The Ex Factor

I got an email from a reader the other day that asked me if my ex's minded being talked about in my blog.

I don't know. I didn't ask :p

Seriously, C knows this is here. I gave it to him a long time ago, but I doubt he comes anywhere near it, simply because his life is going in a different direction. M? Well, M is a pretty religious guy now (I still can't wrap my mind around what changed that), and I'm almost positive he doesn't even know this exists - and considering that we don't share any of the same friends anymore, I'm sure it doesn't matter. My friend, former "tether holder and muse", R from VA, knows this is here, and even reads it occasionally I think /wink. My first husband? Probably can't run a computer. J? J doesn't know much about 'this side' of me, so I'm sure he isn't aware of it, nor would he care.

I don't think I've said anything horribly negative about anyone. I've been honest about them, myself and the relationships I had (and still have in some cases) with them. It's not like I've given you their names and addresses so you can point and laugh at them on the street. I use them as examples. I write about them when they have affected my life in one way or another, or when they are relevant to me relating an experience I've had. This isn't a blog about how horrible my ex's are. I'd never devalue it, or myself, in that way. As a matter of fact, I am who I am today because of the relationships I have had with those men, and to be honest, I'm pretty happy with who I am today - so how can it be all bad? (*this does not include the jackass I lived with in my early 20's who thought beating women up (non consensually) was his right as a man. No, it certainly doesn't include him.*) I've taken away at least one good thing from each relationship I've had since my mid-twenties.

I am careful about talking about people I have in my life now. I've been very good about asking permission to write about certain things, even though that goes against my ability to "write what I want, when I want." There's a line between being able to write freely and being a good friend, and the line has to remain. I'm all right with that.

We are Everywhere!

And the young men aren’t the only things coming out of the woodwork….

The thing about the Internet is that people feel safe in their anonymity most of the time. Or, at least I think that’s what it is…

I belong to a couple of relatively loosely run geek forums. I play mmorpg’s. I run into all kinds of people.

And yet recently, about half the ones I’ve run into admit – freely, and without provocation – that they are kinky as hell.

A girl cracks one dirty joke and they all come running …

And it’s not just men aiming to hit on me, either. It’s women with questions. It’s dominant men, submissive men, bi-curious men. It’s mostly rational discussions about safety and advice, with a bit of flirting sometimes thrown in for good measure. It’s nice to be flirted with, with the caveat, as before that it doesn’t become creepy or stalker-like. It does a person good to feel desirable. If it ever starts to feel gross or again, creepy, I back away softly and get out my big stick *grin

I don’t invite the inquiries/flirts/teases. But apparently, I give off enough of a ‘sexually open and aware’ vibe that people feel an opening to share. Which on one hand is cool as hell. And on the other hand is a little scary. Most of the time, it’s a one-shot conversation about a particular thing. They go away, happy to have been validated, and I get a smile out of a good conversation. Everyone’s happy.

I’m pleased that more and more people are freely admitting that they’re kinky. It’s not like I’m some political BDSM person who wants us to have a movement like the gay/lesbian communities, because I don’t. But it is a little fun to know that there are more of us out there than we think.

I don’t mean to say that everyone is like that. I do occasionally run into vanilla folks who ‘ick’ at the idea of anything other than soft, cuddly sex. I smile at them, and wish them well (a few of them mistakenly found my blog and got a big surprise! lol) and hope that they remain happy in their choices.

That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? Being happy in how you choose to live you (sex) life?

Unanswerable

There was a great question posed on one of the forums I read the other day. I’ve been thinking about it off and on for a couple days now, and I thought I’d share it.

- If you could choose only one, which would you prefer for one night: Great sex, then sleeping alone? Or sleeping with someone you care about without sex? –

I’ve been trying to figure out an “a” or ”b” answer to that, and I haven’t gotten there. And I think it’s because each time my mood changes, the answer changes.

In other words, ask me on any given day and get a different answer.

There are nights where I’d like nothing more than to fuck the bejesus out of someone and then just go to sleep. And there are other nights when I’d rather just put on a comfy nightshirt and curl up next to someone who just plain gives a damn about me. I thought maybe it had to do with what kind of day I’d had, but I’m not entirely sure if that’s fully true; even if I’ve had a horrible day, sometimes, fucking someone would be at the top of my list.

I’m not a huge fan of casual sex, or sex-for-sex sake. I want to at least *like the person I’m having inside me – have a friendship with them, have things in common, be able to laugh and enjoy. Without that for me, sex becomes relatively meaningless except for a physical release (which, in my experience, isn’t as good if you don’t give a flying fuck about the person you’re sleeping with). I don’t need love or even infatuation. But I do want some sort of connection for it to be mentally pleasing as well as physically.

I do realize there are people who can enjoy it for the pure physical aspect, and I don’t have anything against them, or against that. It’s just not where I come from.

So, why then, are there nights I’d rather just *fuck than cuddle?

(You’ll note I didn’t say go pick up a stranger to fuck in an alley then go home :p Hot fantasy, reality probably not so much)

I get way too deep into my mind sometimes. I think too much (shocker, I know) and if I’ve had a bad emotional or mental day, sometimes an orgasm or two brings me out of my mind and back into my body. I don’t make any secret to the fact that I have a couple of vibrators and I know how to use them /wink. Sometimes, before I can close my eyes and be assured of actually falling asleep, a quick roll with one will let me come back to the physical side of me and close off my mind. If for some reason I can’t – or don’t feel like – doing that, and I’ve been thinking too hard, it’s hell for me to get to sleep. Turning off my mind at night is hit or miss.

There are other times when I’ve had a good day (more of these than bad for awhile now, always a good thing), that I’d be content to just curl up with someone, feel their heart beat and lazily fall into sleep.

And then there are other times when I feel on top of the world that I could lay in bed and have multiple orgasms and drift happily off to sleep, without it being a ‘need’ thing.

Like I said, it just all depends, and it changes daily/hourly for me.

So I can’t answer the question fully. I hate that. :p The over-achiever in me says there is an answer for everything.

But maybe I’m wrong. This time

Age is just a number

Funny thing.

When I was younger, I typically dated older men. I absolutely adored older men. My first boyfriend was 7 years older than I was.

And now?

The young ones are coming out of the woodwork *grin

I don’t mean teenagers or even early twenties. But for some reason I seem to catch the attention of the 25-35 year old crowd, both in the scant few profiles I have up, and in other online forums (message boards, gaming, etc)

Oh, I know all the stereotypes about how younger men want an older woman to ‘teach them the ropes’ so to speak, and how men in general like a woman who’s comfortable in her sexuality and embraces it, as many women do once they pass 35. Even in a dominant/submissive relationship, it’s been said other places that younger dominants tend to gravitate toward older submissives simply for the ‘kink’ of the age difference.

I dunno about all that. But I do know the attention, provided it doesn’t get stalker-like, is kind of hot. *smirk. I think perhaps the confidence that I’ve gained over the last few years has made the age differences less of an issue, and has opened a lot of paths I’d not considered.

Ten years ago, I never would have considered dating a man in his twenties. C is 2.5 years younger than me, and that was about the limit of how far I was willing to go with that. Now, though – now, I’m not shying away from that attention so much.

That’s not to say that I’d limit myself by choosing older or younger or ‘my age’. But there is something to be said about the exuberance of youth, and the stamina, and… well, you get the idea, right?

I mean hell, if Demi Moore can do it, why can’t the rest of us? *grin

Relationship Status, or something

I got to chatting with my friends over the weekend about "why don't you have a boyfriend omg you don't even date wtf"

I'm paraphrasing, of course (sorta)

I started off pointedly NOT defending my decision, and then the longer it went on, the more I found myself coming up for really good reasons why I don't have a local "squeeze".

I like my life.

After spending 5 years letting the Navy tell me what I could do, when I could do it, and how often I could do it, the last three years have been a nice change. If I wake up on Saturday morning and don't feel like getting dressed - guess what - I don't! If I come home from work, work out, take a shower and don't feel like getting re-dressed - guess what? I play/write/watch TV in my robe. If I want to go to the Dragon Art Festival Saturday, I don't have to check schedules, ask anyone if they want to go, make sure I have a car. I just *go.

Oh, I'm sure the beauty of being Miss Independent will wear off at some point (and probably out of the blue when I least expect it), but right now, I have no serious motivation to *look* for a significant other.

Now, having said all that, there is naturally a downside to that. I'm guessing if you've read here at all before this post, you can figure out what that is.

No? Stop playing dumb /grin

(C'mon, you thought I was going to say fucking, didn't you? Admit it. You did.)

Okay, yes, that's part of it. I'm not going to sit here with my halo on and pretend I haven't had any since C and I separated, because I have. And I'm not going to pretend that a few of those *weren't* C, because they were. But what I meant - was simple companionship and affection.

I'm very affectionate. Not like Miss PDA or anything, but privately I'm very much that way. Having a good relationship - actually *liking someone that you just happen to also be fucking - being able to talk about pretty much anything and having their intelligence be at least on par with your own - feeling very comfortable with them - these things are important, and can't be over-looked even from within the walls of Miss Independent.

I've waivered a lot in the last three years about the pros and cons of relationships - all kinds of relationships, not just sexual ones. LDRs, marriage, living together - I've run the gamut between thinking each of these was the devil to wanting each of them in my life. I guess that's normal, but for someone who's been pretty clear about what she wants for most of her life (whether I reached out to take it or not is another story), it's a bit daunting.

Fact of the matter is, I've been 'in love' for the sake of being 'in love' before and it bites. When you grow dependent on another person to make you feel good, you risk losing your ability to do that for yourself. There are better reasons to 'be' with someone than just to 'be' with someone and not be alone. There is no question that it's a nice ego boost to have someone who makes you feel good in your life, just so long as you can do that for yourself as well. It's nice to be wanted and desired. And sometimes, just knowing someone out there feels that for you can give you the boost that you need to get through a rough patch. But growing dependent on that is where the quicksand starts. I know the line (for myself) now. And I'm not crossing it ever again.

Having said all that, yes. It'd be nice to have a nice deep hum in the background of my life that was on the same wavelength as I was - that was comfortable with independence and companionship being able to co-exist in a relationship. Someone who lived down the street, someone who lived 2000 miles away. Because of the way the relationship would be built, it wouldn't make that big of a difference.

You'd think that'd be easy, right?

Not so much.

So, I continue to contemplate, and enjoy where I am right now. The fact that what I want can change on a daily or hourly basis is a bit scary, but I guess that's the risk you take when you step out of the 'doing what you *should do' role and into your own will.

And the fact that there are nights when I really do wish the other side of the bed had a living, breathing body (besides a cat :p) in it - someone I could roll over and snuggle with, or wake up to in the morning and have an intellectual conversation (or a good sound fuck, either way *smirk*) with, remains.

But in my own way. In my own time. And not because I need it.

I want to want it.

It's True!

You know how you hear things sometimes and you just roll your eyes and go – yea, right? Stuff like – “Vegetables are good for you” and “Don’t run with scissors” and “You have to love yourself first before anyone will love you”?

Some of those damn things are true, you know. No, I’m not kidding.

The one I’m talking about now though is best summed up this way:
You’re only as sexy on the outside as you feel on the inside. Confidence in yourself *is sexy.

If you’re curious, I had a fantastic time in Philly. I spent 4 days with some of my favorite people on this planet, and soaked up as much love and affection and laughter as I could cram into my waking hours.

Not only that, but I got winked at, called ‘sexy’ and “loved” on by more people in those four days than I think I ever have in my life.

That, my friends, is what confidence will do for you.

Despite the fact that I’ve fucked up my knee, and am having to give it a break this week from the torture device…err, exercise bike… the exercise and the extra attention to detail about how and what I was eating paid off for me. I lost more weight in 3 weeks than I have in the last three months. No, it wasn’t a huge amount, but the freaking scale *did move, so I was a happy girl when I flew out of her on Friday, and I’m still happy about it today.

The fact is, I feel better. When I feel better, I look better. And when I feel great, I’m sexy as hell. (Arrogance? No. Confidence, yes!)

I’m not nearly done, but I’m getting closer all the time. And when I get there, I’ll know it.

How?

I’ll be goddamn irresistible /wink

The Fact is.....

I wrote my last blog post at work today. I had intended to post it, and leave it at that, so that I could finish getting ready to go and leave things on a positive note at home, and go enjoy myself.

Thing is, it's not entirely accurate. The fact is, I'm fucking tired.

Now, some of that exhaustion can well be attributed to the fact that for the last 14 days, I have only missed ONE Day of cardio on the bike, and the last several days, my mileage per session has been up over 11 miles a day (my left knee hates me). All good. I don't mind that kind of tired. It means I'm doing something that's good for my physical and mental health. But that ain't all there is to it, unfortunately.

Mother's Day really nailed it for me I think.

I am fucking tired of always being the one who does the right thing. I'm tired of being the only grand-daughter (out of two) who goes to visit her grandmother in the nursing home. I'm tired of being the only daughter (out of two) who even gets a CARD for my mother. I'm tired of being the one who is always there, always patient, always doing the responsible and adult thing.

No, I don't mind doing those things. I do mind being the ONLY one who does those things. (And no, I can't speak to my sister about it. Been there, done that - many decades of doing it, and she lives in her own world and reality, where everything is her and everyone else doesn't exist.)

It applies to other areas of my life, too. Just re-arrange the words a bit, and apply to friends and ex-husbands and co-workers. I'm tired of always being the one to break the ice, to apologize where it's needed, to offer help, to stand up, to offer someone else an easy way out to make them comfortable. All of the traits and behaviors that made me such a good submissive seem to be dragging my vanilla life down to it's most exhausted point.

Again, not always - not with all people, but I can clearly say that the more than half of my relationships, whatever they may be, end up like this eventually.

I'm emotionally exhausted sometimes. Not all the time, but sometimes. And there isn't anyone to blame but me because I'm the one who has control over it. Instead of simply backing off when my energy gets depleted, I just keep on keepin' on, because it's all I seem to know how to do. It's not like I don't know there's a better way, but it's just difficult for me to get there. I’ve written over the last several weeks about being honest with myself, and being authentic. This is what I mean. This is a behavior that has got to change in me, now.

There was a time in my life (okay, maybe several times) when this behavior made sense to me. Because I didn't feel like I deserved reciprocation in all things. My self-esteem was so far down that I did what I did because it was all I could do.

But I fucking know better now. And I'm still doing it.

The good thing is, this weekend will feed me plenty. I have great friends coming to Philly for this party and people I adore and trust and who sincerely care about my well being. I'm going to come home full.

Let's see if I can't manage to stay that way for a while.

Before I go....

I figured I better put up something - y'all would think I fell into a pothole or something :p

I've been busy as hell this week getting ready for my trip out to Philly. Throwing a baby shower long distance (well, prepping for said baby shower, I'll be there for the actual shower) isn't as easy as you'd think. But I'm all set now, and it's a good thing, I fly out at 11am tomorrow.

My new laptop arrived and is all set up but I won't be taking it with me this weekend, as I think I'll be plenty busy doing other things :) I'm looking forward to 4 days away where all I have to worry about is getting there, having fun and coming home :)

I've been doing some character creation on my new story idea. I actually had an epiphany last night -- I struggle when it comes to actually starting a story, but that's because as a type-a, I like order. Rather than do that, I'm going to start with the first thing that popped into my head with this story, a sex scene, and build it from there, forward and backward. I'm thinking that's going to make it much smoother. We'll see.

Have a great holiday weekend, and I'll catch up next week!

Authentic

Over the last couple of years, being ‘authentic’ has been increasingly important to me. I was raised in a world where you got married and had kids after college because it was the right thing to do, not because you wanted to. I did the get married part, the kids part never happened for various reasons (miscarriages primarily), and to people outside of my family, I probably look like I’ve lead a pretty independent life, away from rules and ‘the way things are supposed to be’.

That’s not entirely true. I always tried to do what I was ‘supposed to do’, but because of who I am, it just never happened the way ‘it was supposed to’. Figuring that out when C and I separated, I’ve had to spend the last three trying to figure out who I am, opposed to who I’m supposed to be. Doing that takes a great deal of self-honesty, which is something no one is born good at. It also takes a lot of behaving honestly and speaking honestly with other people. I have gotten much better at that, primarily because I’ve given up the whole ‘supposed to be’ shit.

I am who I am supposed to be. Me.

Around other people in the last year or so, since I started meeting more new people that I got to know on various online games around the country, I’ve put the ‘behaving honestly, speaking honestly’ into practice. When I went to the East Coast last month, I was me. When I went to Philly last year (twice) and as I’m preparing to go again next weekend, I’m me when I’m there. I’m not trying to impress anyone. I’m not trying to ‘snare’ a boyfriend because society frowns on me not having one. I’m not trying to be the center of anyone’s attention. I’m just – me. People can take me or leave me.

Thing is, the better I have become at being authentic, the better the friendships I have made are. I know that’s common sense. But for a girl who grew up fat, and who felt she had to be someone else in order to get people to like her, and overlook the fat thing, it’s not a concept that was readily available to my fingertips. I had to learn how to do it.

As my comfort level with who I am really am has increased, other things in my life have come into question. One of those things is my submission.

I am sexually submissive. That’s never been in question, and has been a part of me since the first time I laid eyes on a cock. I still feel that very strongly. Along with being sexually submissive, though, I’m also very sexually adventurous. Which means I’m not always submissive. And that’s all right. Variety is good *wink

I don’t know that I’ve ever had a full-time dominant/submissive relationship with a dominant that was emotionally healthy, though. And I know that my submission outside the bedroom has not always come from a healthy place, such as where I am now. Having no experience with that kind of relationship, I’m just not sure right now where I stand on it. I have to question it. And I am. I’m just not entirely sure 24/7 would ever work for me again.

That’s all right, though. It’s good to question things. It’s good to say out loud what you’re thinking and to ask and answer questions despite the risk of perhaps not getting what you want. It’s better to know, than just to ‘think’. I would rather be turned away from someone for being me, than for being someone I was pretending to be.

I’ve identified as a submissive for so many years that’s it’s hard to think of perhaps having to change that.

Or is it?

How about if I just identify as a kinky little bitch instead? *grin

What's Underneath

Not all that long ago, I opened up a storage tub that contained about 8 years worth of lingerie that I’ve been carting around with me from California, to Oregon, to Connecticut, to Virginia, to here. I hadn’t opened it before that before I was afraid of it. I just knew that some of the gorgeous stuff I had in there was not going to fit, and that depressed me.

Turns out, by the time I did open it, most of it was too big, and went in the give-away pile (does goodwill take lingerie? Ha ha). What remained were a few key pieces, a leather mini-dress that I’ve yet to try on (no excuse, I just haven’t, but it’s very close to my size now), and about 20 thongs.

*shrug What can I say? C loved thongs. M preferred me to wear nothing, but when C and I got back together, he made his preference very clear, and even ventured into Fredericks in Las Vegas with me a few times to pick some out.

They aren’t my preference. That’s for sure. I have all 20 or so of them tucked away in the bottom drawer of my dresser, and a couple that I actually have worn recently for one reason or another.

There are so many choices these days. I don’t see any reason to be saddled (ha!) with something that I’m not comfortable wearing. They’re just not comfortable, period. Special occasion? Sure. Under lingerie? You bet! But every day? I’ll take a pass on that.

Recently, I started buying tangas

, and what they call “cheeky shorts”.





These are comfortable enough to wear to work, and are still sexy enough to make me feel good about wearing them.

See, I told C, about a year ago – “Life is too short for cheap ugly underwear”, and I meant it. I have a drawer full of very sexy (yet practical) bras from Victoria’s Secret and I see no reason not to have panties that match or compliment them – and even some that neither match nor compliment, but that I just found too cute to pass up. Like the blue lace ones with the ribbon-corset lacing at the top of the back. Or the red and white striped ones with the lace around them that match – hell, most of my wardrobe.

As for the rest of the lingerie, except a few pairs of thigh-highs that actually did fit, most of it is tucked away in the give-away bag, or my bottom drawer. I pretty much decided that I deserved to have all new lingerie, and have been working on rebuilding that portion of my wardrobe, slowly.

I have time /wink

The Return of the Will

I said recently that I have about 16 pounds left to go to my doctor’s goal for me. Up until this week, I was very satisfied with what he’d set, but now I’m not so sure.

I don’t know why that changed. I’m trying not to analyze it too much. But I know that 16 pounds aren’t probably going to be enough to make me as satisfied as I could be.

To that end, I started working my ass off (literally) these past weeks. In addition to working up to 45 minutes every week night on the bike (I’m at 34 minutes currently and had my first ten mile ride tonight *smile), I bought myself a nifty little set of wrist weights , a jump rope and one of those little crappy mini-stepper things. I do belong to a local gym (I went once last week) but for whatever reason, I’m just happier working on things at home.

It aggravates me that these last pounds won’t seem to come off. I also started calcing my calories this week, to see if maybe I was eating more or less than I thought I was – and I am, less that is. And I know I’m not getting enough protein. So I’m working on doing both of those things, too.

It’s amazing how much better I feel when I take that whole issue in hand instead of letting everything else be more important than that.

That said, my will to write seems to be back. Thankfully.

Patience (again, I'm sure)

I think I’ve written about patience before. I’m too impetuous to go look :p

For many things in life, I’m very patient. My grandfather always said that I should be a nurse or a teacher, because I had the patience to deal with the public at large without getting irritated. I was told most of my life that I would make an excellent mother because of my patience (I did make an excellent step-mother, and still do :p).

I do believe there are things worth waiting for. And I do believe that sometimes, going slowly into something you are unsure about is the safest and sanest bet.

But there are some things in life where I have little to no patience. And it’s in those things that I find that …

I want what I want when I want it.

And yes, sex is one of those times.

I love teasing someone. I am not so good on the other end of that touch. I can do it. I have a stubborn streak a mile wide and I can force myself to do lie there and take it, but inside, I’m screaming. This is not to say I don’t enjoy that /smirk but it is to say that it drives me absolutely crazy.

“Anything worth having is worth waiting for.”
“The longer you wait, the better it is.”

Yea yea yea, I get it.

Doesn’t mean I have to like it, right? Even though I might. A little.

Perhaps it’s my lack of patience, in those times, where I’m dying to cum or whimpering loudly in anticipation of being fucked silly that not getting exactly

What I want when I want it

is exactly what I need.

We seldom want and need the same things. Our body requires fuel. We want ice cream. We need a dependable car, but what we want is a shiny piece of crap. In those moments where we’re internally debating between what we think we should have, and what our lives truly call for that we learn the most about ourselves.

(Yes, it is possible to learn a lot about yourself while you’re fucking. Sorry if that shatters any illusions /wink)

We typically always know what we desire. That’s not always what’s good for us, though. And trying to strike a balance between want and need is often perilous and can leave us cold and frustrated.

I think truly, sometimes, it’s better that I don’t get

What I want when I want it.

So that when I do, the next time, I’ll appreciate it more.

So what does all that philosophizing have to do with getting fucked? Sometimes, in not winning, we really do win. In not giving in, we give ourselves a gift. And other times, what we really want – at the moment we want it – is exactly what we need. Strength of mind is good and all, don’t get me wrong. Patience is a virtue. But giving in to ourselves occasionally is a virtue too. Man does not live by bread alone.

It’s not all about sex. Sometimes what I want is answers. Sometimes, I want to be done with this weight-loss program. Sometimes, I just want a kind word right fucking NOW and am frustrated and impatient when I can’t get it.

But sometimes, what man (or woman) needs is a good sound fucking. There is something to be said for instant gratification. If there weren’t, we’d all have the patience of a saint.

I dunno about you, but I’m not up for sainthood. I don't look my best in white. /wink

The Way I'm Wired

I’ve been asked this often enough, so I guess I’ll answer it.

I have had wonderful sexual experiences with women in the past (and some not so wonderful, goes with the territory), and I’m not at all adverse having more in the future, but it’s not something that I actually seek out. I don’t call myself bisexual because I can’t ever see myself having a long-term relationship with a woman. Sex and friendship, yes. But probably never anything more than that. I find women that I am very sexually attracted to, but I can’t see anything going beyond the friendship stage with some sweaty sheet time mixed in.

When I lived in California, I had a friend; we’ll call her M. M was living with a man; I was living with a man. We were all friends and spent a lot of time together. M and I were very affectionate with each other, and did have a couple of forays into the sexual arena (with or without the men). To this day, she’s one of my closest friends, and I look on our time together fondly. But it was what it was – sex and close friendship, tied up in … rope *grin

So, maybe I *am bisexual but not biamorous? Is that even a word?

Call me crazy, but I like men. I like the way they smell and the way they feel. Even when they drive me completely insane, men are where it’s at for me as far as anything longer than a hot, sweaty encounter or weekend is concerned.

I used to think that I’d like to be one of those people who see past gender, to the soul of the person. To be able to have a relationship with a man – or a woman – and have them be the same thing. But I don’t think that’s true anymore. I used to think my inability to do that was wrapped up in my upbringing (good catholic girl *grin) but I don’t think that’s true either. I think I’m just wired to enjoy sex with either gender, but when it comes down to it, I want to wake up next to a guy with a scratchy chin and a hairy chest.

Take a Hint

Several years ago, a man named Dr John Gray wrote a book that most people started taking as a bible for relationships. "Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus" took off like a shot and made Dr Gray a very wealthy man.

This is not to say that his book doesn't have merit; it does. I read it shortly after it came out (in my never-ending attempt to understand just exactly WTF men are thinking sometimes....) and I did enjoy it, and gain some insight from it.

However, as with all other "self-help" books, just reading it isn’t enough. You have to actually start to use the information in your life for it to mean anything.

I have, to a certain extent. But there are just some things that are ingrained in the psyche of most women. Things that it takes a great deal of dedication and energy to overcome. I speak of one thing in particular here - one thing that I have not yet "learned" well enough to put into consistent practice, but a thing that rears it's ugly head for me quite often.

I've expounded on the beauty of subtly many times in this blog. And I would never take a word of that back; each and every word of it is true. But! Women and men I think process subtly differently. Hence, the problem herein:

Men do NOT take hints.

I know this. I'm a pretty smart woman and I've been around the block a time or two. And yet, even knowing it, I continue to do it; I drop a hint, and am disappointed when it's not picked up on. I was looking on the web earlier for a suitable quote to go with this post, and instead I found very wise words from a message board:
---------------------------------------------------------------

Originally posted by xxx:

If you drop me a hint about something, it will never happen. Men don't do hints. If we spot 'em, we ignore 'em.

*phew* happy to know I'm not the only one who ignores the hints he does receive.

It's not because I want to be ignorant -- I just don't want to run the risk of misinterpretation, which is always inevitably far worse than not noticing at all.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Shit, is THAT it? Are y'all even more afraid of being wrong that we are? *smirk*

Anyway...

What defines a "good girl" is different today than it was 50 years ago. Hell, it's different than it was 5 years ago. But our mothers raised us to be good girls. (Those of us who were lucky enough to have those kinds of mothers, that is). They raised us to be strong but soft; independent but not arrogant. They raised us to believe that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar, and that if you want something, there is always a better way to get it than being demanding. And that there were prettier ways to get your way than being completely blunt.

As much as I love my mother, they're all wrong on that last count. At least, in the year 2007.

Most of the time, you have to be blunt. You have to be as brutally honest and as candid as you can possibly be if you expect any sort of result at all. Doing so comes with risk. But not doing so comes with the almost certainty that you've going to be left waiting -- for action, for answers, for affection, for attrition. If you don't ask or tell, apparently, you simply do not *get. Yes, when you ask directly you take a chance of not getting the answer/affection/action you're asking for. But chances are you aren't going to get it by dropping little hints either.

I'm better at this than I used to be. But I'm still not good at it. Perhaps my frustration will make me good at it. Only time will tell I suppose. It’s just one of those things you have to put into practice.

I can think of a lot better things I’d rather be practicing *grin. But I guess this will have to do for now.

Before I end this, I wanted to quote this part of the message again:

I just don't want to run the risk of misinterpretation, which is always inevitably far worse than not noticing at all.

and ask….

Is it? Is being wrong worse than frustrating someone who’s trying to communicate with you? Maybe I just need some examples. I see a google search in my future~

Various

Random things ....

I am now 16 pounds from my goal. I think I mentioned earlier this week that I kicked my exercise in the ass the last few weeks, and it seems to be paying off finally. They aren't lying when they say you need diet AND exercise for the last 20 pounds. I love my bike, but I may start looking for a dance class or something similar to occupy another couple days a week. Maybe a bit of strength training as well.

I got a hair cut this week. Nothing drastic. Maybe a half-inch off the length. I was willing to sacrifice that for some layers, because frankly, layers means I can get a little sloppier than having to straighten it every time I wash it :p The woman who cuts my hair is awesome. She knows I'm paranoid about losing length so she does her best to give me what I want without taking off too much. I've said it before and I'll say it again, my hair is my one true vanity.

I haven't worked much on my story idea, but as I was falling asleep last night, another layer of it came to me. I'm not one of those people that keeps a notebook by the bed, but I really should. Typically I have awesome ideas as I'm falling asleep - when my mind is completely open - and it's hit or miss if I lose them by morning.

I'm headed for Philadelphia Memorial Day Weekend to visit with some friends and throw a baby shower for one of them. I'm really looking forward to this trip. I have great friends. I wish I got to see them more often. I got a mileage card for Midwest Express (who I usually fly to Philly/East Coast) and my dad transferred their airline vouchers from their AZ trip from Midwest to me to use, so I'll have 2 cheap flights out there this summer later on - yay! I also have enough miles on US Airways to get a free flight anywhere in the country. Sweet!

That's all the tidbits. More to write. Work now, write later~

Glimpses

I was running a little late this morning. For some reason, I woke up several times during the night last night. That's not typical for me, I usually sleep very well, especially when I've been exercising (which I got back to this week).

Anyway, I just opened up my closet and grabbed pretty much the first thing I saw, which was a man's button down white shirt. (Not a suit-shirt, more of a casual shirt, but long sleeved with a full collar and all). I threw it on with my black jeans and went on about my morning, not really giving it much thought. I work in a casual office. I am thankful for that every day *smile*

About midmorning , I went outside for a few minutes. I was standing in front of the window by my desk, and I caught my reflection in it. And then I grinned.

My friend R told me many years ago that the sexiest thing a woman could wear (for him) was a man's shirt, panty-hose and heels. And nothing else. Something about all that femininity wrapped up in the masculinity of the shirt, and the contrast thereof really does it for him. Thinking on it, I still owe him a picture.... *smirk*

That whole train of thought came back to me as I glanced at my reflection this morning. It must be a popular theme, all things considered, and not just for R. If you look at lingerie sites (not that I ever would...*whistle), under the costume section, there are several that have small touches of masculinity - ties, shirts, cuffs, hats - never enough to be androgynous, but just enough to really offset the femininity of the person wearing it.

I'm really not a girly-girl. I'm not masculine, either, and I've never not enjoyed being a woman, but I'm not all pink and made-up and hair fluffed to within an inch of it's life. I wear mostly jeans (women's jeans, not men's :p). Boots (black ankle boots with a zipper, again, women's). Rarely do I wear make-up unless I'm going out for something big, or unless I just feel like it. Same with perfume.

Most of the time, I'm thankful for that, because it's much cheaper being me :p

But even without the over-coiffed hair and the high heels, I make this shirt look pretty good *grin* And honestly I think that's the whole point. Feeling good in your clothes is the key to looking good in your clothes. And feeling sexy is priceless.

Combining Worlds

I've made no secret of the fact that I enjoy fantasy novels. Anne Bishop, Kate Forsyth, George RR Martin...books based on games I've played. I've started several stories of my own in this genre, but I've never been able to get past 100 pages with any of them. I think because I've tried to keep them strictly in that realm, and haven't allowed my other "interests" to cross over into them in any major way. For a long while, I've been contemplating a fantasy book that had BDSM themes. I've had trouble coming up with a concept for this story, but that's probably more because I hadn't found the right idea yet.

I may have hit on one this morning. We'll see.

It certainly would be a boon for me to start writing again. My "fiction" light has been out for awhile and I miss the warmth of it. And if I'm able to find a way to combine both of my favorite genres - well, what a happy girl I would be then :)

I'm trying to sketch it out on paper right now. We'll see if I can push past that stage. Though considering my writing 'block' the last week or so, it may be awhile before I get past the planning part.

Struggling

....and not in a fun way, either.

I’ll admit it. I’ve been struggling a bit to write lately.

I don’t really have a good reason for that. I mean, nothing earth shattering has happened to me. I didn’t have any major epiphanies or tragedies in my life recently. But while the urge to write is very strong, the ability to do so is not. I had a list to write about when I got home from vacation (travel time = blogger topics) but none of them seem to be flowing for me, and rather than force it, I’ve just kind of let them be.

I block easily. If one part of my life feels stifled for whatever reason, it usually carries over into all parts of my life. Being unable to write is usually a good indication to me that I have some thing that needs looking at elsewhere. And I’ve been looking. But I’ve yet to find any one major thing that would be doing it. There are, however, a couple of little things that may be chaining me up. (and not in a happy fun way either)

I intend to get through those this week, and will hopefully be back to the less philosophical aspects of life soon *smile.

Informed Risk - The Intellectual, Vanilla End

Every week, I get an email column from Jack Rinella. Jack is Old School BDSM, and has a way with words and ideas without being haughty and condescending. I typically look forward to reading his column, even though if he's talking about physical activities, chances are they're not something I'd be interested in. (You can subscribe to Jack's column for yourself here)

This week, Jack talked about fear.

"Fear forbids living in the moment, savoring and enjoying the present. That is the cost of fear as it drags us to continually fear the future, living in a time not yet come"

The first part of that paragraph is something I am just learning how to do. The second part is where I spent the biggest part of my life.

The fact of the matter is, I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow, and neither do you. How can you really plan for something that you can't foresee? It's much easier to enjoy yourself in the now when you aren't worried so much about the next. And yes, of course you should plan for your future and such. But letting that future affect each and every thing you do right now - here - today - isn't healthy, either.

Risk is a semi-new concept for me. I should say, rather - that "informed risk" is new.

I did a lot of stupid things in my teens and twenties. I took a lot of risks with my physical and emotional self. A few of those risks paid off but for the most part, they did not. When people ask me why I married my first husband, the answer is simple: he posed NO risk. Curt was the "nice guy" (when he wasn't loaded). He had the job, the car, the house, the family. He didn't argue with me, he did as I asked him to do, and was actually quite submissive for the most part for the first three years we were together. He loved me, and he posed absolutely no risk to my physical or emotional self. Apparently, at the point that I married him, I had had enough risk taking.

When we split, and I had moved to Wyoming and then California, I began to take small risks again. Baby steps. But I never got that far, because before I knew it, the risks went out the window and I was back together with C (my current almost ex husband, not to be confused with Curt, my first ex husband - STFU) and feeling very safe yet again.

So now, nearly three years after separation and hopefully less than 2 months from final goddamn divorce papers, I've started taking some risks again. Slowly. Dipping my toe in, so to speak. I don't feel all that fragile right now, so taking a few emotional risks has been healthy for me. How long that lasts, I don't know, but I really am trying to concentrate more on what I want and need RIGHT NOW than what I think I might want and need in five years. But I'm also being careful. Which means that I'm not jumping wildly into the fray without some solid information in my grasp. I am much more willing to take these risks when I am informed of exactly what the risk is.

It's funny. I've typically been the pursuer in relationships. Not at first, but once that door is open, I've never minded being the one who puts the majority of the energy into a relationship to make sure it continues and flourishes. Last year, on my last trip to VA to see C, I said to him that I was *not* going to be doing that with him anymore. And if he wanted to see me, it was up to *him to ask me to come see him. I felt very comfortable with that, and even though it's the opposite of the risk taking I'm used to, it's still taking a risk. I left it up to him. And you know what? He didn't disappoint me. I knew that he wouldn't return that risk, and he hasn't so far. Which basically told me everything I needed to know. Surprisingly enough, it doesn't bother me in the least, and I'm very comfortable with that decision.

Sometimes, it's just better to know what you're standing on. Hence - Informed Risk.

Avoidance

When I got home tonight, I was focused on several things. I cleared out an old checking account and paid off two credit cards then promptly cancelled them. I got C’s name off my main checking account and unhooked his account from mine. I brought some stuff in out of the car that’s been in there for weeks. For some reason, those things had to be done *right now. They were things I’ve been slacking on for far too long and I wanted them finished. I always feel better when I do that. I don’t know why I avoid things like that, knowing how good I feel once I get them done. Maybe it was just my way of putting off things that I thought were going to hurt (like slowly wiping C out of life. Not completely of course, but where it matters).

Thing is, it didn’t hurt a bit.

Maybe – just maybe – along with accepting myself this week, I accepted some basic truths about my life that I’ve put off accepting.

I’ve known C for 14 or so years. We’ve split up three times (at least) during that time. And maybe a small part of me just thought that this was another one of those times. Oh, I knew it was done. I had told him when I married him that if he ever bailed on me again, it’d be the last time, and I had *no intention of backing down off that. We are not suited for each other anymore. He has no interest in anything but his sailboat-to-be and living somewhere that it’s 90+ degrees most of the year. There is very little of what he was when we met left. And to be honest, I’m sure as shit not what I was 14 years ago, either. We are both different people. It happens.

But maybe, in the back of my mind, I thought. …And I may well have gone on thinking that except for one thing.

This is all about me now (my Happy Bunny calendar says so!). And I want this all done – for me. I have things to do. I have places to go and people to see and I’m not going to continue to live this non-existence just to be ‘the good girl’ anymore.

My vacation gave me some perspective. If for no other reason, it was money well spent.

The Value of a Secret

Is there anything as delicious as walking around with a little secret?

I have always loved that feeling. Back in California, M used to sometimes send me to work in a dress with thigh high hose under it, and nothing else. It was like this little secret between he and I all day. We’d email back and forth, flirty stuff, and by the time we both got home from work, it was like 9 hours of continuous foreplay. Even if he was going to be out of the office that day, and we didn’t speak, just walking around like that, knowing that I was naked under whatever flowy-skirted dress I’d put on that day, and no one knew it but me was completely – delicious.

I left my vacation with a similar secret – hence the grinning – and I can’t seem to shed that feeling yet.

Did they people on the plane wonder about the grin? Did the airline employees and airport workers marvel at my politeness and my thank-you for every little tiny thing they did? Was my enchanted mood that obvious?

Do people at work now wonder why I’m wearing light turtleneck sweaters when it’s 65 degrees outside? Do they wonder why they catch me smiling like a Cheshire cat walking down the hallway? Do they care? Do I?

I’m someone who takes an occasional risk. But the giant leap of faith that I took on this trip was something that two years ago I could not have ever done. While I’ll admit that my friend’s confidence boost (see: I get it) aided that, the fact is, the plan was set into motion weeks ago – before that even happened.

I realize I’ve used this word several times in my last few posts, but the fact is, I feel empowered. It’s wonderful to want, not need. It’s phenomenal to not care about things that I was always *sure you were supposed to care about. And it’s amazing to be able to share that feeling with all reaches of your life, and all the people around you, without sharing a thing.

Hence the secret.

Why I’m happy isn’t anyone’s business.

The fact that I am happy, renewed, invigorated, confident, sassy, sexy and whole – these things are everyone’s gain.

I get it.

Side note: Been a while since I was chomping at the bit to get home so I could write. *grin. For someone with a creative soul, that’s a beautiful thing.

I spent the biggest part of my little vacation with friends in Virginia. While I’ll admit that it was odd to get off that plane in Newport News and know that C wasn’t there (he’s at his Dad’s house, fixing it up supposedly). Since 2002, he’s been there, and when I’ve flown in and out of there, it was to see him first and foremost. It was actually a bit empowering that this trip was selfishly and completely for me.

Anyway. Whenever I go to stay with anyone, or am hanging out with someone new, I tell them about the band. Not to brag about my weight loss or anything; but because the fact of the matter is, I eat – weird. Sometimes I can eat more than other times, but typically there are some things I can eat, and some I can’t eat. It’s just a fact. So I feel the need to explain so they don’t think I a) am rude, b) don’t like their food, or c) have some kind of eating disorder.

So I go into my whole spiel about the surgery and one of my friends looks at me and says something to the effect of – he can’t imagine me ‘big’ because I have always been ‘little’ since we met.

Little? LITTLE? Did the man say L I T T L E ?????

First time in my life, ever, I heard myself referred to as *that. And I gotta tell ya. If that’s not a huge boost of confidence, nothing is. I’m still high from that today I think. And to be completely honest, that one sentence made the rest of my trip so much easier and even more empowering than before.

That’s just part of the reason I’m still grinning like a fool. (Eventually I'll tell you the rest of the reason. Patience~)

I mean, all right. I’m not “little”. I’m a size 12, which is one size below the national average for women. My chest is still too big to fit into most of the “cute” shirts at the mall, and my legs definitely need some work. But compared to where I was two years ago? In clothing sizes, I am half of what I was. And 57% of the weight I was at. Some mornings I am absolutely awestruck by that. The last two days I’ve worn sweaters to work that I wouldn’t have worn a couple weeks ago even, because they actually fit, and I still tend to wear clothes too big. (I’d have worn them with another sweater or a shirt over them, but not on their own). I’m starting to fit into my body again. That’s a marvelous feeling.

The best part? Is that it carries into all other parts of my life. Work, writing, home, relationships. I finally – finally! – saw myself through someone else’s eyes this weekend and I’m blown away by what I found there.

On the band message board I belong to, the people talk about an “ah-HA” moment in their weight loss where they finally ‘get it’.

I got it.

And baby do I intend to use it~

Subtly yours

I've never made any secret about the fact that subtle dominance makes me weak in the knees.

Not that I'm opposed to larger displays of dominant behavior. Not at all. But subtle hints of it at unexpected times just do something to me akin to that little spot right at the top of a roller coaster hill....

I forget from time to time why I enjoy that. Until it presents itself to me. And the slightest hint of a dominant nature from someone I'm spending time with makes me shudder and whimper inwardly from a simple phrase, action or request. Then I remember why I call myself a submissive woman and why I still pursue this lifestyle.

There are many levels to the kind of d/s you can have in your life. Not every level is right for every person, all things considered. People with busy work schedules, family obligations, etc - probably couldn't be at a Master/slave mentality all the time. While I'm a big advocate of mingling your sexual being into your life in all ways possible, some ways are just not possible, nor appropriate.

I see the levels working something like this:

Subtle: Mostly sexual in orientation, subtle d/s is more about mindset and occasional glimpses of power than it is about whips and chains. This is a private d/s - one shared between two people. It's more about making your heart leap up into your throat than it is about outward exhibitions of direct domination. This is easily accomplished in both public and private, because unless someone was very kink-aware, they wouldn't recognize the signs of it as anymore than a normal relationship in which one person has been designated leader and the other follower. Not to say that there's no spanking or hair pulling here, quite the contrary. But there just isn't any "me tarzan, you jane" chest pounding on a regular basis. When it rears it's head, you feel it clear down to your toes.

More Direct but Less Often: Again with a heavy emphasis on the sexual side of d/s, this type of relationship does involve perhaps many less subtle signs of dominance, but is not present all the time. Handcuffs in the bedroom, blowjobs in the shower, perhaps even in the car *grin. It involves two people who feel the depth of their respective d or s, but reserve acting on those feelings for times when it's approrpriate or time permits. The difference between this and the subtle d/s above isn't that great - but it's more of a straightforward action rather than a sneaking-up sort of thing.

More Direct, More Often: This is probably where I would place most of the people that I know in the lifestyle. They take their d/s seriously, and extend it out past the bedroom into their every day life, but not so much as it would become apparent to people not in the lifestyle or in the "know". Maybe she calls him Sir as opposed to his name as a rule. Maybe she wears a chain or "dress collar" all the time. Maybe she asks permission to masturabate. The outward signs of the relationship are much more 'in your face' to people who are privy to the details of it. Whips, chains, paddles and cuffs oh my :p

All d/s, All the Time: This is people who live the d/s lifestyle all the time. While they don't shove their relationship down the throats of vanilla folk (at least I'm hoping they don't), they don't go out of their way to hide it, either. It's full-time, all the time. Lots of people profess to live this way, but frankly I've only met a few who really do.

Having said all that, everyone has to find their own way. Having been in all four of those kinds of relationships in the past, I know that I would really struggle with the last one at this point in my life, and probably the second to last one as well. Not to say that I will never be there again, but right now, I'm just not.

Nice Guys Don't....what?

I found this page the other day while surfing around for something else entirely (I was looking for some information on biting), and thought I'd share it. I've known several men over the years that this fits to some extent, and since the info is there, it should be shared :)

Domination for Nice Guys

I'll admit, I giggled a bit as I read it, but the guy who wrote it certainly has some of the good boys I've known pegged. I guess I find the whole thing interesting simply because I'm a former good girl. Maybe the whole transition into complete and total abandon was easier for me because while I'm breaking all my former feminist rules, I'm not really breaking any of society's rules. I do realize that men do, in the dominant role. You aren't supposed to hit us. You aren't supposed to bite, pinch, slap us. You aren't supposed to call us nasty names and push us up against walls. You aren't supposed to want to do those things either.

But some of us would be so disappointed if you didn't :)

It's a good read for the mildly curious or the mildly hesitant.

Distractions

I had a little vacation. I think I needed it more than I knew I needed it before I left. I got to see friends and ride roller coasters and drink sangria. I got to meet new people, laugh over old jokes, and walk til my feet ached.

And that was just the first half of the trip /wink

Maybe we’ll talk about the second part of it when I quit grinning.

Anyway, I traveled yesterday. I had about a 3 and a half hour drive just to get to the airport. Then many hours of airports and planes. Then another hour and a half drive home from Milwaukee. What’s that mean? Lots of think time.

I was thinking back yesterday afternoon on the plane from Newport News to Atlanta, with my iPod full blast on some very solid favorite old songs, about some of the people who’ve passed through my life over these years. Two specifically came to mind – and with them came something that they’d referred to me as – and how a person or two over the last few years have referred to me in much the same way.

I am a distraction.

My friend Johnny was the first person to refer to me as that in my early 20’s. He was in a relationship that he didn’t really want to be in. My presence, and the sexual chemistry between us were distracting to him. At least he said it with a grin on his face *smirk. I was his “Sister Golden Hair” (oh go look it up, it’s a song by America)

Two that came after him used the same word, unprompted. I’d forgotten about that for the longest time. But the fact that I can be distracting has come up again recently.

I don’t do it on purpose. But I’m basically a very candid person. If I think something, and I feel safe in saying it, I’ll say it. My mind doesn’t pay attention to the clock. It doesn’t follow any sort of calendar. It just *is. I’ve thought about taming it. But I’ve been told that it doesn’t really matter if I say it or not. I guess I’m as transparent as tissue paper *laugh.

It used to upset me when people who considered me as a distraction would avoid me sometimes, but now I guess I can understand it for what it is. I’ve been known to avoid discussions with people for the same reason.

It’s all fun until you get so worked up at inappropriate times you feel like going somewhere private and spending quality time with your sexual needs *laugh

I do take it as a compliment, which I guess is all that really matters. And I do try to be appropriate when it’s called for.

But sometimes…. Sometimes it’s just more fun to be.

*clears throat*

re: This Post about oral sex

I stand corrected.

/smirk

Orally Yours?

It's never been a secret that I can take oral sex or leave it (on myself). Whether it's because my partners in the past just sucked at it (no pun intended), or there's just really something in me that doesn't care about it, I dunno. But it's never been high on my priority list, and if given a choice, I'd probably find something else I'd prefer to do.

While C enjoyed getting a blow job, he rarely if ever could get off on it. And he's not alone. I've heard the same complaint from various partners/friends over the years. For many men, it just doesn't *work* to get them to an orgasm. They enjoy it - the sensations are erotic and pleasurable, but it doesn't push them over the edge. For many men these days, it's just foreplay. Personally, I'm fine with that.

Not all men feel that way, mind you. There are still many that *can and *do get off with their cock in a nice warm mouth.

I have to wonder if it isn't less of a physical reason perhaps and more of a mental one. Physically this could be explained away by lips not being as hard/tight around the shaft as say - a hand - and if someone masturbates frequently (C did), maybe the 'sensation' simply wasn't enough. But mentally, perhaps head has become normal, and people simply don't find it nearly as 'dirty', and hence, not as much fun.

It's just all very interesting. I mean, it is, if you ponder this stuff as much as I do.

"Screaming Inside"

I dug into my closest last week and pulled out a couple copies of my book to take with me "out of town" this weekend. One is going to a friend who's kinky. The other is going to a friend who's literary. We'll see where I get the best impressions *grin

I thumbed through one copy of it Saturday night and while it makes me incredibly proud to have put together such a thick volume of BDSM verse, it also makes me a little sad that the company that published it went out of business, and if I want it republished, I have to shop it around.

For anyone who doesn't have a clue what I'm talking about, the book information is here (Screaming Inside by Kanthra Adaire). Again, as the publisher is out of business, the only remaining unsold copies may well be in my closet. I'd love to get motivated enough to republish it. I'd also like to add a volume of short stories to it. I have more than enough that are still unpublished to fill a book or two.

It also makes me sad because most of those poems were written during a very different part of my life, and I remember each and every feeling that was in play when each of those prose were written. It's not that I don't think I could ever get that back. It's just that I'm somewhat jaded these days, and I trust much less than I ever have in my life. Coming out of the relationships I've come out of in the last 13~ years, I can't fault myself on the trust issues. But I don't have to like them much either.

I didn't read them all all the way through, just picked bits and pieces of them to read. Some of them are rough, some sweet, some dripping with the kind of sexuality you only get from really sensual sex-scenes *grin*. Some of them are twisted, some evil, some downright wicked. But they are all me.

Or were, when I wrote them.

And despite the feelings I may or may not have about trust and faith and hope -- they are *all still me, somewhere.

I got a copy out for myself and put it next to my bed. Perhaps reading through so many years of my life again will inspire me.

Or at least tone the screaming inside down to a whimper *smile

Pack-Ratting Pays off sometimes...

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Spank a smile onto your face

So, I got pointed to an article about a study down in Australia that says that men who are involved in a relationship in which spanking plays a part are happier generally as people.

You can read the article here. Spanking fetishes make men happier - study

I found it very interesting. *smirk

There was a quote in particular that struck a chord with me.

People who engaged in the habit were more likely to be sexually adventurous in other ways, like trying anal sex and phone sex, looking at internet pornography or using sex toys.
“These are people for whom sex is a hobby,” Dr Richters said.

So I asked myself. Is sex a hobby for me? Even when I’m not having any?

You know, maybe it is. I always said that if I went back to school, I’d major in psychology with an emphasis in sexual behavior. Sex and all things related to sex fascinate me. I enjoy adult stores, I enjoy lingerie shopping. I read a lot of erotica and I write a lot of erotica. I call myself a kinky little bitch because there’s very little in the sexual arena that’s off limits for me. (I’ll try almost anything twice, just in case I missed something the first time …). As long as it doesn’t offend me physically, morally, legally or intellectually, chances are I’ll give it a shot.

I can call it a hobby though, because it doesn’t run my life. I don’t have sex just for the sake of having sex (well, not for many years anyway :p). Thinking about sex or fantasizing doesn’t keep me from having a normal life. I work, I have family, I have friends. I don’t spend hours looking for a “fix”. And while it’d be nice to be having more than I am, it’s not something I’m willing to risk my job, my family, or my mental health for.

I think the article is onto something about people who engage in activities other than straight vanilla sex being happier and more comfortable with themselves. When at some point in my twenties I accepted the fact that I wasn’t going to be satisfied with generic sex for the rest of my life, something inside me broke, and I felt better about the deviant little thoughts that crept into my head more and more. It’s not easy to accept it. But once I did, it really was freeing, as cliché as that sounds.

I’ve never really considered my sexual interest a hobby before. I wonder if there’s a tax write off for that….

Grading Curves

Contrary to popular belief, I do have interests outside d/s and sex /wink

I've spoken here often enough about my lap band. I belong to a couple of message boards for that subject, too. Most of the time, beyond talking about the trials and tribulations of learning to live with the band, there isn't much exciting to discuss, but recently a subject came up that relates to some of my other interests (sex), and I found the discussion interesting.

When you're 'bigger than normal' or 'bigger than society finds normal' (whatever), you're usually not thinking about things related to your body that women of 'normal size' would be thinking about. These things don't enter your mind. You know what your flaws are, and so does anyone else who looks at you dressed.

But as you get closer to normal size, and you feel pretty damn good dressed up, those other insecurities tend to creep in. If you've been heavy almost all your life like I have, there are not things you've ever had to worry about before. You may not have liked how you looked naked, but you had accepted it at least.

Once you get closer to your goal weight (I'm about 15 pounds from mine now), you start to notice a myriad of other things. (I'm not going to list or discuss them. I do have some things I keep personal :p). And those things lead to a whole new brand of insecurities.

"Why don't I look as good naked as I do dressed?"

The men on our board pretty much think we're crazy. Some of them are banded; some of them are spouses of banded women. But they all think that we've completely lost our minds feeling insecure about some of these issues.

Society tells us that to be attractive to men, we have to look like super models. Okay, rational women everywhere (me included) *know that this is total bullshit. Nine times out of ten, if *we are confident and comfortable with how we look, our weight, size, etc don't make a damn bit a difference to a man who finds us appealing. But those images creep in. And any woman in my situation who does not admit to feeling insecure about the issues that come from losing 100+ pounds is lying. I think that it's because we were SO far from it before, and now we're closer to it than maybe we've ever been, that those insecurities tend to peek out and poke us when we least want them to.

For instance, I've made no secret of my lingerie addiction. It's gotten much worse over the last year or so, as I've been able to buy much more 'normal' size lingerie. I love the stuff. I love how it feels, I love how it looks, I love the purpose of it, and the idea of what it will provoke *grin*. I've bought a lot of it recently. And bought it with confidence. Rationally, I know that no one expects me to look like the skinny little bitch that's modeling the stuff on the website. But irrationally, occasionally - I do expect that.

I have to remind myself that I feel awesome compared to what I was 2 years ago. I look better, I feel better, I'm healthier than I have ever been in my life. I am much more accepting of myself - flaws and all.

But there is still this tiny voice that comes into the back of my head ..... If I catch it fast enough, I just bash it over the head with a baseball bat and shut it up *grin*. And if I don't, I'm left with an uneasy feeling for a day or two.

The point is, I guess, that as is typical with most people, we are much harder on ourselves than anyone else would be on us. While I've gained a lot of ground in that respect, I'm still not to a point where I can say that I'm 100 percent happy with where I am.

But I'm at about 85 percent. And I'm pretty happy with a B. *smile*

Freak!

Ever notice that a significant amount of submissives are control freaks?

Yes, I am one, too about a lot of things in my life. My home, my finances, and most recently my diet.

What makes a control freak a good submissive?

We're damn tired of being in control of everything, and we're typically ready to give it up at the drop of a hat. At least, control over some things....

I know that there are a lot of dominants that are control freaks, too. And in most cases, it makes them studious and demanding Masters. But it occurs to me that many of them aren't as well. And those that consider themselves mostly sexually dominant aren't typically in the control-freak group.

(I should note here, and it should be obvious, that I do not consider control-freak to be a negative term, unless it's obviously risen to a pathological level of freakiness)

(I should also note that I do not consider a sexually dominant man to be less than a dominant man who exerts control outside the bedroom. Different, not equal, but not better or worse)

As a matter of fact, it's been my experience that most sexually dominant men (meaning those men who's dominance almost always revolves around sex, and very rarely makes an appearance outside of that area) are more likely to be neutral or even submissive outside of sexual interaction. They are "nice". They treat people with respect generally and are mostly polite and congenial. They may even be taken for a submissive male at first glance, because they don't wear a commanding aura of dominance on their sleeve. It's about taking control when *they want it, not when someone else wants it, or someone else things they *should take it. This is a bad match for someone who needs more than that. But for someone who's really only interested in being controlled in certain aspects of their life, it's a perfect fit.

For me, being in control of my health, finances and my diet are of utmost importance to me right now. Being so focused on some of those things is exhausting. So I'd be more than willing to give up control of some other parts of my life for periods of time, if for no other reason than to stop thinking about them so hard. That allows me to retain my freakiness and still get my need to submit fulfilled.

It's no secret that I over think everything. But when you're trying to decide what you really want in your life, it's nearly mandatory to do so. And as I sift through emails from the message boards I frequent, from prospective dominants, it's nice to be able to say - "that's not for me" and be done with it, instead of having to wade through the minutiae every time.

To Tie, or Not to Tie

Someone said to me recently (not a direct quote, I didn't write it down and my mind may not have been completely on it at the time *grin*), in discussing bondage, that for me it probably wouldn't be necessary. (What, implying that I am a good girl and do as I'm told? Blasphemer!)

Necessary, no probably not. I have been posed, positioned, directed and placed several times throughout my d/s explorations. Sometimes it's easier than others, and resisting the "Fight or flight" impulse tends to take all of my focus, depending on what's going on. Then again, I'm a big fan of having something to focus on. But it does leave little room for anything else.

There's also the added bonus of having a bit more mental dominance than simply being cuffed up to sit/stand/lay where I have to. Somehow being 'told' to do something - sometimes - has a different effect than being 'made' to do something.

I dunno. I like both, for different reasons. It's easier for me to talk myself out of mental bondage than it is physical bondage. It's a conscious choice with mental. You either do it, or you don't. Because I have the insane desire to please (and not disappoint) most of the time, the choice isn't really a choice, but it is.

Then again, I really do like the feel of something around my wrists. Rope, leather, hand.... *smirk. But that removes the choice (ok, yes, there's always a choice but if I'm there willingly, I'm there willingly, right?) and it gives me something to fight physically against instead of mentally.

We're back to the challenge again then.

I was at the Power Exchange in San Francisco one night with a very good friend of mine (and one of my favorite tops). I had taken him to a ZZ Top/Lynard Skynard concert in Oakland earlier that evening (having bought the tickets to take M before M and I split up), and on the way from his house to the concert, we'd had a discussion about the difference between topping and dominating. (If I've related this story already, I apologize). When asked directly what the difference was, I thought for a moment, and then explained it as -- if you're topping me, and I tell you I hate riding crops, you wouldn't use one. If you're dominating me, and I tell you I hate riding crops, you'd use one if you felt like it, whether I liked them or not. (Yes, you see this coming don't you?). We get to PE, and we're playing, with me bent over some sawhorse thing, unbound. I heard it pop behind me, and knew what he had in his hand. Yes, a fucking riding crop. He laughed. I laughed. And then he told me to stay still and hit me with it.

And I did stay still. Partially because he'd told me to, but also partially because I wanted him to "get" the difference. He was playing with his dom side, and I was happy to participate. Submitting to someone who wasn't quite sure if he was "there" or not was fun, and I wanted him to get the full experience of it.

(To be fair to him, he didn't use it that long, but he definitely understood the difference. And I played with him, as a dominating top many time after this)

Physical bondage for many people is more about ornamentation and looks than actual "no moving". It can easily serve both purposes, but I know many submissives who just enjoy being tied up because of how it looks and the mindset attained while the actual rope bondage is being put in place. For others, physical restraint is about being able to fight it, without it being dangerous. And yet others use it to simply not be able to fight, period.

Sometimes, the simple act of snapping on a pair of police issue hand cuffs is enough. (C had two sets of these *grin*). I spent many evenings watching TV just with those cuffs in place and nothing more. It definitely lends itself to headspace (mmmmm...headspace) and if the dominant is turned on by the bondage (C was), it's all good.

On the other hand, bondage is too much like work for some dominants. I know it was for M. He liked the look, but it was too much work for him to really want to get into it. It was easier for him to just say "stay" and have me do it.

It's a whole rainbow of stuff to consider, isn't it? A big old red/white/black and blue rainbow of choices and fun to have.

I am not infallible

I should say this. I'm not infallible.

And I do say this, because I got reminded of that recently.

I know I ramble on and on about using your common sense and keeping your guard up and not trusting too easily. And I get to do that. Because I'm been on the bad end of that stick before.

I got an email the other day on one of the message boards I visit. I'd seen him posting, but I wasn't entirely sure it was him because the state wasn't right. (omg people move!). But when I saw his name in my email box, before I opened it, I knew it was him.

He came to rescue me once out of a pretty hairy situation. I don't know how far he had to drive or how much notice he got, but I do know it was in the middle of the night, and my safe call contacted him. He came to pick me up, took me back to his house and put me on his sofa. I have never forgotten it. It was my first - and only - real lesson in "you get what you pay for" in meeting people online.

And that's probably why I *do ramble on and on about being safe and smart. Not everyone is going to get as lucky as I did. Not everyone is going to have a safe call who knows people who will drive across a state to pick you up in the dark of night, and then give you a sofa to sleep on.

So if you think I'm just typing to see my words in print, you're wrong. I know from which I speak. I am the lesson you don't have to learn yourself. I am your bad example.

I am not infallible.

But I'm damn cute /wink

(thank you, MH *smile*)

Challenge

I like a challenge.

Phsyical, mental, doesn't matter. I like to be pushed. I haven't always been that way. I'd say it's probably come about in the last ten years or so more than anything. And I think it comes from the fact that I haven't been.

My relationship with C was never really challenging. He expected very little, asked for next to nothing, and besides his Navy career being an emotional drain on both of us, there wasn't much of a challenge there. His interest in d/s waned so heavily by the time we actually got married that it wasn't even present for the last several years, beyond an occasional spanking (that I nearly always had to initiate). We'd occasionally talk about doing things, but when it came to actually doing them, there was always an excuse not to.

Anyway.

I'm not someone who flourishes in "easy land" when it comes to my sexuality. Lazy sex is fun sometimes, but it's not something I'd be satisified with long term. I want a challenge. I want to have to work for it. I want to struggle mentally or better yet physically. I want to do new things, try new things, experiment with old things with new twists. Not every time. But some of the time at least.

Maybe it goes back to being "taken". Re-reading what I've just written, I'm guessing that it does, to some extent at least. But it's more than that. It's the challenge; the ability to overcome, or to surrender to something I didn't know I wanted, or to let someone else *win for a change. To say - I do not always have to be right/come out on top/get my way.

That's not easy for me. C said many times in the course of 14 years "Say those three little words I want to hear" (which meant) "You were right." (and for some reason, I absolutely hated that with him, probably because he loved it so much). I've gotten better about that. I think as my security has grown from insecurity, my ability to admit failure, mistakes and defeat has risen proportionately. That's not to say that I give up without a fight though /smile

Or maybe it's because I don't struggle and challenge because I think I'm better. I struggle and challenge because it's fun to tease, torment, wrestle, and generally be a bit of a brat sometimes. And isn't that the biggest ingredient in a vivid and fulfilling sex life? Fun? If it ain't, it should be.

Yea, it's probably the fun /wink

The things that go on

....inside my head..... *smirk*

The idea of laying on the bed, my heels on the edge, wearing some trashy piece of lingerie, thigh high stockings, my knees apart, hips raised up off the mattress, my hand buried in my cunt - getting off, and being watched while watching him, naked, standing next to the bed, between my legs.
The idea of him pulling me up by one arm/hand to sit on the edge of the bed.
The idea of him stroking his cock right in front of my face.
The idea of his hand knotted into the back of my hair, and pulling me backwards when I try to take him into my mouth - and then pulling down on my hair so that my eyes go up to meet his.
The idea that he’s playing with his cock right in front of me, but isn’t going to let me help him....
.... just that he’s going to use my mouth to keep the sheets and my outfit from getting trashed.....
...and that he’ll pull me forward again right as he’s ready to cum and push my lips apart with his cock....
...and then push halfway into my mouth so that he can cum there, where it's wet, and warm....
...and that I'd swallow him, with my eyes wide and still looking up at his face because his grip on my hair is even tighter then....
...he’s not doing it because I'd enjoy that, necessarily....
... but doing it because it's filthy and objectifying and cheap....and to *remind me ultimately....
....that when it comes to sex....
...he can pretty much do what he wants....
...and regardless of whether I like *what he does or not....
....what gets me off is that he does. And that he does it ....
....because he want to.

There is no "Have to Be" for me

More and more, I see this topic come up on message boards and email lists. For some reason, it never used to be a big discussion point, but it's apparently become The Hot Topic.

"Do you have to be in love with someone/dating someone/sexually attracted to someone to submit to them?"

For me, the short answer is no.
The longer answer is... well, longer.

I've said previously that in my life, I've had two significant d/s relationships. In addition to those, I've had some shorter-term ones - with and without sexual interaction - and some that lasted a specified period of time (night, weekend, etc). Obviously, there is no question that submission for me without a relationship is *different than with one, but that's not to say that a relationship is necessary for me *to submit, and it's also not to say that that it's any less. It's just different, that's all.

Relationships are funny things. My friend R, who I was 'tethered' to (his word) for several months following my break up with M (for my own good, he says *wink), is just that - a friend. Had I met him before C and M (well, technically I did but he wasn't single), or had the planets aligned in a different way, it's possible that I'd be in a relationship with him, or would have been. But as it stands, while there's a great deal of sexual attraction on both sides of the relationship, we are at the base of it, just very close friends.

If I feel close to someone - in other words, I trust them to be vulnerable with them - then it doesn't really matter if I'm sleeping with them, dating them or even in love with them. It's about trust for me, not a commitment of any kind. Some of the best scenes I've had have been with friends that I trusted. To be honest, there's a relative release to that that's not as easy to accomplish when you're actually "in love" or "in a serious relationship" with someone. Not to say that there aren't things that are more possible while in a relationship - there are. But again, they're different things.

Maybe it's just me. Maybe I do things differently or I think of things differently.

I prefer to think of it as unique~ /wink

Dammit

*sigh*

I so thought this was over for the year.

Disappointment

I dislike Pop Psychology books – you know, that trendy “self-help” stuff. I used to read a ton of it in my twenties and thirties and it rarely helped so now I avoid it like the plague.

But the other day I logged into my MySpace page to check a couple things, and on the login page, was a link to a book who’s name just – wow, smacked me up ‘long side the head.

“Life Doesn’t Begin 5 Pounds From Now.”

Yea. No shit, huh?

Anyway, I went to Border’s at lunch that day, and bought the book. As I suspected, it really didn’t sing to me once I’d spent the 12.95 for it – all but one quote, which was worth the drive to the bookstore and the price:

“Disappointing another to be true to yourself goes against our entire good-girl socializing and challenges us to really stick up for ourselves, often the last person we would ever defend. But if we don’t, who will?”

*smack

One of the things I used to think made me such a good submissive is the fact that I absolutely will do whatever it takes to avoid disappointing someone, no matter what the cost to myself. That’s *never healthy, I don’t give a rat’s ass who you are or what you are. The cost to ourselves isn’t singular. When we do that, we also force the people around us to pay for those mistakes/choices/decisions as well. How? By having to deal with us when we feel like absolute *shit for having made them.

I have absurdly high expectations of myself. I hold myself to very high standards behavior wise. As a perfectionist/Type-A chick, you’d expect that, yea? But the problem is, I expect other people to do the same. I hold everyone to those high, sometimes unreachable expectations. I expect other people to be as strict with themselves as I am with myself and that’s just unrealistic, and downright self-defeating. As such, I am often disappointed with people easily. And when I am disappointed with someone, I turn it back onto myself, and blame myself for thinking that whatever they did to disappoint me is my own fault.

For god’s sakes, it’s no wonder that I used to get so damn depressed so easily.

I was in a real funk last week. I haven’t been in one like that for a good six months and I’d gotten very complacent in feeling good. This one came out of nowhere and pretty much hit me like a ton of bricks. It took over and colored pretty much everything that was said to me in a six day period. I spent a good three evenings after work curled up on the couch zoned out in front of the TV (something I don’t really do anymore) feeling crappy with no energy and no enthusiasm for much of anything. I hate when I get like that. I know it, as I’m in it, and I want to get out of it, but I just can’t find that one thing that pushes me out.

It faded slowly over the weekend, and I’m feeling relatively normal (ha!) today. I’ve got some energy and some initiative (I’m writing, aren’t I?) and work went better.

As with anything else, I’m trying to still unlearn some bad habits (such as the high expectations, now that I’ve actually got a clear idea of what that entails). Difference is this week; I know I can do it.

My Tree

I moved to Wisconisin two and a half years ago. My folks live about 125 miles from me (now, before I moved in October, it was an even 100 miles), and I always take the same route to go see them.

I'd say in the past 2.5 years, I've passed this tree about 50 or so times.

I never fail to see it, and it never fails to make me smile. No matter what season, no matter if it's day or night. I always see it, and I always smile.

Driving there on Saturday for the weekend, I finally slowed down enough to snap a crappy picture of it out of my windshield with my phone.

I have no idea why I like this tree so much. It's very close to the road and it's all alone out there. But I just know I really really like this tree.

I get the same feeling about 20 miles east of Butte Montana on the interstate. I've only passed that way about 8 times, but it's the same feeling.

I'm not a tree-hugger nature freak, and never have been. But I guess it goes to show that something completely innocuous can affect us in different ways.