... not good enough

"Being better than nothing is no longer good enough."

And it makes me sick to my stomach to think that at some point in my life, it was.

Changes

Change is good. Even when sometimes it doesn't feel like it at the time, in the end it's almost always for the better.

And then some changes are good right away.

As I've written about here, at the end of May I got back into my "slightly obsessive diet and fitness program". I've been struggling for most of that time, not with keeping on it (typically when I set my mind to something like this, I don't have trouble keeping with it), but with not getting too nuts about it. I've lost over 12 pounds, which surpasses my "first" goal of 11 pounds, and I've got 10.4 pounds left to my "Normal BMI" goal.

While the scale hasn't been moving as much as I'd like (average of 3 pounds per month), I have noticed some definite changes in my body. I can actually feel my hip bones standing up. I look even more "deflated" than I have before (and my desire for the plastic surgery has returned) and my bra size has gone from a DD to a D. My face looks a little more even, too. And laying down, things feel much more 'normal' to me than they've felt before. This is all good.

Change is good.

When I feel good physically - when my body is healthy (fiber, protein, vitamins GO) and I can see and get the mental buzz from the effort I have put into getting healthier - my sex drive increases. I think nearly everyone is like that. The better you feel, physically and mentally, the more confidence you have - the sexier you feel.

Right? RIGHT!

Now if I can just stay with it for another 10 pounds, and if I could wrap my mind around tossing my Marlboro Lights for good, life would be really sweet.

Bootstraps

I was reading some of my posts from this summer, and I kid you not, I thought I was reading someone's else's words.

I am not that person. I am not someone who wallows in unhappiness. I am not someone who enjoys being unhappy or stays in a place of disarray on purpose.

I am not that girl.

While I'll admit that some outside factors - some nice stuff in other areas - have adjusted my outlook today, I still don't know why I stayed in that funk for as long as I did.

My bootstraps, they're picked up now.

Your bootstraps? Pick them up too if they're down a bit. There's nothing good that comes from feeling like shit.

House Full of Reasons

Tonight, while screwing around with my Facebook (yes I have one and myspace too shut up), I was digging around on an application called "iLike", which has music and videos and such. Always, when I find one of these, I put in a couple of artists that aren't really very popular though they consistently turn out music that I love. One of those is Jude Cole.

I was pleased to find a page for him. Very pleased. I have all of his CDs, but I clicked on a song to listen to while I messed around with something else, and one caught my eye that I really wanted to hear. "House Full of Reasons" from Jude's CD "A View from 3rd Street"

Huh.

This has been a "House Full of Reasons" around here lately, too. I think I've thrown away more ticket stubs (plane tickets, movie tickets, receipts...) and t shirts... I even put away my most prized Harley thermal shirt from Atascadero, California (one of my first after M got the bike) to give to my mom. Honestly, the shirt is way too big and my mom has always coveted it (along with my jacket which I am not quite ready to part with). I don't for a minute think that any of this has been conscious. But it's definitely been happening and I am neither worse or sad for it. I even pulled a frame out of the closet that my mom made for C and I when we got married, and I'm giving it back to her so she can re-use the frame for something else.

I've said to a couple of people that I recently that "Marriage does not agree with me" but the truth is -- maybe it's just that I've made bad choices. Okay, okay I know I've made bad choices. That doesn't mean I want to break or even tie my grandmother's trips down the aisle (three, but that's not as bad as it sounds). I'm just much more willing to admit now that I did suck in those relationships and I'm willing to bear my burden of blame for their failure but their failure is not completely my fault, either.

Fact is, though, that I'm doing some emotional and physical housecleaning and as it turns out, my house definitely needed it. And so did I.

Maybe my subconscious is making room. I hope so.

From life or fantasy

I traveled a couple weeks ago, and I always travel with one of my zillion spiral bound journals on the airplane. It seems to me that ideas of things to write about always come to me at the most inconvenient times, or at least, at times when I can’t really sit down and expound on them. So, as is typical for me, when a thought would strike, I’d write it down. I got several things to think further about, and some possibilities for story ideas. I wrote the first page of a story I’ve been working on (fantasy story, not a dirty story *chuckle).

One thing that I wrote down that I’ve been thinking about is this:

Is it easier to write from a place of experience, or complete fiction?

My erotica has always been a combination of the two. Some things I’ve done and enjoyed (or not enjoyed), and some things I’ve just fantasized about. But I think for me, the complete fiction option is the easier one. And maybe that’s why I haven’t written anything for so long – because my inspiration for new fantasies has sunk to an all time low.

I can, of course, write from real experience, and have many times. I’ve taken some things that have happened and expanded them, turning them into full-size erotic fantasy, and I’ve written things that happened, nearly verbatim.

But I think my best erotica comes from a place of complete and total fiction. Not because I haven’t had fabulous experiences in my life, but because I think that my writing totally shines when I have been inspired to think about something that I haven’t done. Whether it’s something I would actually enjoy ‘in the flesh’ or not, the idea of taking something new and making it sing to my soul, or better yet, someone else’s soul is a big part of the reason that I enjoy writing it in the first place.

When I’m not writing, it’s not because I have run out of experiences; things that I have done and enjoyed. It’s because I’ve run out of inspiration or that my life experience at the time doesn’t allow for any new inspiration to come through. And I think that’s what’s going on with me right now. I’ve just allowed so many other things to take over all of my energy and I don’t have enough left to fantasize about new things.

And I miss it. There’s nothing quite like finishing a piece of erotica for me, especially if I have to stop once or twice while I’m writing *wink. I’m hoping that I can get back to it soon.

I had a loose thought in that vein tonight. Maybe I’ll pull it off after I let it cook in my mind for awhile.

Until then, I guess I’ll just keep fantasizing about being about to fantasize…

Writer's Block

I bought a book this summer (okay, I bought a lot of books this summer but this one is different). I'm so tired of writer's block - or, at least what I'm calling writer's block. It gave a lot of helpful ideas on how to break through, writing exercises, stuff like that.

I've done some of the exercises. Or at least I've tried to.

And I'm still hitting the wall.

One thing I read in the book that really hit home is that there is almost always a reason for the block. Fear, anger, sadness, depression - there is usually a good reason the block exists, and the trick is to figure out what it is.

And that sounds very familiar to me. Because I've been sorting through some 'icky' feelings this year, and I think I got to the bottom of it. It's not completely resolved; I still haven't voiced the problem to the interested party. But I think that at least knowing what it is does help.

So can I suddenly write now? No. Not that I expected to, but it's a little disappointing nonetheless.

I'm going back to the exercises this weekend and do a couple. I'm determined to get past this. I fall asleep every night writing in my head - I have two different ideas I'm playing with and one of them is very exciting to me. I want to write them both.

And I will eventually.

But this is a step. I haven't even been writing here, and that kills me, too. Hopefully, this will work better than any writer's block exercise. Time will tell I guess.

No, I'm not writing

And that disappoints me.
Disarms me.
Depresses me.
Angers me.

Scares me.

There are reasons. Of course there are reasons. I don't feel myself. My concentration is on other areas of my life. My creativity is going into the soap pot and not out of my fingers.

I've been dealing with some emotional things that have too long gone undealt with.

This is all true, of course. Sex is pretty far down my list right now though at least I'm 'taking care' of things around here /wink.

I'm going out of town this weekend and I'm really looking forward to it. Good friends, good fun. Relaxing. Laughing. Having fun. I need this. It's imperative to getting myself back to myself.

It'll get better.
It always gets better.

I wrote an email tonight that I hope I'll have the courage to send. It's hard for me, because I really don't enjoy upsetting other human beings. But the problem is, that for so long, I avoided that in the meantime ended up doing interior damage to myself.

No more of that.
No more.
No.

So as I keep telling you I'll be back, I really will be.
I have to be.

This is who I am.
And this is where I should be.

Silence

I had a little epiphany this weekend.

Some days, I hate those things. They're like gnats, buzzing around your head that you can't quite swat away. And then when you do smash one, and you think "HA! Got you!" you end up with bug goo on your hand and ...

Well you get the idea.

I'm not very comfortable with silence lately.

I am always doing something. Playing on the computer, doing something in the kitchen (creating stuff that smells good and that has no calories...ie, soap), watching TV (currently re-watching Buffy from the beginning on DVD...and no, I don't know why, I was in the mood), reading, taking notes in one of my ten thousand little journal things I have stashed all over the house, playing with my hair .... sometimes I'm doing two of these at once, sometimes more than two ...

I know that to be able to get started writing, I need to be able to sit in silence and create.

And I can't seem to get myself to do it.

I wonder what that means.
And yes, I probably will have an answer to that, and I'd have one even sooner if....


I could sit in silence and figure it out.

Long Weekend

So, I took Friday off. My fourth day off this year. /eyeroll. Gave myself a nice long weekend to get a lot accomplished around here, and I did.

I also started going back through old bath and body recipes, and found a few things I'd really like to make again. I have a huge stash of bottles and jars and such, and it seems a shame to pitch them, so I figured maybe I'd use them up. I don't have all the ingredients, but I'll get them eventually.

Last weekend, I made a batch of soap with a local winery's wine (local to my folks'). I'm not sure how it's going to turn out, but we'll see.

I had a list of 20 things to accomplish this weekend and by the end of the weekend, they'll all be done except ...

writing /sigh

I can't get there. I'm really frustrated by that.

Also, on a completely unrelated note, even though I am no longer a 'fat chick', 'fat chick' jokes still piss me off and I'll always find a way to pummel an idiot who makes them.

I've got a batch of soap to make today, and then it's off to scrub the kitchen floor. Fun times!

I hope you had a wonderful safe holiday weekend!

And again, here's the thing

I'm typically a happy person. I am an optimistic person. I am a creative, talented, well-humored person.

For four weeks, I mired myself in misery.

That ended Thursday night.

I made a choice. A choice to be happy.

Yes, it really is that easy.

I decided that I didn't like feeling like shit, so I changed how I was feeling.

By focusing on what I do have in my life as opposed to what's wrong with it, or what I don't have -- I realized that I do have plenty to be happy about.

And then I was.

And am.

And will continue to be.

Back to normal. No more whining, I promise.

Mondays suck

I love Snoopy.

And today, this picture not only makes me laugh, it's how I'm feeling.

Dance

There's this song that my mom loves. It's country. I don't like country. But this song -- every time I hear it, even the Muzak version -- I get all choked up.

The song - "I Hope You Dance" by Lee Ann Womack - is one of those songs that gets played at weddings and Sweet Sixteen dances. My mom found little books, with a CD single of the song included, that she gave to my niece and nephew when they got old enough to understand the sentiment. It's one of those "Coming of Age"/"Have a wonderful life with no regrets" kinda songs.

I heard the Muzak version the other day at the grocery store. And as per usual, I got a little choked up. But more than that, I started to think the lyrics in my head.

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance

I danced.

Not in the grocery store, silly. Not even in my head. In my life.

Granted, from ages 18-25, I made horrible choices. I put myself in physical and mental harm's way, alienated my family and friends, destroyed trust and generally ran wild with no thought for my future.

But somehow, when I met my first husband, I started to value things that for the previous 7 years I disdained. That marriage turned to shit, but it doesn't mean that it lost it's value in what it reminded me about my life.

I got back on track (mostly) and I got serious about life.

But I didn't stop dancing. I just picked a more complimentary style.

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Living might mean taking chances
But they're worth taking
Lovin' might be a mistake
But it's worth making

I took those risks and I loved when it was a mistake and I try still very hard not to regret any of it. I try to find good in all the bad that's happened.

But I definitely danced. I danced my way to the West Coast and then to the East Coast and back to the Midwest. I danced through one serious live in relationship and an ill-conceived marriage. I danced through being a Navy Wife, a soap maker, a published erotica author, a systems analyst, a good daughter and a good friend. I lived my life with the knowledge that I could sit on the sidelines or I could dance.

So I danced.

Lately, I have not been dancing. And I miss that.

I hope you still feel small
When you stand by the ocean
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens
Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance

I don't know what took the music out of my life, or when exactly it happened. But it's time to start looking for a new CD or a new CD player. (that's a metaphor btw, I listen to most of my music on the computer ...)

I need a song.
And I want to dance.

Outlets

I think I mentioned awhile back that I had started making soap again on a small scale. If you've read here for several years, you know that I used to have a soap and candle business that I ran out of my house for awhile. I made everything I sold. And I loved making everything. I wasn't working then - C was in the Navy and gone a lot - and besides writing, soap and candles was pretty much all I did.

I promised myself during that time that if it every stopped being fun and started feeling more like a business, I'd give it up. And that's pretty much what happened. I brought most of my stuff with me to Wisconsin, and I continued to make stuff occasionally - mostly for myself and family and close friends, but my heart wasn't really in it. When I ran out of wax, I quit making candles.

But awhile back, I got the itch to make some cold-process soap. If you don't know what that means, let me spell it out as simply as possible:

Lye (yes, lye) + Water + Oils/Butters = Soap.

It's chemistry and cooking in one! Sorta.

I rarely make plain soap though. I have, but I rarely do. Typically I put essential or fragrance oils, natural colorants, and sometimes stuff like ground oatmeal or herbs in it as well.

This is a hobby for me. I'm trying to decide if I want to occasionally sell some - maybe find a local shop to carry some of it or something like that - but I'm not really sure if I want to do that.

But if I don't, that leaves one big issue: I'm going to run out of room. *chuckle*

I ended up making three batches this weekend. Last night, I measured out all three, mixed the lye/water up for all of them, so that I could just put them together this weekend when I had time. Last night, I made almond-scented with oatmeal and cinnamon in it. Today was Dreamsicle and Hot Fudge with cocoa powder. I went back to an old recipe for these, because I wasn't happy with the new one. I didn't think it was sudsy enough (creamy lather, but not sudsy. Matter of preference is all)

I also did my painting project tonight. I'm not 100% sure I'm going to like them when they're done, but at least I tried something new.

I also started writing a biography for the protagonist of the fantasy novel I'm trying to get started.

And with all of that ... I'm still stewing about what I'm stewing about. /sigh

But at least I'm being semi-productive.
Sorta.
Kidna.

Wanna buy some soap? lol

Life Lessons, Courtesy of the Verbose Chick

- Never take your first hit of acid and then let your friend put “Rocky Horror Picture Show” in the VCR. Seriously. This leads to all kinds of issues, including but not limited to sore cheeks and stomach muscles the next day from the laughter that you cannot stop. (Warning: I do not endorse illegal drugs and haven't touched them for years but this is a lesson that cannot be emphasized enough)

- In the 1980’s, the way to attract attention at a small venue rock concert (in this case, Twisted Sister), was to arrive at the concert in a borrowed hearse.

- In the 2000’s, it’s not too late to blast the CD from that Twisted Sister concert tour on your car stereo and bang your head on the way home from work.

- Long hair and lots of cleavage will take you a long ways but you might wake up and find out that they took you in the wrong direction. That’s okay. If you still have your shoes, put them on and walk your happy ass back home.

- Life is still too short for cheap, ugly underwear. Who cares if no one else is going to see it? You will.

- Losing weight will not cure all the evils in your life. It’ll just make you see them better because you’ll have a better view.

- No matter how much you try and justify it to yourself, if he treats you like shit, he’s really not worth your time.

- Treasure all of your girlfriends. You never know when you’re going to lose them or how. Enjoy them while you have them, and for fuck’s sake, never let a man come between you. He’s replaceable. She ain’t.

- Don’t be afraid to dance around your house. Who cares if the neighbors can see you?

- Music is for more than filling quiet time. One good song lyric can solve a puzzle you’ve been working on for weeks.

- Respect. Yourself.

What happens when something happens ...

So, I focus on something – oh, for the sake of argument, let’s say my Diet lol. I focus hard. I push. I track everything in a big old excel spreadsheet. I have good weeks when the scale moves. I have bad weeks when it doesn’t move. Both just keep me pushing…

But it’s not really the Diet itself that I’m so obsessed with. It never is. The diet is a distraction that I can pump all of my energy, attention, love, hate, anger and bitchiness into.

But that’s not the real issue.

I’ve been hypersensitive and extra bitchy the last couple weeks and today, it came to me why. I’m not going to discuss it here in any detail (while I know is unusual for me, but just trust me – it’s not a subject for public consumption at this point), but suffice it to say that I’m angry with myself about something that I let happen in my life.

I knew something was going on. I’m relatively self-aware, and even if I don’t know what’s going on, I typically know when something is. Maybe it’s a self-protection thing, where I keep it buried until I can actually deal with it. Maybe it’s that I occasionally prefer to put my head in the sand and ignore it. I wouldn’t be proud of that, but it’s entirely possible that I’ve done that. But it doesn’t mean that I don’t know something is up.

And when something is going up, sex goes to the bottom of my list.

I noticed the other day that I hadn’t been masturbating before bed, nor really at any other time that much. Three times last week. That’s very unusual for me. Very. And it’s a very good indication that there’s something going on in my life that I’m *not dealing with.

I haven’t written about sex. I haven’t written any sex for a couple of weeks. I haven’t been talking about sex. I haven’t been having sex.

For me, that signifies a pretty big issue.

I’m not sure how I’m going to go about getting through this issue, but I’m sure by the end of the weekend, it’ll come to me, and I’ll heal it.

Then hopefully I’ll get back to the things I really want to do.
Which is not what I’m doing now.
Or, rather
Is what I’m NOT doing now

Creating a way to happiness.

I think I've mentioned my 'stepdaughters' before. I communicate with them probably less than I'd like to but I do hear from them and they do hear from me. They mean a great deal to me, and I feel like they're one of the best things I ever let in my life.

Anyway, yesterday I got a letter from the eldest girl, who reminds me a great deal of myself at every age, and in her email, she said to me ...

"I hope you are happy."

I spent most of the day pondering that yesterday. I mean - I'm not unhappy. I'm mostly content even tho there are things in my life that I'm not yet satisfied with yet. I'm mostly positive. I'm mostly upbeat.

But am I happy?

I was still thinking about this last night. It occurred to me at some point that the times I have felt the happiest in the last year or so, I was creating something.

I was writing. I was making soap. I was cooking. I was thinking about baking. I was re-arranging furniture. I was styling my hair into something new. I was hanging stuff on the walls. I was blogging (no, really).

There are other examples.

I was actively doing something creative.

And maybe that's the key to it for me.

I've always known that creating makes me happy. Even planning creating something makes me happy. I guess I didn't realize that that is where most of my happiness comes from these days. When I'm not creating anything for long periods of time I am cranky and irritable and unhappy. My whole life hasn't been that way, and there are other things that do make me happy, but because I'm not dating and don't have a partner, those things don't exist in my world right now.

But creation does.

Last night, I looked through a baking cookbook I got from my folks' for Christmas. I love to bake. Seriously love to bake. I miss baking. I don't do it now except at Christmas, or unless it's a rare time that I'm going somewhere or someone is coming here. There were so many recipes in this book that I was dying to try, but given the lap-band and the diet I'm currently following, baking is probably not the best idea for me right now *chuckle*. But I miss it. And maybe after a couple more pounds are off, I'll go ahead and do some baking and just take it into work. I think I'd really enjoy that.

I took a trip to the craft store today. I'd seen a couple of projects on HGTV that I really wanted to try, so I bought the stuff for those. And then I also bought a gorgeous art print of a close up of a rose that says "Passion. Nothing in the world has ever been accomplished without passion."

Truly.

I've taken it all over the house, looking for the perfect place to hang it. I want to see it every day. I haven't quite decided, but I will before the night is over, I'm sure.

And I bought another scenic art print of a tree-lined dirt road that looks very ethereal. I bought it for writing inspiration. It's gorgeous.

It's nice when one innocuous heartfelt sentence from a letter from a girl -- no, woman -- that I haven't seen in many years but think of almost every day -- gives me pause, and makes me realize something very important about myself.

If I want to be happy more often, I can create my way to it.

And I think I will *smile*

Second Guessing

I hate second-guessing myself. Probably most of the heartache in my life has come from NOT doing that.

Then again, most of the love and happiness I’ve had in my life came from that, too.

Risk is a bitch. But if I can’t take them, I’m not going to get good – or bad – in my life.

I don’t listen to the radio very often. A lot of the crap that passes for music these days gets on my nerves and honestly there are only a few radio stations in Madison I can tolerate. Since I don’t have my 45 minute commute since I moved over here to this end of town, I almost always have a CD in the car rather than having the radio on. I’ll always turn the radio on when I get close to the Quad Cities to listen to WXLP The X (97x) – because that was once, and will likely always be my favorite station. But I find more often than not “Classic Rock” to most stations also includes some crap that wasn’t good when it was released and has not gotten better with age. (Yes, I am a picky little bitch about my music ~ deal with it).

Anyway. (I swear this is related to the original topic, just be patient)

I do occasionally listen to the music stations that come along with my digital cable. That’s how I discovered Tina Malia (Her Shores of Avalon CD is one of my Top 5 ever) several years back, and since then, I do tend to listen to it if I’m writing in the living room. The Soundscapes channel plays a lot of Celtic music which I adore.

But once in awhile, I flip around to some of the other stations, too. And one night, I landed on one (I honestly don’t remember which it was), and heard a song by a new artist named Colbie Calliat that I fell in love with. Some of the lyrics from the song, called “Realize” hit me right between the eyes….

“Take time to realize, that I am on your side. Didn’t I…Didn’t I tell you? But I can’t spell it out for you…no, it’s never going to be that simple …”

So why did that hit me so hard, when I just got down talking about risk and second-guessing myself and how much I abhor those two things?

Because I do them now. And I don’t think I even realized I was doing it.

“Take time to realize, this all can pass you by.. Didn't I tell you…But I can't spell it out for you….no, its never gonna be that simple….”

Over the last four years, since my marriage crumbled and I struck out on my own again to forge a new and better and stronger and more independent and happier life, I have done this twice that I recognize. I have held back when perhaps I shouldn’t have. I have stopped far too often to think when perhaps what was called for was me letting loose.

But even now, I’m not completely sorry I did it.

One, I know would have ended in heartache for me. The other is likely to have come to the same conclusion. And both could have easily tossed me off my track to the happier life I’m after. Maybe... maybe not ....

But in the end, would either have been worth the risk?

Maybe.

But it’s too late to second – or third – guess it. What’s done is done. And I’m all right with the decisions I made.

Colbie just reminds me that sometimes – occasionally – once in awhile – it’s all right to not spell it all out. Sometimes, it’s better to keep your cards close to your vest, and wait to see how things unfold in front of you.

Sometimes, it’s all right for *me to be the one with poker face. I’ve earned that.

It's not up to me to make it easier for someone else all the time -- or simple, as the song says. Everyone has their own demons to fight - either someone realizes that it's a demon worth fighting, or it's not. And I'm not doing all that fighting on my own anymore.

I don’t have time to fight all of the demons.
And I don't have time to regret.

Tonight, my muse was wearing ......

Inspiration comes from the weirdest places with me sometimes.

Tonight, it came from a picture on the internet of a dress.

I'm not a huge of fan of Denise Richards (the girl wearing the dress) or anything but she's gorgeous and I love her hair.

But what inspired me tonight was definitely this dress.





I slid off the edge of the desk, and putting my hands behind my back demurely, I covered the short distance across the room to stand in front of him. I looked up at him, and licked my lips.
“Exactly.” He said, as he pushed me down to my knees. “Put your hands back where they were.” He unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants quickly as I put my hands behind my back again. He slid his pants down, along with his boxers, and wrapped his hand around his hard cock. “This what you were licking your lips for?” He asked, putting his hand in my hair.
Without giving me time to answer, he pulled me forward and rubbed the head of his cock along my red lips.
Talking time was over. He tightened his grip on my hair a little, and pushed himself past my lips, the head of his cock sliding between them slowly. I opened my mouth a little further, taking more of him than he was offering and then tightened them around the shaft, sucking lightly. He let go of his cock and reached down into the top of my dress and pulled my breasts out while he slid himself a little further into my mouth.

Tonight my muse was wearing a red satin dress.

I want her wardrobe *grin

Spoiled

I call myself a princess sometimes. I like the fact that I reclaimed that nickname from an old relationship that was abusive and where the nickname was used in a derogatory, sarcastic manner.

I own it now. And hearing it at certain times gives me a very ‘special’ reaction, if you know what I mean /wink

I’m not a princess though, and I’m far from being spoiled. At the very beginning of the relationship, I felt very spoiled by M, but the fact was (and I later realized) that it wasn’t so much spoiling me, as it was ‘buying’ me, and covering for basic human inadequacies. Money became his substitute for love. In the end, it didn’t buy him anything but a kiss-off in his kitchen when he pushed me too far.

I am used to being the one who does the spoiling. There have been very few men in my life who didn’t welcome that; maybe they had been the ones doing it before or maybe they just enjoyed the fact that I was willing to do it, but I think I shoot myself in the foot by doing that, and it’s done.

At least, until someone else does it first /smirk

(as an aside, it’s storming like crazy here, so I have one eye on the laptop, one on the back door, and I’m keeping my toes crossed that the wet stuff doesn’t creep under the door again ….)

I keep saying that when I do finally get into another relationship (which would require me to actually date….), I don’t necessarily need to be treated like a princess but I certainly expect reciprocation. That’d be a shock to my system out of the last few relationships I’ve had.

(And yes, I do realize how sad that is and how much it probably sounds like whining but when has that ever stopped me from being honest before? ) /snicker

I guess maybe I have more time to think about relationship right now because I’m not concerned about having one. The focus on the diet/exercise portion of my life has taken over all of that and yes – it’s possible that maybe I’m using it as an excuse – but I want to feel the best I can feel – not be the skinniest or the prettiest – but actually Feel the Best I can Feel – before I put myself out there again.

In doing so, maybe I’ll get myself that reciprocation.

No. Not maybe. I will.

And if I don’t, he won’t last long enough to see what he has to lose.

You gotta have priorities..

“Good sex just hides everything that’s bad about a relationship” from HBO’s “Tell Me You Love Me” series

That’s an interesting quote.

And unfortunately, despite everything I’ve said over the past 5 years of writing this blog, it’s at least partially true.

I have stayed in relationships far longer than I should have because the sex was good – or at least because there was sex and I didn’t want to shut down that opportunity.

But that’s not all there is to it.

Good sex can also give enough incentive to make a rocky relationship better, provided that both people believe there is something there to save.

I have been on both sides of that coin; in a relationship that wasn’t worth saving, and in a relationship that was rescued from the brink of disaster by a couple of really good fucks and a lot of talking in between.

Obviously I escaped the first and the second deteriorated eventually, but as with everything else – I’m always a fan of doing whatever you can do to hold true to your commitments, providing that you don’t put yourself or your self-esteem in jeopardy.

Call it what you will, sex is a huge part of any relationship. Can it kill a relationship? Yes. Can it save a relationship? Sometimes. Does it hide flaws? Maybe. But not for long. And not to the exclusion of seeing serious signs.

While I stand by what I’ve said about the importance of very good, very hot, very inventive sex in any satisfying relationship, it really does need to be said that sex can make or break that bond between people. I know there are people who’ve stayed in relationships for security, for money, because of children – all of that. But whether or not those people are actually –satisfied- is a whole other story.

And I would rather be satisfied with less money than rich and unfulfilled. I have always been that way, and likely always will be.

It’s a matter of priorities, I guess.

And my priority is happiness.

Revelations

Revelations are not always fun.

While I was doing the word count and editing the piece of erotica I wrote this afternoon (4669 words, 2 hours), it occurred to me....

What if this is all I'm really good at writing? Maybe I can't break the block with the fantasy story because I'm afraid I'm really going to suck at it, and I'll be relegated to "that erotica writer" for the rest of my days?

And if I were relegated in such a fashion, would it be the end of the world?

Maybe.

But only because I want *more*.

I'm not a one dimensional person. Oh, look, I know 90% about sex here, and that's by design. But there is more to me than that. And while I am very grateful for the gift for words that I have been given - I'm very thankful for having been published in magazines and other web sites and my poetry book - there's more to me than that.

It took a long time for me to cop to the fact that there was more to me than "Screamer". I lived, breathed, wrote, ate, slept and fucked Screamer for nearly 12 years before I finally was able to set her aside and start looking at Jill through a new lens. Part of her are very much still alive. Parts of her are at my core.

But again, there is more to me than that.

So I started writing fiction that wasn't based in female submissive/male dominant design. I broke that wall. It was hard, but I broke it.

But what if the wall between fantasy and erotica isn't breakable?

It won't be the end of my writing. I could never stop writing all together - THAT is truly at my core. It's what I do. It's my creative outlet. It's my soul.

But I am so much more than Kanthra Adaire.

In high school, I had a friend who also fancied himself a writer. For an entire school year, he and I traded a series of notebooks back and forth. We wrote a story together. He would write a couple pages, give me the book, and I would add to the story. It was absolutely exhilarating. Many years later, when I was married to my first husband, we began anew. We started with a new idea, a story told from two viewpoints. He wrote one, I wrote the other. We traded ideas, pages, letters, plot design. Neither of those stories contained one iota of sex. They were based on plot, characters, life stories of people that we grew to love and care about. With the second one, I went so far as to have another friend of mine take me out into the country, find a railroad bridge (that was in the story). We found one. We spray painted it as was done in the story. I took pictures.

I still have them.

So I know it's in there. I just have to break that wall down.

Where did I leave that jack hammer at? /wanders off

It would please me ...

Awhile back, I wrote a phrase in the little book I keep next to my chair. In the last week or so, I took that phrase and wrote a few paragraphs to add to it. And then set it aside. Because I wasn't sure where I wanted to go with it.

Apparently, today - my mind fed up with the fact that I had three days to write and didn't - decided what to do with it.

I don't write from this angle very often. I'm not sure why. It's not something I shy away from in my life, unless it becomes a habit of "more often than not" and then it doesn't do it for me. But as an occasional thing - as something fun or different - part time - I do enjoy it.

So today, I wrote it.

An excerpt:
---------
I teased his entire body like that. Tongue, lips, teeth, nails. All the way to his ankles. I carefully avoided his feet, knowing they were ticklish and not wanting to disrupt the sensual mood of the evening with unbridled laughter and angst. I left a bite mark on the inside of his thigh, just an inch below his balls. His body reacted fitfully to me; straining between pushing toward me, and trying to get away from the intensity of my touch. Small cries and moans escaped his lips with each new area of skin I touched, and by the time I’d worked my way back up his leg and left the bite mark, I was sure he was in violent need.
But not yet. I was not nearly done yet.
“How are you?” I asked
“I am fine, M’Lady.” He said, tightly.
“You want something.”
“Yes.”
“What is it you want?”
“I want you to touch my cock, M’Lady. Please.”
I smiled, and leaned up to slip the blindfold off his eyes. “Really?” I knelt up, putting my hands up under my hair and stretching a little. I watched his eyes as they covered every visible inch of me. Stretching my arms high above my head, I made sure that when his eyes landed at the bottom of the merry widow again, he would see my cunt; open, wet, hungry. He saw. He moaned. I let my arms down, and ran my hands down over my chest, to cup my breasts through the lingerie. “Maybe I’m not quite ready to do that.” I said thoughtfully. “Maybe I need something else, first.”
“Anything you ask.”
I reached into the top of the corset and pulled my heavy breasts out, cupping them. I leaned forward and guided one nipple to his lips, teasing him with it. His tongue snaked from between his lips and licked the tip of my breast lightly. I lowered it, and he sucked tenderly on it. I let him, for a moment, and then pulled back a little, just out of his reach.
“You know what pleases me.”
He looked quizzically at me.
“I should not have to tell you what to do to please me.”
“It’s different …”
“Is it?”
“It feels different.”
“It isn’t.” I lowered my nipple toward his mouth again, and this time he attacked it hungrily, sucking on it hard and biting at it.
I purred softly. “What pleases me pleases me. Now is no different from then.”
---------

Do I feel better, having gotten 8 pages out of me, even though it's not what I intended to write this weekend? Yes.

And it's early. Maybe I'll do some more ....

Frustration

I read about writing when I can’t write. While I’m at work. I get excited about writing. Plot twists are cooking through my head.

When I can write, I watch TV or play games or read stuff other than writing

What’s wrong with this picture?

/sigh

I thought it was writer’s block. I thought it was fear.

Now I don’t know what it is. But I’m not happy.

I did some more preliminary plot work today but I haven’t written more than a paragraph on the fantasy story this weekend, and I had such high hopes.

I do have a piece of erotic cooking in my head. Maybe I’ll at least get to manage to get that written.

Fantasies in Life

I have a habit of asking anyone that I'm considering having - or am having - a sexual interaction with what their fantasies are. I know that most people do that, but probably not as early on as I do. I am fascinated (ha!) by other people's fantasies.

I have my reasons for asking early, of course. But the biggest two are: I like to know what I'm getting into, and playing with other people's fantasies are fun. Y'all already know that I don't have a lot that's off limits, so someone has to be pretty deep into something that I consider offensive or immoral before I'll write them off altogether.

What's interesting to me, though, is that some people seem to have a lot of fantasies, while other people won't cop to having any at all. And even some of the most generic male fantasies (watching two women together; anal sex) aren't always forthcoming or even applicable. C, for example, had a very large bias against anything that screamed 'bisexual' ("Bisexuals piss me off. Make up your mind already."...C) and wouldn't even discuss it. (Course, later I found out he had a thing for trannies, so ....).

Some people say that only uncreative people don't have fantasies. I agree to a point but I also think that everyone has at least one fantasy. The question is -- are they willing to admit it out loud? That, to me, is the bigger factor.

Fear? Maybe. But maybe not for the reason you'd assume. Sometimes I think that people are afraid to share their fantasies because the reality won't live up the masturbatory material it's been for them for so long, they don't want to lose them.

I'll admit to that one for a couple of things, myself. And it's an important point. Because I'm one of those people who typically masturbate with pictures in my own head.

In a conversation last week, it was brought up that I didn't really need 'porn' because I was a very creative person and I could come up enough stuff on my own. And 99% of the time that's true. But I do watch a little porn or read a little porn occasionally, because sometimes I can't shut my mind off enough to let my creativity come through. But most of the time my fantasies are varied and vivid enough to keep my mind cooking for as long (or short!) as I feel like playing.

And okay, maybe there really are people that really don't have any of the typical fantasies, or maybe no fantasies at all. But I'm pretty sure that that's not the majority. And whether they want to admit to them or not, in the dark of their bedroom, it's the movie that runs through their heads while they make themselves cum.

What's Important

So, it's been a couple of enlightening weeks for me. I'm taking care of myself again, and still trying to figure out why I quit doing that. So while I haven't quite figured that part out yet, I have been thinking about other things.

I'm trying to decide why I quit 'looking' at the personal sites again. And on the surface, its because I am right now focused on ME. This is time for ME to get my shit together - not only with my health and such but also other parts too - like my finances and my writing and my home.

But maybe it's a little more than that.

I had a thought the other day, while I was sitting in my car on my lunch hour, that there are a lot of things that are important in deciding if you're going to have a relationship with someone, and everyone's lists are different. For me, sexual compatibility is pretty high on my list. I'm much less concerned with how much money someone has or what kind of car they drive. There are women who consider those things first, and figure that they'll deal with the sexual aspect when it comes up but I am not one of those girls.

My friend, RD, said to me last week that I really needed to have a natural dominant in a relationship. I understand why he says that, but I'm not 100% convinced that it's true anymore. I know that I searched for one for many years (and never really found one) but there are other things that are more important to me at this particular point in my life. That can change. It has changed, over the years. But right now, I'm of a mind that's it's on the list, but not at the top. After having relationships with a couple of men that my sexual drive didn't really match up with all that much, especially my marriage, I know that the next one really needs to click on that level with me for me to want to put 100% of myself into it.

There are other important things, of course. A fellow geek would be great. Someone who reads fantasy, enjoys the same kind of movies and TV that I do... these things are also important. But if there is no sexual compatibility, the rest of it is only superficial and it just will not work out.

So maybe I'm still sifting through all of that, and that's why I've ignored the personals emails.

But maybe it's because I'm just totally focused 100% on myself right now, too. It's my time to do that.

But it's also time to get off my ass and write, so be that a short story, working on a novel, or writing here - that's my intent for the 3 day weekend.

3 day weekend! YAY!

Time away

It's been a really weird couple of weeks. Good and bad and everything in between. I've been trying (with a little success) to work on a fantasy novel. I've been working out 5-7 days a week and watching every calorie and I've been rewarded with some weight loss (YAY). I found out that I need to have some non-optional surgery that isn't the kind of surgery that I expected would be my next time under the knife. (It's not life threatening but it needs to be taken care of). And I had to tell one of my very best friends that no - I would not sleep with him while he was married.

So yea. Good and bad.

I'm struggling with the writing some. Not because I don't want to write it. But because for me, it's a new venue and I'm not nearly as confident in my talent as I am with writing erotica.

So why don't I write an erotic novel?

Trust me, I've considered that, and honestly, I'd love to. I just haven't hit upon a story idea yet that lends itself to longer than a short story.

I have the opposite problem with fantasy. Every idea I get there is a novel, not a short story.

Nothing honestly would make me happier than to combine the two styles into one. And I have seriously considered that. But again, I haven't quite hit on a story idea that works for a longer piece. Or a shorter piece.

In erotica, character development is limited. In fantasy, it's mandatory. I think mainly that's where my struggle is. But I'm trying work through it.

I also signed up at Become An Ex, and am really trying to work my way through the programs and the questions. I'm doing so well with the diet and exercise that yes - I am afraid to upset the apple cart so to speak. But it's on my mind.

I don't have any plans for the weekend. That's on purpose. I want to try and get all of my chores done on Friday so that I can concentrate on writing at least 6 hours a day on the rest of the weekend. We'll see how that goes.

I have a couple topics I want to write on this week. I'm really going to have to focus a little on something other than my calories and the exercise bike.

We'll see how I do *grin

Curing Writer's Block: Part One

I bought a little book on writer's block recently - something I experience far too frequently for my taste. One of the exercises in the book was to pick a bad habit and write about why I do it. The goal is to write honestly and clearly about something we do that we know we shouldn't do, but that we do anyway.

My bad habit was easy to choose, and one that several times in the last two years I've said I was going to get rid of, but still have managed to hang onto for reason I'm not entirely clear on.

Smoking.

I started smoking when I was 16. Of the four girls I hung out with, 3 of them smoked. Only one held out, and I wish that'd been me, but it wasn't. At the time, I wasn't really much of a 'bad girl' (as far as anyone knew anyway), and it was my little rebellion.

When I was very little, in the late 60's, all of the anti-smoking stuff really started to come out on TV. I remember my mom coaching my sister and I on how to tell my Dad we wanted him to quit smoking.

And he did.

Boy, was he unhappy with me when he caught me some 13 years later. He still is, but it's my Mom that's really bad about it.

I did quit once. For three weeks. For my first husband's birthday. I got the patch (it was prescription then and damn expensive). Apparently though, I was a complete and utter bitch for three weeks (who, me? /blink) and one evening, he'd had enough and went to the corner store and brought back a pack of Marlboros and threw them at me.

I did not quit then for the right reasons and I know that now. Had I done it for me instead of someone else, I probably would have gotten through that bitchy stage easier.

As for why I still do it, I still don't know. Is it a security blanket of some sort? My last vestige of 'The Jill I Used To Be'? I've gone long periods of time without smoking before - so while I realize there is a nicotine addiction present, I don't think that'll be the worst of it for me. I think it's the habit part. The part where my brain says "you can have a cigarette now" as if it's a treat or something.

I have cut down - WAY down from what I smoked even 2 years ago. I have good days and bad days. But it's still there, ever present, calling to me first thing in the morning, right after I eat and idly lurking while I sit at the computer downstairs.

I make excuses (and at the end of it, that's what they are - excuses - tho I present them as valid reasons) why today is not the right reason to toss them out.

The patch will help with the cravings. But it's the habit I need to make shut up first.

I'll keep working on that.

Anyone with motivation ideas should email them to me. But don't use the pictures and health motivations. Those never work. *chuckle They have been tried many times before.

Some decisions should be stuck to

I remembered Sunday morning why I put my scale away in the first place.

After a good first 10 days on the new exercise/eating plan, my plan went afoul during the "Flood of Jill's Living Room" and I wasn't able to work out at all last week, but I accounted for that in my daily calorie intake, and at the end of the week, I was still about 6500~ calories under my weekly BMR total. So I should have lost at least a pound, maybe 1.5.

The scale read exactly the same as it did last Monday.

And this, my friends, is why scales SUCK.

Even without working out, the calorie cut would have meant weight loss. But the scale is fickle and doesn't understand anything beyond it's own little digital hell.

I'm not letting it stop me, or push me any further into a calorie deficiet. I've learned over the last three years that moderation is the key to losing weight and not fucking up my knees (by pushing too hard on the bike). I did get to ride last night, and I ate lunch (breakfast, of course) at Country Kitchen with my folks yesterday for Father's Day, so maybe that'll kick the scale in the ass before I toss it out into the garage just to watch is shatter.

But I won't find out til next Sunday.

I am not letting that piece of electronic equipment take over my life again. Yes, I have a goal and yes, I want to hit it, but the scale is not the friend of someone who's gotten this close to being at an 'ideal weight' after having been overweight my entire life.

So it's been relegated back to it's corner until next weekend. And the bike is once again ready to be ridden daily.

I'm a little disappointed of course, but not as devestated as I'd have been (and was on many occasions) last year. I think my attitude and approach are healthier this time.

At least I hope they are.

No, I know they are.

And on the subject of fantasies ....

I’ve written ad naseum about my love of lingerie, right? Everyone who’s read more than a couple of posts here knows that. Over the last couple of years, as I’ve grown into, and become more comfortable in, this new body I have I’ve spent more money on lingerie than I ever have in my life and I have loved almost every piece of it that I’ve bought.

But that isn’t all there is to a sexy wardrobe built for sex is it?

While you’re thinking about your fantasies, what are you wearing in them? Besides lingerie or high heels, what else is in your fantasy wardrobe?

Short skirts? Maybe denim ones, for hooker-wear or pleated plaid ones for the school girl look? Knee high boots? Thigh high boots? A nurse’s hat? Teacher’s glasses? A man’s suit? Tight jeans and a shirt cut so low it would be illegal street wear?

Lingerie is awesome. But there are other articles of clothing that can bring out the animal in your partner just as much as a babydoll and a thong.

What’s the sexiest thing you can wear for your partner? Have you asked him or her? Or do you just assume he likes all that black lace and the g-string? Maybe if you haven’t asked, you should. Maybe he has a nurse fantasy. Maybe he would prefer to see you in something short and white and innocent once in awhile. Maybe he’d really love it if you dressed in ‘street’ clothes like a complete and total slut and drug him away from the news and up the stairs to show him how well those clothes suit you in that moment …..

Almost any piece of clothing you buy can have sex appeal if worn correctly (or incorrectly in some cases….). Look at things you own differently. Look at them and ask “Would I fuck me in that?”

No, really. Do it. It’s fun *grin

Fantasies and Goals

In my early 20’s, I started reading Nancy Friday books. I think the first one I read was Women on Top. I remember at the time that there weren’t a lot of books like this. You could find an occasional erotic novel in Waldenbooks (which is pretty much what we had then), but stuff like this was pretty rare.

Anyway, I’m thinking that that’s what started me off on this path, or at least it gave me a swift kick in the ass toward this lifelong obsession with sexuality.

I was thinking about Nancy Friday books the other night and I’m thinking I’m probably going to repurchase some of them (it’s unfortunate, but if I kept every book I ever bought I’d be sitting and sleeping on them).

But it brought to mind fantasies. Everyone has them. Some people like me have write about them. Some people keep them locked inside and never reveal them. Some people will reveal them only when they feel 100% comfortable in a monogamous relationship, and even then, they will quiver in fear. People feel good about them, people feel bad about them, people base their entire lives on trying to bring every one they ever have, come to life.

The latter to me, says that it’s not a fantasy though.

There is a very big difference between a fantasy and a goal. And people who carry around these fantasies – waiting for the opportunity to present itself to have a threesome, get a spanking, have anal sex – are working toward a goal, not reveling in a healthy fantasy life.

Fantasies are just that. Fantasies. Sometimes, they do come true. Sometimes, you get very lucky – or unlucky in some cases – and get to carry them out, explore them fully.

And sometimes, you don’t.

Sometimes, you fantasize about things that you’d never even want to do out of your mind. They’re dangerous or they’re scary or they’re just plain unrealistic.

But they do serve a purpose, don’t they? They make wonderful masturbatory material and they can keep you from drifting off in a boring business meeting. You can fantasize about things that you’d never share with another soul or you can fantasize about things that you’d share with even a casual lover during pillow talk.

You can take a very elaborate fantasy – say for instance – a huge bondage fantasy complete with a leather masked master wielding a dangerous looking single tail whip – and carry it partially out with a trusted lover wearing a pair of tight jeans and wielding a wooden spoon.

Fantasies change and grow and expand and contract and…. Well if they didn’t change, wouldn’t they get boring after the first few hundred times?

I mentioned briefly that there’s a difference between a fantasy and a goal. If you can say “I want to sleep with my partner and another girl before I die.” , that leaps out of the fantasy realm and into the goal realm. There’s nothing wrong with sexual goals. Sexual goals are fun *grin. But when you begin to feel as if something that was first a fantasy for you needs to happen or you will not feel fulfilled, it leaps from fantasy land into goal land. And that’s just something we need to accept and work with.

I hold my fantasies very dearly. My fantasies are what inspire a great deal of my erotica. My fantasies change a lot, slight variations to completely brand new ones. I’m happy about that because it keeps my imagination oiled and working.

Being able to tell the difference between what’s realistic and what’s not so realistic is what separates sane from the insane. I’m sure that you’ve done that already (because no one crazy reads blogs, right?) . Stop and think about a few of yours. Are they things you really want to do? Are they things you’d share with someone you trust? Are they something that you really actually want to accomplish?

There are very few fantasies you should ever feel ashamed of. I can only think of fantasies involving insentient beings, or things that would land you in the hospital or prison that would be considered unhealthy. Anything else? Let your imagination go wild. Don’t stop yourself just because you don’t think you’ll ever get to do it. That’s not a good reason to kill a fantasy. A goal, yes. A fantasy, no.

Fantasizing exercises your imagination, your creativity and your sexuality. Providing they aren’t hurting you or anyone else, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with letting your imagination run wild.

Some days, wild is my favorite color *grin. Okay, okay. Most days.

What would you do for peace?

I don't share links very often here.

But this one ... this is priceless. It's also related to one of my favorite subjects... *grin

I am not a huge anti-war protester or anything but this just made me laugh. out. loud.

Hope you get a chuckle, too.

What Will You Do For Peace?

Come Together...or don't.

I said last week that I’m a book whore. That’s true, and also a little play on words, because typically with every trip to the bookstore, I end up with a non-fiction book about sex or sexuality, or an erotic novel.

I can’t help it. It’s one of my favorite subjects *grin

There’s an interesting quote in one of the books I got recently, which I’m not going to link because frankly, besides this quote and a few web links, the book is just dumb and offers no new information about anything. It’s regurgitated stuff from other books. Or sounds like it, anyway. So while I won’t promote it, I will use the quote (there, that’ll teach someone to write unoriginally, won’t it? HA)

“Simultaneous orgasms are great, but you do run the risk of ignoring each other. Sometimes, it’s more fun to come one at a time so you can watch.”

I read that a couple times, and then gave it some thought. And it’s true.

I enjoy watching a man that I’m interacting sexually with cum. I like to watch his face, his body, and I like to listen.

That’s pretty difficult to do when I wrapped up in a writing, whimpering mass at the point of my own orgasm.

The author goes on to say that it’s nearly impossible to do, which it’s not. If you’re practiced at controlling and containing your orgasms, if you can –wait- it’s not that difficult to do. But her original statement remains true; it is a lot of fun to watch.

I think somewhere along the line, simultaneous orgasm got romanticized, probably by some married women in the 70’s when women started really having a lot of orgasms, and really only had sex to express love and commitment to their husbands. I can see the reason behind wanting to do it, having felt this way myself. Cumming together, if you’re in a ‘love’ situation, can signify to a woman that they are completely in tune with their partner and linked with them. It can reinforce their feeling that they’re doing the right thing. Totally understandable.

*shrug It doesn’t really mean any of that though and delusions aren’t all that healthy are they?

Sex is supposed to be fun, whether you’re doing it as an expression of love, a way to procreate or just to do it. It’s not fun if you’re concentrating so hard on hurrying up or slowing down so that you can share a 15 second moment with your lover. Does that sound fun to you?

Well, unless you’re doing it to sexually torture and tease someone…then maybe it’s fun …

But I’ll think about that later!

And so will you. Won’t you? *grin

Disruptions

So, yea.

2 days of record rainfall on Saturday and Sunday do not make me a happy girl.

I was sitting in my recliner Saturday night, enjoying some quiet time and actually working steadily on my plotline and my characters for the fantasy novel I've started to work on. I was very happy with the progress I'd made, and then I stood up to go up to bed.

And my feet got wet.

Apparently, the stairwell that's attached to the door in my downstairs living room does not drain when inch upon inch upon inch of water are dumped into it. So it decided, of it's own volition, to start creeping under my door. It soaked about a quarter of the room. Disgusted, I went and gathered my towels (from when this happened in my office) and a fan, and covered it and started the fan. I was unhappy when I went to bed, but I figured I could fix that one area.

So Sunday, I played some Warcraft and then went to get my hair highlighted and trimmed up. I love the woman who cuts my hair. She makes me look amazing. So I was in a super mood ...

... until I got to my car and started to drive home, into one of the blackest skies I'd ever seen.

I hoped for the best. I got back on my desktop (since I had to move all the furniture around in the living room to dry it up) and played a bit more. Around 9 pm, I got up to go fill up my water glass and ....

Yup. More wet carpet. Creeping through the living room, right into my office.

I was angry then. I made several calls to my landlords over the weekend and left messages, and finally got a call back. They're out of town (of course they are), but will be back Monday and come right over to check it out.

In the meantime, the smell was atrocious. The carpet was soaked. The cats were freaked out. I went to bed still pissed off.

Yesterday, I left work at noon and came home to await the landlords. The wet carpet was gone by 6pm and now the concrete that was under it is STILL drying. So I'm stuck upstairs with the laptop and the small TV and surrounded by all of the stuff from my office and the living room that I could move.

Life, disrupted.

It could have been worse. So I'm thankful it wasn't.

But until I can completely obliterate that smell, I'll be agitated.

I've kept working on plot and characters while I'm stuck up here in Small TV Land and hope the floors downstairs dry soon and I can wrestle the smell outta my house.

Send Febreeze......

Catch up

By my own admission, books are my drug of choice, and me walking into a Half-Price Books is akin to a junkie going to a crack house. But walk in I did last week on my lunch hour, and books I did buy.

The stack on my nightstand grows, as does the one on the table beside me. Fiction upstairs, non-fiction downstairs, but the piles grow precarious.

I should be ashamed. But I'm not. I am a book whore.

-----

I watched Season One of The Tudors this week. I loved it. I can't wait to get Season Two. This is a part of english history that I know very little about, and in amongst the sex and intrigue are some very clear history lessons. The writing is crisp and inviting. The actors carry their parts, and I ended up feeling sorry for villains and disliking heroines. That's what keeps me interested in a series. It makes me change my mind. Even the music is good.

-------

I began outlining the fantasy novel (well one of them) that's been living in my mind for the last several months. I hope to keep at it, and get my characters set enough soon so that I can actually start writing. Well, providing my current writer's block subsides, that is.

------

As I spoke of in my most recent post, I've started watching my calories very closely and exercising daily again. It feels good to take control of that back, and I guess I'm thankful to that stupid scale at the doctors office for smacking me up 'side the head. I'm doing very well, and that makes me happy. Perhas the happiness will break the block as far as writing is concerned as well.

I can hope, can't I?

Off Track

I really wanted to write over my long weekend last week. Didn’t happen. Why? Because last weekend wasn’t about creating, it was about breaking things down.

That did include some cleaning and organizing that needed to happen. But it also included breaking down my apparent frustration in where my weight is.

I had to go see the doctor last week. It’s nice that I go to the same franchise clinic that did my surgery three years ago. They have all of my records, no matter which of the three clinics I go to. I like that. I also like that I can see most results and statistics online.

But the downside to that is that they track my weight pretty closely because of the surgery. And apparently, somewhere between last week and last year, I gained four pounds. Doesn’t sound like much, does it? Not a big deal.

But to me, it was devastating. I still had 12 pounds to lose, and here, I had actually gained 4 pounds?!? What the hell was that!

So I beat the crap out of myself for a couple days and then I focused my head again and got busy. I’m counting every calorie and I’m back on the exercise bike. I got off track. I quit paying attention. It’s no wonder I wasn’t losing and had actually gained. I wouldn’t have been so frustrated at the gain, I decided, had I actually hit the goal I set for myself last year. But since I hadn’t, I really did some serious bitching at my reflection.

So now, I have sixteen to lose.

I didn’t get on the scale. I know I should have, first thing before I started. But my scale has about an inch of dust on it, because I gave up on it. The closer I got to goal, the less it moved and I finally just put it away. I didn’t want my mood every day to depend on a variable number. I’ll get the courage up to get it back out before the week is out.

While I don’t like being down on myself, I do like that this lit a fire under my ass and I feel like I have a little bit of focus now. More than a little bit, actually. I hope I can apply it to other things in my life that need doing – like my writing – and my home.

I’m hoping I can stay on track this time, and get these stupid sixteen pounds off and maybe in the process, make exercise a habit again. I quit riding my bike before because I pounded at it so hard that I hurt my knee doing it. I started slow this time. Maybe that’ll help.

Send good vibes if ya got ‘em. I’m sure I could them.

Wisdom

The Wisdom of Silent Bob

"There’s a million fine lookin women in the world, dude, but they don’t all bring you lasagna at work. Most of them just cheat on you…" Kevin Smith as Silent Bob, from the movie Clerks.

Serenity

I’m not much of a crowd follower. In my younger days I was. I started smoking, didn’t I? But now, I tend to run screaming from anything that too many people rave about. Intentional rebel? Maybe. More like I just don’t like to be normal *grin

So when yet another friend of mine started raving about an TV Series called “Firefly”, I cringed a little. C raved about it, as well as several of my other friends. But I finally cracked, more from curiosity than anything else, and I bought the dvd set just to make them all pipe down. I mean – c’mon. Space western? What the hell is that? I’m not a huge science fiction fan and while I do have a cowboy fetish, I’m not really a western fan, either. It sat on the shelf of my tv stand for well over a month before I finally caved and put the first dvd in.

From about the first half hour into the 2 hour pilot, I realized something. I really did like the damn show.

I was disgusted with myself about that for awhile. Then I gave up the ghost and decided that even this weird space western had clever humor, good action and a cast of characters that was unique. I absolutely adore the girls in this series, especially Annora and Kaylee. Annora is so blazingly upfront and sensual. Her career path, while not something I'd seriously do, is something that intrigues me nonetheless. And Kaylee in her innocence... you know she's not that innocent. You know there's a very deep sexuality buried under all those smiles and that sweetness.

So, the three words that I dislike saying and everyone seems to love to hear from me ….

You. Were. Right.

Okay. Fine. Let’s move on.

After I finished watching the last three episodes of Firefly last night, and then the special features, I decided I probably would get in the car and drive to Border’s today to get the movie, Serenity. I did that today.

In other news …

A couple weeks ago, I picked up the special edition of Clerks II, since I have up until now neglected to buy it. I love View Askew movies. I have had a serious crush on Silent Bob (Mr Kevin Smith) since the first time I saw Clerks. Once or twice a year, I line up all of my Kevin Smith movies and have a little tribute day. For me, that’s Clerks, Mallrats, Chasing Amy, Dogma and Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back. Now, I can add Clerks II to that.

Not only are these movies hilarious, but there are classic lines in every one of these that just stick in your head forever. Two of my favorites come from Chasing Amy.

“I love you, I always will. Know that. But I'm not your fucking whore. “

“I was an experimental girl for Christ sake! Maybe you knew from early on your track was from point A to B, but unlike you I was not given a fucking map at birth, so I tried it all! That is until we, you and I, got together and suddenly I was sated! “

That man should never stop writing. Ever.

So this weekend, while I’m recovering from some gawd awful virus that’s making it’s way around Madison, I’m going to hole up, have my Kevin Smith Film Festival and watch the Firefly movie.

And write. I intend to write. *grin

Enjoy your holiday!

Healthy

So, what makes a healthy sexual relationship?

Are you wondering where that came from? Me, too. It just kinda popped into my head today while I was cussing out downed DSL connections and having to re-do an hours worth of work. It popped back into my head tonight while I was straightening my hair(which I finally got exactly the way I wanted it with the new cut so it’s a banner evening here). So I figure it’s worth exploring a little.

Out of the several relationships I have had over the years, I’d have to say that very few of them were actually healthy sexual relationships. At one time, I was overly co-dependent and slightly passive-aggressive, and my sexual relationships were steeped in that. I didn’t ask for things I wanted, I gave what my partner wanted, and then felt resentful that I wasn’t getting what I needed. Well, duh.

I can say “well, duh” now because I know better. But then, I thought I was doing what I was supposed to be doing: taking care of my partner, and leaving my own needs for last.

Yea, that’s not very healthy.

A healthy sexual relationship is much like I described when I wrote about casual relationships: It’s a relationship in which both people get everything they need and a large part of what they want. Both people feel energized by their time together, rather than drained by it. Both people are honest about their feelings and feel free to share their personal fantasies and desires. Both people are sexually satisfied and look forward to being together in that way. You’re both comfortable enough to be open about almost everything you’ve ever conceived sexually and you’re both accepting of each other’s conceptions, whether you’re interested in carrying them out or not. Typically, that’s all many people are looking for; the acceptance of what they fantasize about. Carrying it out is gravy over the person you’re fucking listening and being receptive to what you have to say.

If both people are at least relatively emotionally healthy on their own, and if they share similar moral values, there’s no reason that their sexual relationship won’t be healthy, too. But that’s not really a guarantee. The smallest thing can cause one person’s emotional health from one direction to the other. In a matter of minutes. Usually it will swing back the other way, but not always. Everyone has triggers. But hopefully if you’ve gotten to know someone before sleeping with them, you’ll learn to avoid the big ones.

A healthy sexual relationship can do more than fulfill fantasies. It can help you sleep better. Lose weight. Open your mind. Learn to be more open and less shy.

But it’s not a cure-all for what ails ya. Make no mistake about that. You need to be able to give as well as you get. One-sided relationships are not healthy relationships. Additionally, any relationship that damages other parts of your life is not healthy, either.

I guess the bottom line is this: If both parties in the relationship feel good about it, and it’s not ruining anything else in your life, chances are it’s healthy. And a healthy sex life is a beautiful thing.

Now all I gotta do is get serious about finding one *grin

The Importance of Kissing

Any man who can drive safely while kissing a pretty girl is simply not giving the kiss the attention it deserves. ~Albert Einstein

I got two new big pillows for my bed. I used to have 4 fluffy feather pillows on it, but over the last six months, two of them have developed "leaks" and I've had to set them aside to be taken to my mom for repairs. I got a couple of very nice faux down filled pillows, hoping that since they aren't real down, they won't leak *grin. I also bought some high-count pillowcases for them, so they're actually very luxurious on my bed. I’m going back to get the matching sheets.

I have so many pillows for a reason. I like the bed feeling 'full'. I sorely dislike the idea of an empty bed for long periods of time, and I got used to having so many when C was out of sea so much. Even if you're in the bed alone, you feel a certain volume to it. And it helps.

Beyond having another body in the bed, one of the big things I miss about having a consistent partner/lover/boyfriend/what-the-hell-ever is kissing. Sounds simple enough, right? It’s really not.

I recently told someone that, in relation to a casual relationship, the lack of kissing would be a deal breaker for me. Remember the scene in Pretty Woman where Julia Robert’s character says that she never kisses her tricks? I understand it in her case. But in my case, it doesn’t work. Not only are people not ‘tricks’ to me, but kissing is a huge part of the whole sexual experience. A great kisser can make me immediately ready for sex. A bad kisser can turn me off so much that I don’t even feel remotely up to sex. I have gotten past it in a few cases, but for the most part, if a guy is a bad kisser, chances are I’m not going any further with them.

I’ve had kisses that were so wet I felt like I needed a towel. And conversely some so dry that I wondered if there was some sort of physical deformity involved. If a guy immediately stuff my mouth full of tongue I’m not going to react well to it. There needs to be a bit of finesse involved in that, and some guys, no matter what their age, still haven’t learned that. I don’t like ‘loose lips’ either.

Picky? Yup. And unapologetic about it. Kissing is sexy as hell to me and important. If someone can fire me up with a couple of hot kisses, I know I have myself a winner.

Yes, it really is that important.

A man's kiss is his signature. ~Mae West

Making out should be fun. Spending an hour, two, three with someone on a couch or a blanket or a bed before any actual sex happens can be a shitload of fun and should never be ignored. Not every time you have sex, of course, but often enough that neither of you forget that the base of sexual attraction is not simply intercourse. It’s all the stuff that leads to fucking, too.

Kissing is a big part of that. Probably the most important part. And well worth the time to learn to do properly.

Anti-Instant

Sometimes I wonder if my life wouldn’t be easier if I were like a majority of the population – an instant gratification girl.

It occurred to me today as I was cleaning house, and doing some thinking about certain subjects that I’m not the kind of person to go masturbate *every time I get an itch. Sometimes, like today, I like to wait. I like to live with that itch for awhile, make it grow, make it drag on. As I said recently, I draw a lot of my creative energy from my sexual energy, and by pointedly *not running for my vibrator every time I get a twinge, I can develop and draw that out even more.

I haven’t written any erotica in awhile and I miss it. The creative process that goes into writing a good piece of erotic fiction is something that really does fulfill me. While I also want to write non-erotic fiction, erotica is my first love simply because it’s where I had my first major successes. I have a couple of fantasy stories in my head but for some reason I have more difficulty sitting down to write those out.

If I were the kind of person who sought out instant gratification, I’d be able to sit down and write whenever the muses struck me, but I’m not that way. Just like sexual energy, I like to let the creative energy build until I can barely stand it. That way, I’m assured that I’ll sit down and write a good piece, start to finish, rather than leaving these half-written pieces all over my desktop (of which I have about four right now). I save them on my desktop because I like seeing them there to remind me that I have work to do.

If I were an instant gratification kind of person, I’d probably be looking a little harder for a local ‘friend’. But I’m not. I’m not avoiding it, but I’m not out there sending winks on personal sites and writing emails to anyone who strikes my fancy. Maybe I should be, but I’m not. I typically wait for someone to write to me first. Old fashioned? Maybe. But likely more because I know something about myself.

I am not everyone’s cup of tea. And that’s okay.

In the last three years, I’ve had a couple of profiles up on some personal sites. Not hard core ones, but not really half-hearted ones either. They’re just there. They’re just me. Out of every ten responses I get, I might respond to one person. Out of the ten or so I’ve seriously responded to, I’ve met five gentlemen. And out of those five gentlemen, most of them haven’t bothered to ask for a second meeting.

And that’s okay.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I don’t know how to date. Maybe I don’t give off the right kind of vibes when I meet these guys or maybe I’m not at all what they were expecting. But I am who I am, and I’m not going to put on airs to make a false first impression.

And that’s okay.

This is not to say that I don’t dress up and do my hair and put on make-up. I do. But I try to go into them relaxed, and I always tell myself that whether he calls me again or not, I’m all right either way. I know that these are things that are normal for most people. And I feel like I’m about 20 years behind where I should be, because of the kinds of relationships I’ve had in my life.

And that’s okay. Because it’s never too late to do things the right way.

And the right way for me is to be patient. Just as I am with my writing. Just as I am with my sexual energy. And just as I am with this whole dating thing.

Patience is the antithesis of instant gratification, and it has a lot less opportunity for failure. So I’m okay with that. *grin

Now, having said that, I think maybe I’ve waited long enough *grin

Ain't No Miracles Here baby

For anyone out there who thinks the way I used to --- that if you could just change that one part of your life that you thought was holding you back from being completely happy, your life would be perfect --- please don’t. It’s not true.

For all of my adult life, I told myself that if I could just lose enough weight to be a normal size, that the other parts of my life would magically fall into place.

Guess what? Not so much.

I’ve been under ‘normal’ size now for over a year (Normal size is considered to be a size 12/14) and my life is far from perfect. I do have much more self-confidence. I am healthier. And I do look 200% better. I do have a good job that I like. I am saving money and paying off debt. I am living in a huge duplex that I really do like.

But not everything fell into place the way I expected it to. I mean, how could it? But the fact is, when you are mired down in shit, and so dis-satisfied with your life that you focus so intently on one thing that you just know is going to fix everything, it definitely keeps you motivated and going, which is good. But at the end of it all – when you have attained your goal, it’s a pretty big let down.

I’m not complaining. I am very happy with everything that I’ve accomplished and I am not ungrateful for my health, both physical and emotional. But contrary to what I ‘believed’ would happen, my life has not magically transformed into what I always wanted. The last couple weeks have really driven that home for me.

I’d rather be buried in reality than living in a fantasy world, and that’s where I am. This is my reality.

There may be that one big thing that you know you have to change. But don’t believe for a minute that that one thing is going to totally reconstruct your life. It won’t.

But if you’re very lucky, changing that one thing will give you the courage to keep going, and keep changing, until your life is closer to what you want it to be. That’s where I am right now. I’m trying to decide what’s next.

Do ....who?

I was doing some reading on one of my bdsm message boards the other night. I’ll admit I’ve kind of abandoned them lately as I’ve been spending much more time working on some fantasy (as in sci-fi fantasy) story ideas and just letting myself relax and be in the moment than I have reading forums. Anyway, as I read through a series of posts about dominant expectations I got to thinking…

Do-er dominant, or do-me dominant?

I’ve had both. M was much more of a do-er. Whether it was pain, sex or roleplay, M wanted to direct what was happening. M liked to ‘play’. C, on the other hand, was a do-me dominant. “Do this for me, do that for me.” Unless it was an occasional spanking, he really wasn’t that interested in ‘playing’ at all. While I am not currently in the market for a dominant per se, I do still enjoy elements of dominant/submissive play in my sex life sometimes, so it’s still a pertinent topic.

For me, a do-er dominant is one that plays *with his submissive. One that uses toys, including and most importantly his mind, to draw emotions and reactions from her to his satisfaction. A do-me dominant, conversely is one who wants to be serviced. I think more than anything, it’s a matter of who has the focus, and who is the center of attention in most cases in the relationship.

As to which I prefer, it’d be easy to say a combination of the two, but that’s not necessarily always true. I know that there definitely are submissives for whom service is their biggest kink, I’m not that. Do I enjoy doing it sometimes? Yes. Do I want to make a career out of it? Does it make me wet in anticipation? No.

That’s not to say that I expect to be a passive player with a do-er dominant. I’m not very good at being passive to be honest. But as I’ve said many times before being told what to do at the right time in the right place can be a very big turn on. And as I seem to have lost most of my self-consciousness issues with being ‘the center of attention’, being ‘toyed’ with and ‘played’ with has a bit more appeal to me than it used to.

I used to have a very good submissive friend to whom service was key in her relationship. Her master demanded it, and it made her happy and fulfilled to provide it. Even their play was not about play; it was about her doing what he wanted, when he wanted, and she provided him a canvas on which to play. They were a perfect match, and very happy together. Definitely not the norm, but just right for each other.

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with either the do-er dominant or the do-me dominant. I think there are submissives out there to match nearly every percentage of either side that exists. The key is to be careful what you wish for, and to be careful how you present your expectations to a potential partner.

Define Casual

I love getting questions from people who read here. First of all, it lets me know that someone’s actually reading this blog (lol), and second of all it lets me know that I’m provoking thought. Both of these things make me happy.

Over the last several months, I’ve mentioned ‘casual’ relationships a lot. One of my readers wants to know what I mean by a ‘casual sexual relationship’. I scanned back through some posts, and it appears she’s right; I never really defined that.

I can’t define it for everyone, either. Anyone who has or wants or talks about casual sexual relationships probably has different ideas of what that should be. What I mean by it may not be what someone else means. I guess maybe that’s why it’s even more important to have a clear definition of what casual is – and is not.

You’ll notice that most of these points address an issue of respect or friendship in one way or another. To me, those are two of the most important points of any casual relationship definition.

- Casual does not mean ‘one night’, ‘one weekend’ or ‘one fuck’. The second word in ‘casual relationship’ is ‘relationship’ and be that ‘dating’ or ‘friendship’, it denotes that this is not a one time thing. It means that before the sex and after the sex, the rest of the relationship will continue.

- Casual does not mean there is a lack of respect for the other person’s time, attention, energy or personal space. Again, because there is another piece of the relationship beyond fucking, that respect should naturally be there. While a casual relationship in and of itself means that there is no commitment, if a commitment of time is made – if plans are made – I expect them to be respected no less than you would of a very good friend, or someone you were dating. Casual does not mean you can blow the other person off ‘just because’.

- Casual does not mean ‘exclusive’ nor does it mean that either party should not be looking for their ultimate goal in relationship land. However, timing is key here. I don’t want someone I’m having a casual relationship flirting with someone else in front of me. When someone is ‘with’ me, spending time with me, I expect them to be with me. Spend all your other time looking for your Ms. Right. But if you have my attention, I expect to have yours.

- Casual does not mean a lack of regard for the other person’s feelings. It doesn’t mean that just because you are not working toward a long term commitment, that the other person’s feelings should not matter. This also means that you are obligated to share any changing feelings about the relationship with the other person so that those feelings, or possibilities can be explored, and the relationship can be altered to accommodate – either by ending the sexual part of it, or making the relationship less casual overall.

Having said all of that, a casual relationship should be fun. It should be an opportunity to play with things you’ve never been comfortable playing with in a serious relationship. It should be a chance to let go and be yourself. And above all, it should be giving you back what you put into it. (And that’s true of any sort of relationship out there – from your job to your family.) That doesn’t mean you should treat the other person casually. It’s the relationship that’s casual, not your friend. If you feel that you’re contributing more than you’re getting back for extended periods of time, you’re slowly going to feel less like being there, and it’s taking a chance on ruining the friendship that happens outside of sex.

Just for the record, this wasn’t as easy to define as I thought it was going to be. At basis of it all is the friendship. And if I don’t have that, the rest of it isn’t going to fall into place for me.

I want to make clear, too, that just because I talk about casual relationships a lot doesn’t mean that I’m opposed to something more. If I were to meet someone that I felt that deeper connection with, I’d certainly be more than open to exploring it.

Does that help clarify? :)

Imagine

There are lots of things that go into a good sexual experience. Technique of course is important. Sexual chemistry, of course. The ability to be spontaneous. The confidence to take chances. All of these things go into making a sexual experience fun, passionate and memorable.

There’s something else though, that very often gets overlooked. Imagination.

You can have the best technique in the world – a quick tongue, agile hands and hips that move perfectly. But if you don’t have the imagination to back that up, you’re going to get boring quickly.

You have to change things up sometimes. Even subtle alterations can make a big difference in a typical fuck and an outstanding fuck.

Being completely in the moment helps. Following your instincts and letting yourself carry out things that come into your head (that you believe your partner will enjoy that is) is part of it, too. Being brave enough to actually do those silly, sexy, passionate things that come into your head can mean the difference between getting off big and just getting off.

Imagination doesn’t have to mean that every sexual encounter is a big production with costumes and toys (although that’s fun, too). It means that you’re willing to expend some extra energy – that you’re confident, that you’re open to new things, that you’re willing to explore and drag your partner along with you. It means that sometimes it’s not enough to ‘go with the flow’. Not enough for you, not enough to make the event special.

And I am a firm believer in making sex special *grin

I have a big imagination. I don’t think that’s a surprise to anyone. When I’m comfortable and confident in bed, I’m able to make up for a lack of imagination in my partner. Sometimes.

But the fact is that I feed off of feedback from my partner, too. I want to see facial expressions and I want to hear guttural noises from deep in his throat when he’s having a good time. When I have physical manifestations of sexual pleasure on display before me, my creativity level can soar. Because that feedback makes me want to work even harder and see just how much I can wring out of him before it’s over.

*grin

It’s good to have imagination. It’s even better to exercise it, and use it.

Find some.

Recovery Times

Ideas of things to write about come to me at the weirdest times. Ideas of things to write about come at inopportune times. But occasionally, an idea will come to me when I can’t exactly write about it, but in the moment, I can decide exactly what I want to say.

It occurred to me the other night, after I rolled over immediately after my self-inflicted before-bed orgasm was finished, that solo orgasms are different than orgasms given to you, or shared with another person.

Now, obviously, that’s true. But all of the mental and emotional stuff isn’t what I was thinking of. I was thinking of the fact that when I have an orgasm with another person it – meaning from the peak to the full recovery – last a LOT longer than the ones I have at home alone.

When I go to bed at night, almost every night, after I’ve read for awhile and shut the light off, I have a quickie with the vibrator I keep under my bed. I’m guessing on average, 30 seconds after I peak, I’ve already rolled over and closed my eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever recovered that quickly when playing with another person.

There are sometimes when it takes a little longer for me to roll over. Sometimes, if the fantasy I’m rocking around in my head is more ‘real’ to me, I’ll drag it out longer. Sometimes, if it’s more about actual sex and less about stress-relief/sleep-assistance, I’ll take a little more time. But on average, I don’t do that.

That’s a shame, really. But in the real world, where I don’t have a regular sexual partner and most of my orgasms *are self-induced, things are what they are. There are, of course, other times besides right before bed that I masturbate. And at those times, especially if I do it in my chair at my desk or my chair in the living room, it’s usually with a specific thought in mind and I will take a bit more time and enjoy the afterglow. But even then, it’s different than the intensity and the duration of a good hard orgasm with a partner.

I’m not sure if it’s the aura of sexual chemistry that surrounds an orgasm shared with a partner, or the fact that as a female, I never know if it’s the last one when I’m with someone else (can he wring one more out of me? Can he? Yum I hope so). I don’t get either of those when I’m lying in my bed with my electronic assistance. I get “I need to cum because ….” And then I make it happen.

Oh I’m not trying to make it sound sad. It’s not. I am mostly without a partner very consciously. I’d say by choice but I don’t believe choice is the right word. But consciously is. I could have multiple lovers of a local variety if I wasn’t picky or if I was willing to forgo some standards, but I’m not. So while I’d like to have someone local – I make my choices very consciously. So there’s nothing sad about a quickie orgasm before I roll over and go to sleep.

I just the think the physical differences are interesting, that’s all. Course, there are also physical differences between having an orgasm with something inside of me, and nothing inside of me, but that’s a different story for a different time /wink.