it.

It’s an emerald – my favorite. Maybe when this is all done and over with, I’ll have the stone removed and remade into another ring.

3 emails and still no response from him at all. I know the boat’s not out.

I guess that’s all the answer I need, huh.

It’s time.

Beautiful

Someone posed the question on a group asking what makes women feel beautiful. I’ve been thinking a lot about that the last few days.

I feel best when I’m taking excellent care of myself. Yesterday, after working out and before jumping in the shower, I gathered some of my soap making stuff in the kitchen and made myself an awesome sugar scrub to use. (I make handmade soap and candles as a hobby. I had a business for awhile but it just flat out got to be too much with a full time job). I put my favorite shower scent (Oatmeal, Milk and Honey) in it, and carted it into the shower with me. Using it, letting the scent waft around me in the hot water and steam - *that* makes me feel beautiful. Because I’m doing something good for myself, and making myself happy doing it. Braiding my hair when it’s wet, and sleeping on it until the next day – taking it out and letting these nice, soft huge waves fall out of it (see picture – that’s what I did there), and feeling their softness flow over my shoulders - *that* makes me feel beautiful.

Everyone is different of course. Everyone has different triggers that make their blood run hot and their eyes narrow in ecstasy and their tongue slip out to lick their dry lips seductively. But for me, taking care of myself – something I had never been good at until about a year ago – really does it for me.

While I don’t endorse divorce for exploration’s sake, this separation has certainly led me to do some interesting thinking.

After a particularly disappointing conversation with the ex, I gave some serious thought to my relationships, and my behavior in them. I discovered much to my…dismay… that I’ve typically been a pursuer in a relationship. It may not always start that way, but it’s typically been me who’s done the pursuing after the initial contact. I’ve always had a very bad habit – though I didn’t know it was bad at the time – of doing the lion’s share of the work, and making it entirely too easy for the men I’ve had in my life.

This was brought to the forefront of my mind on Valentine’s day – when the only gift I received was from a very dear friend. He sent me lilies, my favorite. And I had to seriously stop and think about when the last time it was that a man had sent me flowers without actually having been in a committed relationship with me. Actually giving that some thought, I had to admit myself that I had never really been “courted”. Quite an eye opener for a lady twice divorced(well, once, and looking at #2), with an additional 4 year live-in relationship in her life.

Looking at my life today, I realized that I still sorta revert to my previous habits. I’m typically the first one to send a message to someone when they come online. I’ll be the one who sends an email out of the blue. I’ll be the one who calls.

And I’m realizing (albeit slowly) that that’s not the way I want the rest of my life to go.

With my weight loss comes a self-confidence that I haven’t felt in many years. And with that confidence comes a reminder that – hey, chick, you don’t have to do that. Let someone else take the wheel for a change.

How that’s going to impact my sex life, only the goddess knows. But considering I’ve been mostly celibate for the last 18 months, it’s only got to get better /wink.

Hm.

I have never been courted.

Not in an old-fashioned sense. Not in a today-sense.

I meet someone, we spend time together, it progresses. Not once in my entire life have I actually been courted. No one ever had to "work" to get me. I've fallen into relationships as easy as some people fall into a snowbank.

*chuckle* Maybe that's a problem.

I got flowers from a friend for Valentine's day.

I've decided that I liked that, and I want more of it :)

Another one

Another birthday, come and gone.

I had considered getting pissy about the lack of attention from down south on such an auspicious day. Actually I did get pissy. For about 10 minutes.

Then I decided that no one deserves that kinda control over my emotions. And I left it behind.

So. Happy birthday to me. I stayed under my calories, I did 35 minutes @ 17.7mph on the bike, and I relaxed.

Who needs more than that?

Me first.

At several points in my life, I've made this promise to myself:

ME First.

And typically, after I've done that, something happens - some kind of dramatic bullshit - that distracts me from that.

I'm making a conscious decision to not let that happen this time.

I've spent far too much time in the last year worrying about things I have no control over. No more.

Focus --> Me.

I can't help feeling selfish by doing and saying that. But occasionally in life, you gotta be selfish. Especially when it's your own life at stake.