Have you ever videotaped yourself having sex? No, but the concept of that is interesting to me. It’s not a tape that I’d keep; I’d want to erase it right after we watched it (and fucked again *smirk) but the idea of a mechanical voyeur appeals to me on some level. I don’t know if I’d be more inhibited or if I’d be able to relax and put the camera in the back of my mind. But I find the idea of it incredibly erotic.
What type of picture would you prefer to take for your partner? I like to tease. Pictures of myself naked would not be nearly erotic as me dressed in some sexy little outfit, simply because when I put on a piece of lingerie, it gives me some kind of charge, some kind of sexual power that makes my body quite ready for sex. Being naked for me isn’t sexual. Being dressed up to fuck is. When I look like I exerted some effort to show exactly how much I want someone to be with me, it feeds me as well as it feeds them. It lets me take that little slut inside myself to a whole new level.
Have you ever had sex with more than one partner in the same day? Yes, at the same time.
Do you like to receive oral sex? Short answer, yes. But it hasn’t always been that way. Most men will say that they love to go down on women but very very few actually do enjoy it. And frankly if the man isn’t enjoying eating me, I’m not going to get anything out of it, either, and for most of my sexual experience, that’s how it’s been. I did have a relatively recent experience that was better. But I guess the long answer is, it depends on the man.
When your partner goes down on you, and you are about to cum, what do you like him/her to do? A little bit of intensity and pain when I’m getting ready to cum will push me right over the head into a very hard orgasm.
Do you like to give oral sex? I do. I didn’t always, but I’ve discovered through my own sexual explorations just how erotic it can be for the giver as well as the receiver. I like to both be in control when I’ve giving head, and not be in control. The experiences are totally different, and both can be very exciting. I’ve had partners who didn’t enjoy receiving oral sex (no, really) and partners who couldn’t cum from it (no, again, really) and partners who liked it almost better than regular fucking. For me, a full on blow job is fun, and using oral as foreplay is fun. (There will be more on this in a future post)
Would you let your partner cum in your face? Yes. And have. And I love it. There is something so utterly guttural and primal about sharing that with a partner – letting them use your body as a receptacle for their cum. It’s dirty and hot and sexy and it’s something that I’ve grown to welcome as a side dish in the banquet of sex.
Have you ever let your partner cum in your mouth? Yes. I have never for the life of me understood women who don’t do this – or spit after. As long as your partner is healthy and hasn’t eaten anything weird, there is absolutely no reason to not give them the extra charge of cumming in your mouth.
Have you ever swallowed his/her cum? Yes. I can’t remember ever spitting. Ever.
Have you ever kissed your partner after he/she went down on you? Again, yes. Sharing that with your partner is incredible. And there is something very special to me about a man who doesn’t shy away from sticking his tongue in my mouth after I’ve sucked his cock, too. I’ve had partners who have utterly and absolutely refused to do this, and it just leaves me cold. It says to me that it’s okay for me to taste them, but they’re too good for it. Additionally, I think for a man, a woman tasting her own wetness off them gives them a bit of a ‘bisexual vibe’ that charges them up, and I like watching their eyes when they get that.
I’m enjoying filling this out. It’s opening a few doors for me that I hadn’t considered opening and you know how I love that ….
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
The Questionnaire , Part 1
I got one of those "Read then erase my answers, insert your own and send on to 100 of your closest friends" emails the other day. You know the ones I'm talking about. Most of them ask inane questions about what you had for breakfast and when was the last time you cried.
This one was a little different though. I haven't answered it yet, and I know that I won't be sending it out to my '100 closest friends' because typically I abhor those kinds of emails to start with.
But I will answer it. Because it's about sex.
It's a lot of questions, so I'll break it up over the course of the next week or so. But some of them will be quick answers and some won't. Maybe it'll be inspiring to me. Or you.
I guess we'll see....
...go!
Do you masturbate? Uh, yea. Usually at least once a day, sometimes two or three times. Occasionally not at all, but that's pretty rare.
Have you ever masturbated for a partner while they sat and watched? Yes, and it's something that I enjoy when I am comfortable with the person. It's very arousing to share that.
Have you ever wanted to watch a partner masturbate? Yes, and I've asked several of them.
Have you ever had a partner masturbate for you while you sat and watched? Rarely, but I have watched a lover masturbate. I find that there are basically two schools of thought with a very thick line in between. Either men find it highly erotic to be watched, or they are deathly opposed to it. You can guess which kind I find more attractive.
When do you like to watch pornography? It's funny. I don't watch near as much of it as I have in the past. I have a bit on the computer and a few DVDs around. Maybe I should start looking into some classic stuff *smirk* I do enjoy watching porn with a partner and teasing while you watch. That’s not something I’ve gotten to experience very often but when I have, I’ve liked it.
Have you ever used sex toys? You're kidding right? Yes. I own several toys that are purely for sex. A couple of vibrators, a couple of anal plugs and a very special dildo that only comes out for special occasions *grin*. I don't always use a toy when I masturbate, but I do have a Hitachi Magic Wand under my bed, and typically use it if I get off before I go to sleep.
Have you ever stripped for a partner? Once. I would be much more comfortable doing it now. I've tried like hell to get into a strip aerobics class around here but they're always full. I do have Carmen Electra's DVD on the subject and I really should start using it. I also have Sheila Kelley's "The S Factor" book. I didn't used to enjoy having that much attention focused on me, especially when it involved something that felt bad to me, like showing off my body. For some reason, masturbating for someone doesn’t bring up the same feelings for me. Maybe because it’s more about sex than it is about me.
To be continued …
This one was a little different though. I haven't answered it yet, and I know that I won't be sending it out to my '100 closest friends' because typically I abhor those kinds of emails to start with.
But I will answer it. Because it's about sex.
It's a lot of questions, so I'll break it up over the course of the next week or so. But some of them will be quick answers and some won't. Maybe it'll be inspiring to me. Or you.
I guess we'll see....
...go!
Do you masturbate? Uh, yea. Usually at least once a day, sometimes two or three times. Occasionally not at all, but that's pretty rare.
Have you ever masturbated for a partner while they sat and watched? Yes, and it's something that I enjoy when I am comfortable with the person. It's very arousing to share that.
Have you ever wanted to watch a partner masturbate? Yes, and I've asked several of them.
Have you ever had a partner masturbate for you while you sat and watched? Rarely, but I have watched a lover masturbate. I find that there are basically two schools of thought with a very thick line in between. Either men find it highly erotic to be watched, or they are deathly opposed to it. You can guess which kind I find more attractive.
When do you like to watch pornography? It's funny. I don't watch near as much of it as I have in the past. I have a bit on the computer and a few DVDs around. Maybe I should start looking into some classic stuff *smirk* I do enjoy watching porn with a partner and teasing while you watch. That’s not something I’ve gotten to experience very often but when I have, I’ve liked it.
Have you ever used sex toys? You're kidding right? Yes. I own several toys that are purely for sex. A couple of vibrators, a couple of anal plugs and a very special dildo that only comes out for special occasions *grin*. I don't always use a toy when I masturbate, but I do have a Hitachi Magic Wand under my bed, and typically use it if I get off before I go to sleep.
Have you ever stripped for a partner? Once. I would be much more comfortable doing it now. I've tried like hell to get into a strip aerobics class around here but they're always full. I do have Carmen Electra's DVD on the subject and I really should start using it. I also have Sheila Kelley's "The S Factor" book. I didn't used to enjoy having that much attention focused on me, especially when it involved something that felt bad to me, like showing off my body. For some reason, masturbating for someone doesn’t bring up the same feelings for me. Maybe because it’s more about sex than it is about me.
To be continued …
Who's driving this car, anyway?
I told a friend of mine last night that I needed to start writing about sex again and write less about emotional bullshit. Sex is safe. Writing about sex can be somewhat impersonal (thought typically not how I write about it) and it's far less about the depth and breadth that is me.
I've been thinking about that this morning. I have a plethora of sexual topics in my little notebook at home that I have in mind to write about. And I have that piece of fiction still gnawing at my brain. I have a drive and a desire to get back to what I enjoy writing about. I'm not sure if it's avoidance of other topics, or just that I really feel a need to get back where I feel I belong.
I mean, my big audience here comes from my personal website. I'm sure that Google and the Blogspot searches bring people in, too. And I'm grateful to all of you who take the time to shoot me an email or make a comment on something I've written. But most people who find this blog and come back, time and time again to see if I'm actually writing or if I'm hiding again - come back because I write about things that drive them, too. And I doubt seriously there are many of the male readers who come to read about my clothing selections for a family wedding *smirk*.
Both of those things - the sexual side, and the emotionally intellectual side - are pieces of me, and can be in any percentage on any given day in any given hour.
But again. Writing about sex feels safer to me. That doesn't mean it is, of course, and I've stirred more than my fair share of pots over the years writing about fucking, submission and general sexuality issues.
Whichever direction I go changes from entry to entry and I'm sure will continue to throughout the course of my blogging history.
But I really want to write about sex *smirk*.
I've been thinking about that this morning. I have a plethora of sexual topics in my little notebook at home that I have in mind to write about. And I have that piece of fiction still gnawing at my brain. I have a drive and a desire to get back to what I enjoy writing about. I'm not sure if it's avoidance of other topics, or just that I really feel a need to get back where I feel I belong.
I mean, my big audience here comes from my personal website. I'm sure that Google and the Blogspot searches bring people in, too. And I'm grateful to all of you who take the time to shoot me an email or make a comment on something I've written. But most people who find this blog and come back, time and time again to see if I'm actually writing or if I'm hiding again - come back because I write about things that drive them, too. And I doubt seriously there are many of the male readers who come to read about my clothing selections for a family wedding *smirk*.
Both of those things - the sexual side, and the emotionally intellectual side - are pieces of me, and can be in any percentage on any given day in any given hour.
But again. Writing about sex feels safer to me. That doesn't mean it is, of course, and I've stirred more than my fair share of pots over the years writing about fucking, submission and general sexuality issues.
Whichever direction I go changes from entry to entry and I'm sure will continue to throughout the course of my blogging history.
But I really want to write about sex *smirk*.
Images
Yea, I took my picture off here. But not forever. Just until I get a new one.
I've had that red sweater picture as an avatar for the last year or more. And while it's a nice picture of me, I need to replace it.
I keep saying every weekend that I'm going to take new ones, and I never seem to get around to it. I made an appointment on Thursday to get my brows waxed and my hair trimmed and straightened, so that's my way of committing to myself that I'm actually going to take some this weekend.
I bought a cheap web cam this week. That's another commitment. Not to cam for anyone but to have it set up so that when the urge strikes me to take a picture, I can do it on the fly. For instance, on my list of blog topics is one about hands - I have great hands - and I want to take a picture of one to use in the blog. Trying to find my camera, check the batteries, turn it on, take it, download it, save it, edit it, upload it...geez that's a lot of messing around. The webcam will cut out some of those steps for me, and I can be free to be much more creative. At least, that's my thought.
When I got all dressed up Saturday night for my cousin's wedding, I actually took the time to do my makeup as well. I don't wear a lot of makeup; most of the time I don't wear any at all. I don't know if it's laziness or antipathy or just a hold-over from not wanting to draw any attention to myself that makes that so, but it is. I forget, until I actually take the time to do it right, that when I do my eyes and my lips, I do look pretty damn cute. I'm hoping new pictures around will remind me of that more often.
I always liked to add a picture to my blog entries. I'd like to do that and be able to use more pictures I take, and less that I take from the internet. It lets me me a little bit exhibitionistic (safely) and a little bit more creative, which is something that drives me.
We'll see how that goes *grin*.
I've had that red sweater picture as an avatar for the last year or more. And while it's a nice picture of me, I need to replace it.
I keep saying every weekend that I'm going to take new ones, and I never seem to get around to it. I made an appointment on Thursday to get my brows waxed and my hair trimmed and straightened, so that's my way of committing to myself that I'm actually going to take some this weekend.
I bought a cheap web cam this week. That's another commitment. Not to cam for anyone but to have it set up so that when the urge strikes me to take a picture, I can do it on the fly. For instance, on my list of blog topics is one about hands - I have great hands - and I want to take a picture of one to use in the blog. Trying to find my camera, check the batteries, turn it on, take it, download it, save it, edit it, upload it...geez that's a lot of messing around. The webcam will cut out some of those steps for me, and I can be free to be much more creative. At least, that's my thought.
When I got all dressed up Saturday night for my cousin's wedding, I actually took the time to do my makeup as well. I don't wear a lot of makeup; most of the time I don't wear any at all. I don't know if it's laziness or antipathy or just a hold-over from not wanting to draw any attention to myself that makes that so, but it is. I forget, until I actually take the time to do it right, that when I do my eyes and my lips, I do look pretty damn cute. I'm hoping new pictures around will remind me of that more often.
I always liked to add a picture to my blog entries. I'd like to do that and be able to use more pictures I take, and less that I take from the internet. It lets me me a little bit exhibitionistic (safely) and a little bit more creative, which is something that drives me.
We'll see how that goes *grin*.
Side Effects
Many years ago, while living in Wyoming with C for the first time, he got very upset with me about the fact that I could not take a compliment to save my life. He went so far as to tell me that it made him feel stupid to say something to me, and to have me deny it, or brush it off as if it didn't mean anything.
It's only been the past few years that I've really understood what he meant by that. At the time of his little speech, I couldn't allow myself to believe anything that he said about my physicality. He could compliment my writing or my intelligence anytime and I accepted that gracefully and thankfully, but one word about my physical appearance and I blushed profusely and shook my head at him, as if he were wrong.
He wasn't wrong. I was. (oh god and how he would love to be reading that about now. His favorite words from me, ever: "I was wrong.")
I realize that it's hard for someone to hear good things about themselves when they can't seem to dredge up anything internally to think about themselves in that way. I realize it, because I lived it for so many years. My change in attitude there is not all about the weight loss I've experienced. It's also about general self-esteem and actually feeling good about who I am most of the time.
But what those of us who have experienced, or do experience, a compliment that you can't mentally digest don't realize is how we're taking an act of genuineness from another human being and basically throwing it back in their face. They're trying to make us feel good. And we're making them feel bad for doing it.
In the case of C and I, my complete denial any time he told me I was pretty or sexy made him feel as if I were calling him stupid; that he didn't know what beauty was. No one likes being made to feel stupid. And no one likes to have their tastes challenged in such a way. He broke me of that, at least superficially, and I started to be able to look him in the eye and be able to just say 'thank you', even if I did still blush a little. I don't know if I ever truly believed it, but at least he broke me of making him feel like an idiot, which was as far from my intentions as I could have been.
You also have to bear in mind that if you think poorly of yourself for long enough, you start to become a self-fulfilling prophecy. For many years, I wasn't 'seriously fat'. I was maybe a size 18, which is definitely overweight but not what I'd term 'obese' by any means. But I felt fat. And I looked fat. And I saw fat in the mirror. And I called myself fat. And I stopped caring about how I looked, because I didn't believe anyone *else cared about how I looked and then guess what? I got seriously fat.
I swear sometimes we do more damage to ourselves than anyone could ever do *to us.
It's hard to act with grace when someone says something sincere about yourself that you don't quite believe. But it can be overcome with a little work. You know you don't want to hurt your friend/lover/family member by denying their opinion - making them feel bad - right? A little inner grace, a small smile, a gracious thank you - can make the difference between a good moment and a bad moment.
Give yourself a good moment.
It's only been the past few years that I've really understood what he meant by that. At the time of his little speech, I couldn't allow myself to believe anything that he said about my physicality. He could compliment my writing or my intelligence anytime and I accepted that gracefully and thankfully, but one word about my physical appearance and I blushed profusely and shook my head at him, as if he were wrong.
He wasn't wrong. I was. (oh god and how he would love to be reading that about now. His favorite words from me, ever: "I was wrong.")
I realize that it's hard for someone to hear good things about themselves when they can't seem to dredge up anything internally to think about themselves in that way. I realize it, because I lived it for so many years. My change in attitude there is not all about the weight loss I've experienced. It's also about general self-esteem and actually feeling good about who I am most of the time.
But what those of us who have experienced, or do experience, a compliment that you can't mentally digest don't realize is how we're taking an act of genuineness from another human being and basically throwing it back in their face. They're trying to make us feel good. And we're making them feel bad for doing it.
In the case of C and I, my complete denial any time he told me I was pretty or sexy made him feel as if I were calling him stupid; that he didn't know what beauty was. No one likes being made to feel stupid. And no one likes to have their tastes challenged in such a way. He broke me of that, at least superficially, and I started to be able to look him in the eye and be able to just say 'thank you', even if I did still blush a little. I don't know if I ever truly believed it, but at least he broke me of making him feel like an idiot, which was as far from my intentions as I could have been.
You also have to bear in mind that if you think poorly of yourself for long enough, you start to become a self-fulfilling prophecy. For many years, I wasn't 'seriously fat'. I was maybe a size 18, which is definitely overweight but not what I'd term 'obese' by any means. But I felt fat. And I looked fat. And I saw fat in the mirror. And I called myself fat. And I stopped caring about how I looked, because I didn't believe anyone *else cared about how I looked and then guess what? I got seriously fat.
I swear sometimes we do more damage to ourselves than anyone could ever do *to us.
It's hard to act with grace when someone says something sincere about yourself that you don't quite believe. But it can be overcome with a little work. You know you don't want to hurt your friend/lover/family member by denying their opinion - making them feel bad - right? A little inner grace, a small smile, a gracious thank you - can make the difference between a good moment and a bad moment.
Give yourself a good moment.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Better living through Expression
I realize I've posted a lot in the last week, especially considering that I haven't been writing at all for quite awhile. There's a reason for that. I'm just not sure what it is.
But I feel better when I'm writing. Even if it's about inane things like what I wore to the wedding and how little things affect me. I have a whole list of sexual topics to get back to (in case you're waiting for that :p) but getting back into the habit of writing itself takes a little time, and I'm working on that now.
I forget, when I'm mired down in a myriad of bullshit how much better I feel when I'm actually putting words to ...err...screen I guess. There are any number of things that keep me from doing that, but the baseline of it is -- I keep myself from doing it.
I have a piece of fiction (of the xrated variety) still in my head from a dream I had last week, and I hope to get around to that this week, too. If I can set my personal struggles aside long enough to open up my mind. That's typically where my writing stops; when I just don't have the mental and emotional energy to address is.
Fact is, as I've said before, my writing is very personal to me. Sharing things here is something I did not choose to do lightly. Publishing numerous stories, articles, and even my book of poetry was a pretty big leap of faith for me. As Anna Nallick says, in 2 AM
2 AM and I'm still awake, writing a song
If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you'll use them, however you want to
I can remember in times past, writing numerous stories for dominants I was involved in, and after the first two or three, the enthusiasm they showed (especially C in this case) dried up, and half the time, they didn't even acknowledge having read them. I found a way around that eventually, and many of those stories went on to be published in Prometheus and other magazines like that. They found an appreciative audience.
But because my words are so personal to me, having them go unacknowledged by someone they were written particularly for, was something I took personally. And while I try not to do that anymore, I do still occasionally run into it.
Then again, I've learned how to not take a lot of things personally. There is even a little post-it index card hanging on my desk at home that says "It has nothing to do with me." I needed it for awhile. I rarely have to look at it anymore.
Regardless, what I share here is different. And if you've ever been curious about why I don't post stories here in their entirety, that's a big part of the reason (the rest of it being that as with most writers on the internet, I have been ripped off before, and I'm not leaving myself open to having it happen again.).
But I feel better when I'm writing. Even if it's about inane things like what I wore to the wedding and how little things affect me. I have a whole list of sexual topics to get back to (in case you're waiting for that :p) but getting back into the habit of writing itself takes a little time, and I'm working on that now.
I forget, when I'm mired down in a myriad of bullshit how much better I feel when I'm actually putting words to ...err...screen I guess. There are any number of things that keep me from doing that, but the baseline of it is -- I keep myself from doing it.
I have a piece of fiction (of the xrated variety) still in my head from a dream I had last week, and I hope to get around to that this week, too. If I can set my personal struggles aside long enough to open up my mind. That's typically where my writing stops; when I just don't have the mental and emotional energy to address is.
Fact is, as I've said before, my writing is very personal to me. Sharing things here is something I did not choose to do lightly. Publishing numerous stories, articles, and even my book of poetry was a pretty big leap of faith for me. As Anna Nallick says, in 2 AM
2 AM and I'm still awake, writing a song
If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you'll use them, however you want to
I can remember in times past, writing numerous stories for dominants I was involved in, and after the first two or three, the enthusiasm they showed (especially C in this case) dried up, and half the time, they didn't even acknowledge having read them. I found a way around that eventually, and many of those stories went on to be published in Prometheus and other magazines like that. They found an appreciative audience.
But because my words are so personal to me, having them go unacknowledged by someone they were written particularly for, was something I took personally. And while I try not to do that anymore, I do still occasionally run into it.
Then again, I've learned how to not take a lot of things personally. There is even a little post-it index card hanging on my desk at home that says "It has nothing to do with me." I needed it for awhile. I rarely have to look at it anymore.
Regardless, what I share here is different. And if you've ever been curious about why I don't post stories here in their entirety, that's a big part of the reason (the rest of it being that as with most writers on the internet, I have been ripped off before, and I'm not leaving myself open to having it happen again.).
Dear Campy Camper
(This is reference to a comment I received back in January. )
You didn't leave me an email address - give me a holler at the one here, and we'll catch up.
You didn't leave me an email address - give me a holler at the one here, and we'll catch up.
Appropriate?
The wedding was great fun :) I'm glad that I went, and I even managed to keep from punching my sister out by keeping my back to her the entire time.
Apparently, cream/vanilla/beige are my colors. Everyone commented on my outfit at the wedding Saturday night and said that those colors looked wondeful on me.
How boring is THAT?
I picked the outfit because it was "family appropriate" and "wedding appropriate". There was nothing wrong with it, per se. It was a high-necked sweater with seed pearls sewn on the collar and cuffs, and a just-past-the-knee length linen skirt, and off-white heels. It was approrpriate for the wedding, and would be appropriate for a work function, or a social event that required better than jeans. All in all, it was fine.
But typically, I wear a lot of red, black, white, purple. Beige is... well, beige or off-white are just not in my wardrobe much. I don't wear a lot of dresses or heels. Not because I don't like them, but because I don't have them, or have need to buy them.
I actually bought 2 skirts. The grey-heather one I *really liked didn't feel as appropriate for the wedding, as it was a little shorter. But I'm glad I bought it. I will wear it somewhere and I bought a sweet pair of patent leather t-strap heels to go with it. The grey one is just more - me. It has some black pattern around the bottom of it and it's just more something that I would wear. I'll put a red sweater or blouse with it sometime and actually wear it.
Several years ago, M. bought me a leather trench coat in California. Vented, back-split, lined; it was - and is - a gorgeous coat - a sexy coat. When it got to be too big for me, I gave it to my mom, because she loves it, too. I don't own a long coat anymore, so I had asked her to bring it this weekend so I could wear it over my dress. I can wrap the sides of that coat around to my back now, it's so huge on me. But it did remind me why I loved that coat. And I see a new one in my future very soon. And hey, it's brown, same family as the vanilla/creme/beige, right? right? :)
There were two highlights of the night for me. One was getting to spend some time with my cousin and his wife, both of which I just adore. The other was the jaw-dropped looks on some people's faces who haven't seen me since I had the surgery. Priceless, I tell you.
In addition to that, I got to enjoy myself as a single woman at a function like this. I flirted, danced, had a good time being myself. Brought home a phone number but probably won't call it (shame he's not my type at all), and all in all enjoyed the day.
I also enjoyed the 7 hours over 2 days in the car, because I now have a full list of topics to blog again :)
Apparently, cream/vanilla/beige are my colors. Everyone commented on my outfit at the wedding Saturday night and said that those colors looked wondeful on me.
How boring is THAT?
I picked the outfit because it was "family appropriate" and "wedding appropriate". There was nothing wrong with it, per se. It was a high-necked sweater with seed pearls sewn on the collar and cuffs, and a just-past-the-knee length linen skirt, and off-white heels. It was approrpriate for the wedding, and would be appropriate for a work function, or a social event that required better than jeans. All in all, it was fine.
But typically, I wear a lot of red, black, white, purple. Beige is... well, beige or off-white are just not in my wardrobe much. I don't wear a lot of dresses or heels. Not because I don't like them, but because I don't have them, or have need to buy them.
I actually bought 2 skirts. The grey-heather one I *really liked didn't feel as appropriate for the wedding, as it was a little shorter. But I'm glad I bought it. I will wear it somewhere and I bought a sweet pair of patent leather t-strap heels to go with it. The grey one is just more - me. It has some black pattern around the bottom of it and it's just more something that I would wear. I'll put a red sweater or blouse with it sometime and actually wear it.
Several years ago, M. bought me a leather trench coat in California. Vented, back-split, lined; it was - and is - a gorgeous coat - a sexy coat. When it got to be too big for me, I gave it to my mom, because she loves it, too. I don't own a long coat anymore, so I had asked her to bring it this weekend so I could wear it over my dress. I can wrap the sides of that coat around to my back now, it's so huge on me. But it did remind me why I loved that coat. And I see a new one in my future very soon. And hey, it's brown, same family as the vanilla/creme/beige, right? right? :)
There were two highlights of the night for me. One was getting to spend some time with my cousin and his wife, both of which I just adore. The other was the jaw-dropped looks on some people's faces who haven't seen me since I had the surgery. Priceless, I tell you.
In addition to that, I got to enjoy myself as a single woman at a function like this. I flirted, danced, had a good time being myself. Brought home a phone number but probably won't call it (shame he's not my type at all), and all in all enjoyed the day.
I also enjoyed the 7 hours over 2 days in the car, because I now have a full list of topics to blog again :)
Friday, March 28, 2008
Identify
About six weeks ago, I had three inches chopped off my hair.
Now, anyone who knows me, knows how much I love my hair. It's probably the only thing about me that I'm truly vain about. But because it was down to my waist, and because it grew oddly right after the surgery, it was ragged looking and I wanted it to be more polished. So my beautician - sweet girl that she is - meekly said the most she'd have to take was 3 inches, then asked again a couple times to make sure I was sure before she put the scissors anywhere near me.
It truly did look awesome when she was done. She always straightens it for me, too, and it looks absolutely gorgeous when I leave the salon, every time. It still does look awesome, when I take the time to straighten it.
Now, I love the wave in my hair. Don't get me wrong. And when I put it up in a pony tail or in a headband, I let the wave do it's thing. I think it looks great.
But when I want to wear it down like I plan to for the wedding tomorrow, I straighten it out.
I struggled with wanting to cut it though. Because for so long, I have been "The girl with the long blonde hair". So I wondered if I cut it, would I lose part of what I've been?
I gave up saying that I was a submissive. While I believe that I have strong submissive tendencies and I know that being submissive to a dominant man in bed makes me whimper and beg like a ... well use your imagination... I am not A submissive anymore. I haven't been seriously submissive to anyone in well over 3 years and I can't imagine doing it 24/7 again anytime soon in my life, so I stopped identifying as one.
Do I need to be "the girl with the long blond hair"? No.
No. I think there's plenty of other things about me that are far more interesting than the 3 inches of hair I left laying on the beauty salon floor. I don't need to be identified by any one or two things.
Thank goodness *grin*
Now, anyone who knows me, knows how much I love my hair. It's probably the only thing about me that I'm truly vain about. But because it was down to my waist, and because it grew oddly right after the surgery, it was ragged looking and I wanted it to be more polished. So my beautician - sweet girl that she is - meekly said the most she'd have to take was 3 inches, then asked again a couple times to make sure I was sure before she put the scissors anywhere near me.
It truly did look awesome when she was done. She always straightens it for me, too, and it looks absolutely gorgeous when I leave the salon, every time. It still does look awesome, when I take the time to straighten it.
Now, I love the wave in my hair. Don't get me wrong. And when I put it up in a pony tail or in a headband, I let the wave do it's thing. I think it looks great.
But when I want to wear it down like I plan to for the wedding tomorrow, I straighten it out.
I struggled with wanting to cut it though. Because for so long, I have been "The girl with the long blonde hair". So I wondered if I cut it, would I lose part of what I've been?
I gave up saying that I was a submissive. While I believe that I have strong submissive tendencies and I know that being submissive to a dominant man in bed makes me whimper and beg like a ... well use your imagination... I am not A submissive anymore. I haven't been seriously submissive to anyone in well over 3 years and I can't imagine doing it 24/7 again anytime soon in my life, so I stopped identifying as one.
Do I need to be "the girl with the long blond hair"? No.
No. I think there's plenty of other things about me that are far more interesting than the 3 inches of hair I left laying on the beauty salon floor. I don't need to be identified by any one or two things.
Thank goodness *grin*
Beautiful and Sexy
I seem to be carrying themes today. So I’ll just stick with that. Whatever works, right?
On the subject of positive body confidence – comes this: What makes sexy and beautiful?
Many days, I wake up, brush my hair, look in the mirror and am pleased with what I see. Of course I’d like to get these last 15 pounds off and of course I’d like my skin to be clearer and brighter and of course I’d like my tits to be perfect little ski slopes, but all in all, I’m pretty pleased.
Then there are other days when I am displeased with my appearance. Not painfully so, but enough that I stare into the reflection and give myself a little pep talk about how far I’ve come and how in the back of my mind I know that I’ve gone from who I was to who I am.
And who am I?
I’m a sexy bitch.
That doesn’t all come from the outside. As a matter of fact, the majority of it comes from the inside. As I’ve grown up (and smaller), I’ve accepted that this is who I am.
There are spiritual beings that base their lives on their beliefs. There are family beings that base the value of their lives on having and raising children. There are work-aholics, bar-aholics and game-aholics. Everyone, at some point in their life, has something that they are passionate about. And for the last 20 years or so, for me, that has been sex.
I don’t mean having it non-stop. I mean living it. To me, there is a huge difference. Passion for sex is about much more than the physical aspects of it.
So it’s not such a leap for someone who doesn’t necessarily have the perfect body to be able to look into the mirror and say, “I am a sexy bitch.” I’m not afraid to try something new. I’m not afraid to wear something outrageous. I’m not afraid to let someone direct me and I’m not afraid to direct someone else. There is so little that I fear when it comes to sex. I wish I could carry that fearlessness into all parts of my life.
You don’t have to be a size 2 with C tits to be beautiful and sexy. You don’t have to be 6’4” with blue eyes and blonde hair and perfectly defined abs to be beautiful and sexy, either.
You just have to know, inside yourself, that you are – beautiful and sexy.
On the subject of positive body confidence – comes this: What makes sexy and beautiful?
Many days, I wake up, brush my hair, look in the mirror and am pleased with what I see. Of course I’d like to get these last 15 pounds off and of course I’d like my skin to be clearer and brighter and of course I’d like my tits to be perfect little ski slopes, but all in all, I’m pretty pleased.
Then there are other days when I am displeased with my appearance. Not painfully so, but enough that I stare into the reflection and give myself a little pep talk about how far I’ve come and how in the back of my mind I know that I’ve gone from who I was to who I am.
And who am I?
I’m a sexy bitch.
That doesn’t all come from the outside. As a matter of fact, the majority of it comes from the inside. As I’ve grown up (and smaller), I’ve accepted that this is who I am.
There are spiritual beings that base their lives on their beliefs. There are family beings that base the value of their lives on having and raising children. There are work-aholics, bar-aholics and game-aholics. Everyone, at some point in their life, has something that they are passionate about. And for the last 20 years or so, for me, that has been sex.
I don’t mean having it non-stop. I mean living it. To me, there is a huge difference. Passion for sex is about much more than the physical aspects of it.
So it’s not such a leap for someone who doesn’t necessarily have the perfect body to be able to look into the mirror and say, “I am a sexy bitch.” I’m not afraid to try something new. I’m not afraid to wear something outrageous. I’m not afraid to let someone direct me and I’m not afraid to direct someone else. There is so little that I fear when it comes to sex. I wish I could carry that fearlessness into all parts of my life.
You don’t have to be a size 2 with C tits to be beautiful and sexy. You don’t have to be 6’4” with blue eyes and blonde hair and perfectly defined abs to be beautiful and sexy, either.
You just have to know, inside yourself, that you are – beautiful and sexy.
Style
According to a new survey, women say they feel more comfortable undressing in front of men than they do undressing in front of other women. They say that women are too judgmental, where, of course, men are just grateful.
Robert De Niro
I don't know about grateful. But I do know that he's right.
I'd much rather get naked, or at least down to some cute little piece of lingerie with a man that I would with a woman.
I'm definitely not 'fully there' with body confidence yet. But I do know that I look better than I did three years ago. This weekend, I'm going to see my cousin whom I haven't seen in a long time. The last picture of myself before my surgery that I have is one that was taken with him. This weekend, I'm getting a new picture to set besides it. Before and almost-after. Then, and now.
I went to see a plastic surgeon last year, to see what can be done about the issues that have arisen with my body since I lost all of this weight. Things are not where they're supposed to be. Things do not look like they're supposed to look. And while I don't believe for a minute that I'm a freak of nature or anything, I do know that I can definitely look better than I do right now.
Sure. Soon as I come up with the 25 grand it'll cost to repair all this damage I did to myself for so many years.
In the meantime, there is muscle definition I could build and strength I can gain. I do exercise occasionally but not nearly as much as I should. It's not even that I lack motivation for it - I don't. It's that I seem to lack energy by the time I get home from work every night. I need to find it, though. I know I can do better.
But regardless of the issues I have with all that, again, I know that I look better naked, I have more energy once I am naked and I feel much more comfortable with my surroundings and anyone I happen to be naked with.
Male, that is.
I still don't think I have very good perception as far as what I really look like now as opposed to what I think I look like. But it's getting better.
But I continue to look at other women -- how they dress, how they carry themselves, and compare them to me. We all do that, either consciously or subconsciously (women that is). I catch myself saying "I'd never wear that outfit, it makes her look fat." or "that sweater looks makes her chest look huge". I don't think these are bad things, and I don't think women as a whole are bad for thinking them or occasionally saying them to someone that you're comfortable saying it to.
My style for most of my life has been "Whatever makes me not look fat." If it was red, it was a bonus. If it was black and white, another bonus. And if it was slightly bohemian - score! Had I been the size I am now for most of my life, I'd have probably been one of those girls who dresses like Stevie Nicks. All flowy skirts and high heeled boots. I love that stuff. But now I'm kind of a jeans and sweater girl. Jeans can hide a multitude of things, providing you don't wear them like a sausage skin. And sweaters -- well,sweaters are every girl's friend. For the most part, that part of my style hasn't changed.
But what I wear under stuff certainly has.
I refuse to wear cheap bras anymore. While I'd still wearing a 36DD, (I'd rather be a 36D, but hey, I'll take what I can get), I can get stylish and pretty bras in my size from Victoria's Secret. I won't buy a bra from anywhere else right now, because I like theirs, and they fit me perfectly.
Panties, however, are a whole other story.
I never gave much thought to them before the last three years. They were a necessary evil (except when I was with M. Then, they were totally off limits), and they just did their job. Now though, I'm much pickier about what I wear under my jeans. I'll bet I have 40 pairs in my drawer right now. Thongs, bikinis, boyshorts, tangas. Anything I see that looks like something I'd like, I buy it. I guess I've gotten a little addicted in that regard. What I put on in the morning depends wholly on my mood -- or -- the mood I want to set for the day. Whether I wear any to bed or not depends totally on my feeling as of the moment I get undressed. They've become more than a necessary evil; they are a wardrobe mood-setter.
Fun, huh? :)
I get catalogs from both Frederick's and VS on a weekly basis. I almost have to make myself throw them away anymore *grin*.
I guess I could have a worse addiction.
So, should all of that make some male that I get naked with feel grateful? Not unless it's because he's found himself someone who enjoys looking as good as she can with what she's got.
Because when I look good, I feel good.
And when I feel good, I'm unstoppable *grin*.
Robert De Niro
I don't know about grateful. But I do know that he's right.
I'd much rather get naked, or at least down to some cute little piece of lingerie with a man that I would with a woman.
I'm definitely not 'fully there' with body confidence yet. But I do know that I look better than I did three years ago. This weekend, I'm going to see my cousin whom I haven't seen in a long time. The last picture of myself before my surgery that I have is one that was taken with him. This weekend, I'm getting a new picture to set besides it. Before and almost-after. Then, and now.
I went to see a plastic surgeon last year, to see what can be done about the issues that have arisen with my body since I lost all of this weight. Things are not where they're supposed to be. Things do not look like they're supposed to look. And while I don't believe for a minute that I'm a freak of nature or anything, I do know that I can definitely look better than I do right now.
Sure. Soon as I come up with the 25 grand it'll cost to repair all this damage I did to myself for so many years.
In the meantime, there is muscle definition I could build and strength I can gain. I do exercise occasionally but not nearly as much as I should. It's not even that I lack motivation for it - I don't. It's that I seem to lack energy by the time I get home from work every night. I need to find it, though. I know I can do better.
But regardless of the issues I have with all that, again, I know that I look better naked, I have more energy once I am naked and I feel much more comfortable with my surroundings and anyone I happen to be naked with.
Male, that is.
I still don't think I have very good perception as far as what I really look like now as opposed to what I think I look like. But it's getting better.
But I continue to look at other women -- how they dress, how they carry themselves, and compare them to me. We all do that, either consciously or subconsciously (women that is). I catch myself saying "I'd never wear that outfit, it makes her look fat." or "that sweater looks makes her chest look huge". I don't think these are bad things, and I don't think women as a whole are bad for thinking them or occasionally saying them to someone that you're comfortable saying it to.
My style for most of my life has been "Whatever makes me not look fat." If it was red, it was a bonus. If it was black and white, another bonus. And if it was slightly bohemian - score! Had I been the size I am now for most of my life, I'd have probably been one of those girls who dresses like Stevie Nicks. All flowy skirts and high heeled boots. I love that stuff. But now I'm kind of a jeans and sweater girl. Jeans can hide a multitude of things, providing you don't wear them like a sausage skin. And sweaters -- well,sweaters are every girl's friend. For the most part, that part of my style hasn't changed.
But what I wear under stuff certainly has.
I refuse to wear cheap bras anymore. While I'd still wearing a 36DD, (I'd rather be a 36D, but hey, I'll take what I can get), I can get stylish and pretty bras in my size from Victoria's Secret. I won't buy a bra from anywhere else right now, because I like theirs, and they fit me perfectly.
Panties, however, are a whole other story.
I never gave much thought to them before the last three years. They were a necessary evil (except when I was with M. Then, they were totally off limits), and they just did their job. Now though, I'm much pickier about what I wear under my jeans. I'll bet I have 40 pairs in my drawer right now. Thongs, bikinis, boyshorts, tangas. Anything I see that looks like something I'd like, I buy it. I guess I've gotten a little addicted in that regard. What I put on in the morning depends wholly on my mood -- or -- the mood I want to set for the day. Whether I wear any to bed or not depends totally on my feeling as of the moment I get undressed. They've become more than a necessary evil; they are a wardrobe mood-setter.
Fun, huh? :)
I get catalogs from both Frederick's and VS on a weekly basis. I almost have to make myself throw them away anymore *grin*.
I guess I could have a worse addiction.
So, should all of that make some male that I get naked with feel grateful? Not unless it's because he's found himself someone who enjoys looking as good as she can with what she's got.
Because when I look good, I feel good.
And when I feel good, I'm unstoppable *grin*.
Balconies
...and then I finally finished the one about the balcony last month, too.
“But you’re probably right.” He said, reaching down and pulling her chemise up over her ass, exposing it and her cunt to the warm air. “I probably will fuck you. Well, on one condition.”
She swallowed again. “And what’s that?”
“You’ll have to be quiet.” He teased.
Taking a deep breath in, she replied. “I can probably manage that.”
“Probably? If you can’t, we’ll have to settle for …”
“I can. I can.” She quickly said.
“Good girl.” He ran his hand lightly over her ass, and then slapped it, and listened with a grin as she sucked in her breath.
“That’s not helping.”
“Who said I had to help?”
She groaned, but pushed her ass backward toward his hand all the same.
“You’re wet for me.”
“Yes.” She whispered.
“So soon after I fucked your ass…”
“Yes.”
He tsked at her. “Such a slut.”
“This is news?” she asked, rotating her hips a little, to stay in contact with his hand.
“Hush.” He slapped her ass again, and knew she was grinning. “Don’t make me change my mind about sliding my thick, hard cock into your pussy.”
She moaned softly, and moved her hips back toward him. “Don’t …”
“Don’t?”
“Don’t change your mind …”
“Ask me nicely.” He whispered, leaning over her and grinding against her ass.
She let out a long breath, and said very quietly. “Please fuck me.”
“Please?”
She nodded vigorously. “Please… I want your cock.”
He parted the towel, and guided his cock out of it, rubbing it across her ass. “Are you sure you can be quiet?”
“I’m sure.” She said, her voice barely audible, almost lost in the breeze.
“I hope so.” He took his cock in his hand and parted her slick outer lips with it. “We don’t want to call any attention to ourselves, do we?”
She suppressed a smirk. “No… we don’t.”
“Why don’t I believe you?” he asked, sliding the head of his cock up and down between her legs.
“But you’re probably right.” He said, reaching down and pulling her chemise up over her ass, exposing it and her cunt to the warm air. “I probably will fuck you. Well, on one condition.”
She swallowed again. “And what’s that?”
“You’ll have to be quiet.” He teased.
Taking a deep breath in, she replied. “I can probably manage that.”
“Probably? If you can’t, we’ll have to settle for …”
“I can. I can.” She quickly said.
“Good girl.” He ran his hand lightly over her ass, and then slapped it, and listened with a grin as she sucked in her breath.
“That’s not helping.”
“Who said I had to help?”
She groaned, but pushed her ass backward toward his hand all the same.
“You’re wet for me.”
“Yes.” She whispered.
“So soon after I fucked your ass…”
“Yes.”
He tsked at her. “Such a slut.”
“This is news?” she asked, rotating her hips a little, to stay in contact with his hand.
“Hush.” He slapped her ass again, and knew she was grinning. “Don’t make me change my mind about sliding my thick, hard cock into your pussy.”
She moaned softly, and moved her hips back toward him. “Don’t …”
“Don’t?”
“Don’t change your mind …”
“Ask me nicely.” He whispered, leaning over her and grinding against her ass.
She let out a long breath, and said very quietly. “Please fuck me.”
“Please?”
She nodded vigorously. “Please… I want your cock.”
He parted the towel, and guided his cock out of it, rubbing it across her ass. “Are you sure you can be quiet?”
“I’m sure.” She said, her voice barely audible, almost lost in the breeze.
“I hope so.” He took his cock in his hand and parted her slick outer lips with it. “We don’t want to call any attention to ourselves, do we?”
She suppressed a smirk. “No… we don’t.”
“Why don’t I believe you?” he asked, sliding the head of his cock up and down between her legs.
"Show Me"
I realize I haven't posted many fiction snippets lately. Mostly because I haven't written much. I'm very disappointed about that. I miss it.
Here's something from a relatively recently finished one. Earlier this year, I think.
Enjoy~
I leaned back and moaned. To anyone else, it might look like an ordinary toy, but to me, it was something else. It was his cock. The shape and size were alarmingly similar, almost as if it had been made from a mold of him. I bought it for no other reason; it was for me to have when I couldn’t have him.
I planted my feet firmly on the bed, and lifted my hips up slightly, angling toward the toy.
My back arched up off the bed a little as I pushed more firmly. I felt myself get wetter as the toy pushed me apart and I stretched to accommodate it, shuddering a little.
He didn’t speak. But when my eyes fluttered open, his gaze was fixed firmly between my thighs, watching. That made me take another deep breath, and whimper. His eyes flashed up and caught me watching him.
“What are you watching when you fuck yourself and I’m not here?”
“Nothing.” I whispered.
“Are you fantasizing about me pushing into you? Are you remembering a time when I fucked you hard and fast?”
“Yes.” I pushed the dildo deeper inside myself, feeling my walls expand to accept it greedily, just like they did when it was his cock.
“Then you should do that. And tell me.”
I closed my eyes tightly, feeling my legs shake as I pulled the latex cock out, just to the head, before pushing it back in, deeper.
“Tell you … what I fantasize about?” I asked between gasps.
“Yes.”
I was silent for a moment, my hand toying with the dildo, turning it back and forth a little. “I think about you fucking me from behind.”
“Where?” He asked insistently. I felt the bed move a little, and opened my eyes. His hand was wrapped solidly around his cock again. My legs shook a little, and I pushed the dildo further inside me, gasping as I tried to answer.
“Here. In that hotel. Bent over my desk…”
“It changes.”
I nodded. My left hand slide down the front of the chemise and landed between my thighs, my index finger hovering over my clit again, as I struggled to push the dildo deeper yet inside me, wetting it, getting ready. “It does.”
“Why that? Why not you riding me? Or me lying on top of you?”
I squeezed my eyes shut, and pushed the dildo in deeper; as far as it would go, and let out a whimper. I started to slide it back out slowly, and then pushed it back in hard before I answered. “Because that’s how you like me best.”
He chuckled a little. “Even when she’s getting off for herself, my little slut is always thinking about what I want, hm?”
My index finger started to dance on the top of my clit, and I spread my thighs a little more before starting to fuck myself properly with the toy. “I just know that when you’re getting what you want, I’m getting what I want.” I eeked out.
“Good girl.”
Here's something from a relatively recently finished one. Earlier this year, I think.
Enjoy~
I leaned back and moaned. To anyone else, it might look like an ordinary toy, but to me, it was something else. It was his cock. The shape and size were alarmingly similar, almost as if it had been made from a mold of him. I bought it for no other reason; it was for me to have when I couldn’t have him.
I planted my feet firmly on the bed, and lifted my hips up slightly, angling toward the toy.
My back arched up off the bed a little as I pushed more firmly. I felt myself get wetter as the toy pushed me apart and I stretched to accommodate it, shuddering a little.
He didn’t speak. But when my eyes fluttered open, his gaze was fixed firmly between my thighs, watching. That made me take another deep breath, and whimper. His eyes flashed up and caught me watching him.
“What are you watching when you fuck yourself and I’m not here?”
“Nothing.” I whispered.
“Are you fantasizing about me pushing into you? Are you remembering a time when I fucked you hard and fast?”
“Yes.” I pushed the dildo deeper inside myself, feeling my walls expand to accept it greedily, just like they did when it was his cock.
“Then you should do that. And tell me.”
I closed my eyes tightly, feeling my legs shake as I pulled the latex cock out, just to the head, before pushing it back in, deeper.
“Tell you … what I fantasize about?” I asked between gasps.
“Yes.”
I was silent for a moment, my hand toying with the dildo, turning it back and forth a little. “I think about you fucking me from behind.”
“Where?” He asked insistently. I felt the bed move a little, and opened my eyes. His hand was wrapped solidly around his cock again. My legs shook a little, and I pushed the dildo further inside me, gasping as I tried to answer.
“Here. In that hotel. Bent over my desk…”
“It changes.”
I nodded. My left hand slide down the front of the chemise and landed between my thighs, my index finger hovering over my clit again, as I struggled to push the dildo deeper yet inside me, wetting it, getting ready. “It does.”
“Why that? Why not you riding me? Or me lying on top of you?”
I squeezed my eyes shut, and pushed the dildo in deeper; as far as it would go, and let out a whimper. I started to slide it back out slowly, and then pushed it back in hard before I answered. “Because that’s how you like me best.”
He chuckled a little. “Even when she’s getting off for herself, my little slut is always thinking about what I want, hm?”
My index finger started to dance on the top of my clit, and I spread my thighs a little more before starting to fuck myself properly with the toy. “I just know that when you’re getting what you want, I’m getting what I want.” I eeked out.
“Good girl.”
Ego and Sexuality
Writing about ego, and then writing about sex brings up an interesting topic.
Let's be honest. There are people in this world whose whole identities are wrapped around their sexuality - how they look, how they fuck, and how they look while fucking. Narcissism at it's finest? Or just a lack of self-esteem in other areas of their lives?
And there are other people who simply don't get laid because they think they're bad at it. They'd rather jack off in the privacy of their own bathrooms than risk being laughed at - or pitied - in someone else's bedroom.
People exist that feel that their sexual prowess is their only redeeming quality. Oh - they'd never say that, of course. But you can see it in them if you look closely enough (and you know that I do).
I can't remember a time in my life that I've thought of myself as a lousy lay. Even when I was very heavy, my sexuality tended to supersede any insecurity I felt about being naked with someone, and I tended to enjoy sex completely. (which undoubtedly goes back to the whole "sex is better when I like someone and feel comfortable with them" thing). I may have not been as open as I am now, and I might have had a few more insecurities, but I think I always had a healthy sexual self-esteem.
What a shame I didn't have it out of the sack , too. Better late than never, I suppose *wink*
I think that our sexual-self-esteem has a lot more to do with how we feel about ourselves overall than people believe. You can be an insecure, beautiful woman or a butt-ugly, confident man - why? Because contrary to what the makeup and fashion industries would tell you in this country -- there's more to it than looking good. There's also believing that you *are* good. And part of that *good* is believing that you can entice a member of the opposite (or same!) sex into the sack.
Confidence in yourself can make up the miles between beautiful and butt-ugly. It can also take you quite the opposite way if you don't believe in yourself.
Having said that, one of the biggest 'ick' factors I have ever encountered in bed with someone is arrogance. The line (ooo another line yikes) between healthy self-confidence and arrogance is not all that thick. You can go from "This is fun, we are great together" to "You should be cumming every 20 seconds because seriously, I am just that good. Why aren't you more flattered that I'm fucking you?" in less time than it takes to slip a condom on. Luckily, I haven't encountered much of that.
Why?
Because I'm goddamn picky, that's why :)
Let's be honest. There are people in this world whose whole identities are wrapped around their sexuality - how they look, how they fuck, and how they look while fucking. Narcissism at it's finest? Or just a lack of self-esteem in other areas of their lives?
And there are other people who simply don't get laid because they think they're bad at it. They'd rather jack off in the privacy of their own bathrooms than risk being laughed at - or pitied - in someone else's bedroom.
People exist that feel that their sexual prowess is their only redeeming quality. Oh - they'd never say that, of course. But you can see it in them if you look closely enough (and you know that I do).
I can't remember a time in my life that I've thought of myself as a lousy lay. Even when I was very heavy, my sexuality tended to supersede any insecurity I felt about being naked with someone, and I tended to enjoy sex completely. (which undoubtedly goes back to the whole "sex is better when I like someone and feel comfortable with them" thing). I may have not been as open as I am now, and I might have had a few more insecurities, but I think I always had a healthy sexual self-esteem.
What a shame I didn't have it out of the sack , too. Better late than never, I suppose *wink*
I think that our sexual-self-esteem has a lot more to do with how we feel about ourselves overall than people believe. You can be an insecure, beautiful woman or a butt-ugly, confident man - why? Because contrary to what the makeup and fashion industries would tell you in this country -- there's more to it than looking good. There's also believing that you *are* good. And part of that *good* is believing that you can entice a member of the opposite (or same!) sex into the sack.
Confidence in yourself can make up the miles between beautiful and butt-ugly. It can also take you quite the opposite way if you don't believe in yourself.
Having said that, one of the biggest 'ick' factors I have ever encountered in bed with someone is arrogance. The line (ooo another line yikes) between healthy self-confidence and arrogance is not all that thick. You can go from "This is fun, we are great together" to "You should be cumming every 20 seconds because seriously, I am just that good. Why aren't you more flattered that I'm fucking you?" in less time than it takes to slip a condom on. Luckily, I haven't encountered much of that.
Why?
Because I'm goddamn picky, that's why :)
No Stifling Allowed
While I happen to be a big fan of sex in mostly all of it’s forms and I love to talk about it, dream about it, write about it and do it, it’s still a very personal thing to me. I think that because of my weight for most of my life, I either went one of two ways – casual, mostly anonymous sex, or sex in a serious relationship. In other words, it’s either someone I barely knew, or someone I was close to.
I'm not a big fan of anonymous sex anymore. In addition to the fact that it's now lethal, it just never leaves me with a very good feeling. For me, sex doesn't need to be with someone I love, but it certainly needs to be with someone I *like*. It's not for any moral reason, it's just because that for me to cut loose sexually, I need to have a little trust and faith in the person I'm cutting loose with.
The whole idea of having sex where I can't cut loose - where I feel like I have to hold back - is repugnant to me. It's pointless. I'm not going to get from it what I want to get from it, and as with indifference, pointless aggravates me. Cutting loose - being able to writhe and moan and whimper and beg - these are things that make sex work for me. Even occasionally not being able to do those things; to have the ability removed by place or time - adds to it. But removing them from the activity because I don't feel comfortable enough with the person I'm with is not something I enjoy feeling.
I dislike being stifled, be that sexually or otherwise. And putting myself into a position where that's the only possible outcome is not conducive to me getting back into my creative cycle.
I'm not a big fan of anonymous sex anymore. In addition to the fact that it's now lethal, it just never leaves me with a very good feeling. For me, sex doesn't need to be with someone I love, but it certainly needs to be with someone I *like*. It's not for any moral reason, it's just because that for me to cut loose sexually, I need to have a little trust and faith in the person I'm cutting loose with.
The whole idea of having sex where I can't cut loose - where I feel like I have to hold back - is repugnant to me. It's pointless. I'm not going to get from it what I want to get from it, and as with indifference, pointless aggravates me. Cutting loose - being able to writhe and moan and whimper and beg - these are things that make sex work for me. Even occasionally not being able to do those things; to have the ability removed by place or time - adds to it. But removing them from the activity because I don't feel comfortable enough with the person I'm with is not something I enjoy feeling.
I dislike being stifled, be that sexually or otherwise. And putting myself into a position where that's the only possible outcome is not conducive to me getting back into my creative cycle.
Fuel for Creativity
I draw a great deal of my creativity from sexual energy, be that flesh-on-flesh energy or simply energy that comes from inside me at certain times when I am inspired. Sexual energy fuels my need to create.
When I'm not feeling very sexual (and yes, it does happen), I lose my urge to create.
I started making soap again recently. It started with a comment from my Mom that she was out of the Lavender-Oatmeal soap I made for her, and ended up with me making 8 batches of soap out of supplies I still had. Then I ordered some more. And some new molds. It was a very nice couple weekends, but I've put it on hold for now because I ran out of drying room :) Creating that helped some. It broke me out of the deadzone, but it's not the same for me as writing.
I've mentioned in the past that I have a "friend" that I see occasionally for a weekend. Every 3-4-5 months or so. Typically when I come home from those kinds of weekends, my sexual energy is recharged, and I write. I write here, I write fiction, I write emails. The internal juices start flowing (as the external ones did during the weekend *smirk*) and my vigor is renewed.
Well, the ego bruise (see my last couple posts) got in the way of that this time, and it was frustrating for me. I liken it to being half way to an orgasm and stopping cold, and not going back to finish it in a timely fashion. I don’t like that feeling. It's also like being yanked out of subspace by a rude comment or a mis-directed whip shot.
I'm usually pretty good at pulling myself out of a funk, but this one took a little longer than I'm used to. And it's probably because I just couldn't put my finger on what caused it.
I'm hoping to fix that this weekend. My cousin's (I come from a small family; one first cousin!) daughter is getting married this weekend, and I intend to flirt with all of my cousin's friends. *grin*. Maybe I can find a way to recharge the energy I lost last week and put it to good use.
At least I hope so.
Because I have a lot I'd really like to write about, and I want that sexual energy back to push that forward.
When I'm not feeling very sexual (and yes, it does happen), I lose my urge to create.
I started making soap again recently. It started with a comment from my Mom that she was out of the Lavender-Oatmeal soap I made for her, and ended up with me making 8 batches of soap out of supplies I still had. Then I ordered some more. And some new molds. It was a very nice couple weekends, but I've put it on hold for now because I ran out of drying room :) Creating that helped some. It broke me out of the deadzone, but it's not the same for me as writing.
I've mentioned in the past that I have a "friend" that I see occasionally for a weekend. Every 3-4-5 months or so. Typically when I come home from those kinds of weekends, my sexual energy is recharged, and I write. I write here, I write fiction, I write emails. The internal juices start flowing (as the external ones did during the weekend *smirk*) and my vigor is renewed.
Well, the ego bruise (see my last couple posts) got in the way of that this time, and it was frustrating for me. I liken it to being half way to an orgasm and stopping cold, and not going back to finish it in a timely fashion. I don’t like that feeling. It's also like being yanked out of subspace by a rude comment or a mis-directed whip shot.
I'm usually pretty good at pulling myself out of a funk, but this one took a little longer than I'm used to. And it's probably because I just couldn't put my finger on what caused it.
I'm hoping to fix that this weekend. My cousin's (I come from a small family; one first cousin!) daughter is getting married this weekend, and I intend to flirt with all of my cousin's friends. *grin*. Maybe I can find a way to recharge the energy I lost last week and put it to good use.
At least I hope so.
Because I have a lot I'd really like to write about, and I want that sexual energy back to push that forward.
The Other Fine Line
The other little lesson I learned this week is that while there have been times in my life when my self-esteem was shit, I still had an ego.
It took me nearly a week to define why I was so full of angst about something that happened in my life, but as it turns out, my well-protected ego took a little bit of a smashing and having rarely felt that before, I wasn't sure what to do to heal it.
I'm still not sure. It's still smarting a little.
To get your self-esteem bruised, it takes you believing that whatever has been said to you or done to you, you deserved. To get your ego bruised, you have to believe that what has been said to you or done to you, wronged you. The higher your self-esteem at the point of bruising, the more likely you are to take the bruise to your ego instead.
I don't know if any of that is making sense, but if not, welcome to my world for the last week.
The one saving grace of the whole thing is that - for once in my life - something happened and I didn't immediately say "It's because I'm fat.". Why? Cause I can't say that anymore. *grin* (There, I think I feel the ego healing up lol)
So between this line, and the casual/nonchalant line, I'm learning about what I can tolerate and what I can't tolerate in personal relationships. It's all good, in the long run, but in the short term, even *I* get tired of thinking so much. Yes, you read that right. Little Miss Super-Analyze is tired of thinking so fucking much.
It took me nearly a week to define why I was so full of angst about something that happened in my life, but as it turns out, my well-protected ego took a little bit of a smashing and having rarely felt that before, I wasn't sure what to do to heal it.
I'm still not sure. It's still smarting a little.
To get your self-esteem bruised, it takes you believing that whatever has been said to you or done to you, you deserved. To get your ego bruised, you have to believe that what has been said to you or done to you, wronged you. The higher your self-esteem at the point of bruising, the more likely you are to take the bruise to your ego instead.
I don't know if any of that is making sense, but if not, welcome to my world for the last week.
The one saving grace of the whole thing is that - for once in my life - something happened and I didn't immediately say "It's because I'm fat.". Why? Cause I can't say that anymore. *grin* (There, I think I feel the ego healing up lol)
So between this line, and the casual/nonchalant line, I'm learning about what I can tolerate and what I can't tolerate in personal relationships. It's all good, in the long run, but in the short term, even *I* get tired of thinking so much. Yes, you read that right. Little Miss Super-Analyze is tired of thinking so fucking much.
Casual vs Nonchalant
In the last week, I've found a couple of fine lines in my life.
The one between 'casual' and 'nonchalant'.
Casual is technically defined as "without definite or serious intention". Nonchalant on the other hand is defined as "coolly unconcerned, indifferent, or unexcited". Similar, but with a distinct difference in intent. Remember the old cartoons about casual Friday getting to be too casual? Think that, only moreso. Big difference between nice jeans and a sweater -- and a pair of pajama pants, flip flops and a ratty tshirt you'd be ashamed to wear to the gym. Finding this line this week made me feel more like the ratty tshirt than the nice jeans and I didn't much care for that feeling.
You can be without serious intention but still not be indifferent. One of my favorite quotes is "Hate is not the opposite of love. Indifference is."
Indifference pisses me off. I've spent most of my life being rabidly passionate about a lot of things. Sex, love, family, friends, books, music. I find it very difficult to middle of the road on almost anything. I'm not entirely sure that's a healthy way to live, but it's the way I live. Not how I choose to live - just how I am.
I put a lot of energy into almost everything I do. When I gain an interest in something new, I read until my eyes hurt and then I practice, play, create. When I make a new friend, I spend the time to get to know them - what they like, what they don't like, and I find things we have in common so that we can create a bond.
I know that most people aren't like me in that, and I accept that for the most part -- I can accept lower levels of energy and less enthusiasm.
But I have a very difficult time accepting indifference.
The one between 'casual' and 'nonchalant'.
Casual is technically defined as "without definite or serious intention". Nonchalant on the other hand is defined as "coolly unconcerned, indifferent, or unexcited". Similar, but with a distinct difference in intent. Remember the old cartoons about casual Friday getting to be too casual? Think that, only moreso. Big difference between nice jeans and a sweater -- and a pair of pajama pants, flip flops and a ratty tshirt you'd be ashamed to wear to the gym. Finding this line this week made me feel more like the ratty tshirt than the nice jeans and I didn't much care for that feeling.
You can be without serious intention but still not be indifferent. One of my favorite quotes is "Hate is not the opposite of love. Indifference is."
Indifference pisses me off. I've spent most of my life being rabidly passionate about a lot of things. Sex, love, family, friends, books, music. I find it very difficult to middle of the road on almost anything. I'm not entirely sure that's a healthy way to live, but it's the way I live. Not how I choose to live - just how I am.
I put a lot of energy into almost everything I do. When I gain an interest in something new, I read until my eyes hurt and then I practice, play, create. When I make a new friend, I spend the time to get to know them - what they like, what they don't like, and I find things we have in common so that we can create a bond.
I know that most people aren't like me in that, and I accept that for the most part -- I can accept lower levels of energy and less enthusiasm.
But I have a very difficult time accepting indifference.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Unforgettable
"No matter what the relationship, no woman wants to feel as if sleeping with her is so forgettable that the minute a man walks out of the room, he's moved onto immediately to other things." Jill, 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
Who am I today?
(No, that's not me, but I love the picture)
I looked in the mirror at work today, and saw a college co-ed again. Hair back in a head band, study-girl glasses, turtleneck ...
It's weird seeing myself that way. But kinda neat, too.
I can be anyone I wanna be, really.
Question is, who do I really wanna be?
There isn't really an answer to that. It's mostly rhetorical. I want to be myself. And I want to be loved and appreciated for that.
I spent last Friday/Saturday/Part of Sunday with a group of people that I used to play EverQuest with. These people are friends. Good friends. Friends that make you feel loved, appreciated and special. I see parts of this group 3-4 times a year. And I always come home feeling renewed. When I am around them, I am my affectionate and consummate smart ass self.
I came home feeling good this time, too. But it didn't last very long, because some other issues arose in other parts of my life that made me stop and really think about what is driving me forward.
I saw my folks yesterday for Easter, and the first thing my mom said to me was that I didn't look happy. My parents have gotten used to seeing me happy for the last few years. And apparently yesterday, they didn't see that.
To be honest, I wasn't happy. I put a smile on my face for them because they deserve to have that, but my mind has been whirling for a week or so about things I haven't thought about in either years - or in a few cases, ever.
C and I have been separated for 3.5 years. This is the longest I've been without a special someone in my life, ever. I realize that that's my choice. I haven't been looking that hard and I haven't really put myself out there to be seen or found. My EQ friends hassle me about that. One goes so far as to say that it's not healthy for me to purposefully lock myself away. And maybe he's right. I've considered this time alone to be growing time (and shrinking time physically). I wanted to spend this time alone so that I could be sure that next time, I get what I want from a relationship - not just what's offered to me. I think that is healthy.
But I've also been dragging my feet, and I'll freely admit that. I'm not sure if it's fear, or pride, or ego, or what that's making me do that. Maybe all of them. Maybe none of them. Maybe my heart is just - tired.
And to be honest, I'm tired of analyzing it.
Maybe it's time to stop analyzing it, and just open myself to the possibilities.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Spark
So, I know I said I'd come back and write about what I might want. Something happened after work today that brought that kind of full circle in my mind, so I guess it's time to write it :)
I stopped at the gas station/convenience store tonight to get some cat food (because I'm terrible and forgot it at the store last week), so I decided to grab cigarettes (no, I haven't quit yet) while I was at it.
The clerk, bless her heart -- carded me.
Now, granted, I had on a turtleneck and my hair was back in a headband and I looked a little co-edish today, but still. She carded me :)
I don't look my age. I have never actually looked my age. At 16, I looked 19. At 19, I looked 23. At 25, I looked 18. You get the picture. Time works weirdly on me apparently.
But the fact is, I don't feel my age, either. I'll be 43 in a month. I don't feel it. 33? Maybe. But 43? No.
That in itself is a good thing. I'm healthier than I have ever been (despite the nasty cigarettes) and I feel better, take better care of myself.
I think that for too many years, I was pushing it. I wanted to be older. Settled. Have the marriage and family and such that I was 'supposed' to have -at that certain age-. I dated older men almost exclusively for most of my life. C. was my first 'younger' man, and that's by only 2 years.
Fact is though, I have more in common with younger men these days. Gaming is one example of that. I don't see a lot of 42 year old men playing the games I play, unless they're doing it while their wives are off at the PTA or whatever. Married men with children playing as a cheap hobby, yes. But it's a younger man's world for sure.
Men my age tend (and I say tend, because I dislike generalizations) to be wanting to be married, to either have kids, or having a partner to help raise the ones they have. I have no opposition to playing Step-Mom. I've done it before, and those girls mean the world to me to this day. But it's not something I would actively seek out.
Younger men also seem to have the same sexual drive I do. Two or three or four times in one day is not unusual for me at all. As a matter of fact, it's great exercise /wink.
I got called a "Cougar" the other day. I giggled, but the fact is, maybe I am.
My mom said to me that she thinks I should find a man older than me (as M was ten years older than me), that she wants for me that security.
But I'm pretty secure in myself, and I'm not looking for a man to give me that. I already have it.
What I want in a man is someone who can keep up with me, sexually, as well as intellectually. Someone who understands why I game online and maybe enjoys it, too. And someone who is secure enough to let me keep this independence that I've earned and enjoy now, but not so much that I can't feel them in my life.
I don't know if he exists, but I've finally admitted to myself that maybe if I open up the bottom end of my 'age limit' bracket, he'll present himself. I'm not talking any less than 28 or so. But definitely less than the 36 I had previously though I needed.
Screw what society thinks. If Demi Moore can do it, so can the rest of us.
I stopped at the gas station/convenience store tonight to get some cat food (because I'm terrible and forgot it at the store last week), so I decided to grab cigarettes (no, I haven't quit yet) while I was at it.
The clerk, bless her heart -- carded me.
Now, granted, I had on a turtleneck and my hair was back in a headband and I looked a little co-edish today, but still. She carded me :)
I don't look my age. I have never actually looked my age. At 16, I looked 19. At 19, I looked 23. At 25, I looked 18. You get the picture. Time works weirdly on me apparently.
But the fact is, I don't feel my age, either. I'll be 43 in a month. I don't feel it. 33? Maybe. But 43? No.
That in itself is a good thing. I'm healthier than I have ever been (despite the nasty cigarettes) and I feel better, take better care of myself.
I think that for too many years, I was pushing it. I wanted to be older. Settled. Have the marriage and family and such that I was 'supposed' to have -at that certain age-. I dated older men almost exclusively for most of my life. C. was my first 'younger' man, and that's by only 2 years.
Fact is though, I have more in common with younger men these days. Gaming is one example of that. I don't see a lot of 42 year old men playing the games I play, unless they're doing it while their wives are off at the PTA or whatever. Married men with children playing as a cheap hobby, yes. But it's a younger man's world for sure.
Men my age tend (and I say tend, because I dislike generalizations) to be wanting to be married, to either have kids, or having a partner to help raise the ones they have. I have no opposition to playing Step-Mom. I've done it before, and those girls mean the world to me to this day. But it's not something I would actively seek out.
Younger men also seem to have the same sexual drive I do. Two or three or four times in one day is not unusual for me at all. As a matter of fact, it's great exercise /wink.
I got called a "Cougar" the other day. I giggled, but the fact is, maybe I am.
My mom said to me that she thinks I should find a man older than me (as M was ten years older than me), that she wants for me that security.
But I'm pretty secure in myself, and I'm not looking for a man to give me that. I already have it.
What I want in a man is someone who can keep up with me, sexually, as well as intellectually. Someone who understands why I game online and maybe enjoys it, too. And someone who is secure enough to let me keep this independence that I've earned and enjoy now, but not so much that I can't feel them in my life.
I don't know if he exists, but I've finally admitted to myself that maybe if I open up the bottom end of my 'age limit' bracket, he'll present himself. I'm not talking any less than 28 or so. But definitely less than the 36 I had previously though I needed.
Screw what society thinks. If Demi Moore can do it, so can the rest of us.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Shattering
...what once was.
One of the things I've been doing with my time since I stopped writing is trying to figure out exactly what it is that I want.
I don't have a clear answer to that yet, but I've been down a couple of paths in thought -- one that I determined I don't want, and one I've determined may be what I do want, but I'm not sure.
What I don't want -- and I think I've actually either eluded to or said outright here in the last year -- I don't want to be someone's 24/7 submissive. I cannot begin to tell you how much that used to appeal to me, and how much I've enjoyed it in the past, but for what my life is right now, and for what I want to do with it, that just doesn't seem to fit, no matter which angle I try.
And I'm all right with that. I wasn't at first. So much of my identity was wrapped up in "Screamer", my writing, my submissiveness. But not anymore.
I'm not even remotely saying that I am not submissive, or do not want to be submissive. I do enjoy it, especially sexually (*grin* too, when the connotation is sexy and there is no actual sex in sight, if you know what I mean), and for periods of time, I want to continue to experience that - an evening, a weekend, an hour - whatever works. But what I don't want - is to be kept, to be a 24/7 slave, toy, pet - what have you. Not anymore.
People change and evolve. And I have to stop and consider the fact that perhaps my deep desire to belong to someone 24/7 wasn't wrapped up at least partially in sub-par self-esteem issues of the last ten years. Those issues are fading, have faded substantially actually, and are continuing to fade away - and I haven't quite determined if the lack of desire for 24/7 is a direct effect, or just a by-product. But whatever the case may be, I'm nearly 100% sure that it's not in the cards for me now, if ever, again.
(And before I get yelled at, I'm not insinuating that submissive = low self-esteem. I'm not. I'm talking about my personal experiences here, not yours)
So that's what I don't want.
What I might want will have to wait for the next post~
One of the things I've been doing with my time since I stopped writing is trying to figure out exactly what it is that I want.
I don't have a clear answer to that yet, but I've been down a couple of paths in thought -- one that I determined I don't want, and one I've determined may be what I do want, but I'm not sure.
What I don't want -- and I think I've actually either eluded to or said outright here in the last year -- I don't want to be someone's 24/7 submissive. I cannot begin to tell you how much that used to appeal to me, and how much I've enjoyed it in the past, but for what my life is right now, and for what I want to do with it, that just doesn't seem to fit, no matter which angle I try.
And I'm all right with that. I wasn't at first. So much of my identity was wrapped up in "Screamer", my writing, my submissiveness. But not anymore.
I'm not even remotely saying that I am not submissive, or do not want to be submissive. I do enjoy it, especially sexually (*grin* too, when the connotation is sexy and there is no actual sex in sight, if you know what I mean), and for periods of time, I want to continue to experience that - an evening, a weekend, an hour - whatever works. But what I don't want - is to be kept, to be a 24/7 slave, toy, pet - what have you. Not anymore.
People change and evolve. And I have to stop and consider the fact that perhaps my deep desire to belong to someone 24/7 wasn't wrapped up at least partially in sub-par self-esteem issues of the last ten years. Those issues are fading, have faded substantially actually, and are continuing to fade away - and I haven't quite determined if the lack of desire for 24/7 is a direct effect, or just a by-product. But whatever the case may be, I'm nearly 100% sure that it's not in the cards for me now, if ever, again.
(And before I get yelled at, I'm not insinuating that submissive = low self-esteem. I'm not. I'm talking about my personal experiences here, not yours)
So that's what I don't want.
What I might want will have to wait for the next post~
Thursday, January 10, 2008
The more things change ...
... the more I'm stuck in a rut.
I haven't been writing. Well, here, anyway, and not a whole lot anywhere else, either. I went through a quiet period, where I didn't feel like sharing anything, and now I'm kind of trying to break out of that (forcing it, mostly) because it's starting to get on my nerves.
That's not the only thing that's stuck though.
I noted today, when I went into the restroom at work, that the shirt I put on this morning is too big. Will I put it away? No, probably not. I tend to dump jeans that are too big immediately, but shirts ... it's not so easy. I've always worn my shirts big. Even now, anything that clings too close I'm not crazy about. I go back and forth between chastising myself for that (I wear a size 10 jean now. I mean, do I really need to be wearing clothes I wore 40 pounds ago?), and comforting myself with all that extra material (it *is* cold here in the frozen tundra you know).
It's time for me to get unstuck. In all these little areas I've been sticking in.
I haven't been writing. Well, here, anyway, and not a whole lot anywhere else, either. I went through a quiet period, where I didn't feel like sharing anything, and now I'm kind of trying to break out of that (forcing it, mostly) because it's starting to get on my nerves.
That's not the only thing that's stuck though.
I noted today, when I went into the restroom at work, that the shirt I put on this morning is too big. Will I put it away? No, probably not. I tend to dump jeans that are too big immediately, but shirts ... it's not so easy. I've always worn my shirts big. Even now, anything that clings too close I'm not crazy about. I go back and forth between chastising myself for that (I wear a size 10 jean now. I mean, do I really need to be wearing clothes I wore 40 pounds ago?), and comforting myself with all that extra material (it *is* cold here in the frozen tundra you know).
It's time for me to get unstuck. In all these little areas I've been sticking in.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Night time attire
So, I have this nightshirt.
It's like the anti-me. It's pink. and it has these cute little hearts all over it. It's pretty short, and it's built like a t-shirt. It was a gift; it's not something I'd probably buy for myself unless Innocent Girl stole the credit card /smirk.
Anyway, so I have it, and I typically only wear it in the summer if everything else is dirty *chuckle*. But for some reason, when I went to the drawer this week, there it was, and I put it on.
I rarely wear panties to bed. I'm not sure where that habit started but it's one that has become second nature and I've been doing it for years.
So here is this innocent looking nightshirt, and a naked pussy and ass underneath it. I think it's the contrast that makes it interesting for me. Especially considering that I sleep with my hair in a high ponytail every night. Face clean of makeup. Minty, freshly-brushed breath. The picture of innocence. Until you pull up the hem of nightshirt and see what's under, or what's *not* underneath.
On the surface, it doesn't look sexy. It looks sweet. Cute. Romantic.
But if you know me, you know what's under - or not underneath - that nightshirt. And you know that regardless of what the surface looks like, I want to be fucked. Does my demeanor change based on what I'm wearing? I think it does. But I don't see that as a bad thing. I see that as fun. Variety. And the potential to be sexy as hell.
Don't get me wrong. I love my 'fuck me' lingerie. Always have, and actually even more that that I'm more comfortable wearing it and have a bigger variety of it to choose from.
But that isn't all there is to conveying that 'fuck me' message. And sometimes, saying it in a 'not in your face' way can be infinitely more fun.
Oh. Were you looking for a point to that story? Well, unless the mental picture made something happen for you *smirk*, there wasn't one. That's pretty much the only point.
It's like the anti-me. It's pink. and it has these cute little hearts all over it. It's pretty short, and it's built like a t-shirt. It was a gift; it's not something I'd probably buy for myself unless Innocent Girl stole the credit card /smirk.
Anyway, so I have it, and I typically only wear it in the summer if everything else is dirty *chuckle*. But for some reason, when I went to the drawer this week, there it was, and I put it on.
I rarely wear panties to bed. I'm not sure where that habit started but it's one that has become second nature and I've been doing it for years.
So here is this innocent looking nightshirt, and a naked pussy and ass underneath it. I think it's the contrast that makes it interesting for me. Especially considering that I sleep with my hair in a high ponytail every night. Face clean of makeup. Minty, freshly-brushed breath. The picture of innocence. Until you pull up the hem of nightshirt and see what's under, or what's *not* underneath.
On the surface, it doesn't look sexy. It looks sweet. Cute. Romantic.
But if you know me, you know what's under - or not underneath - that nightshirt. And you know that regardless of what the surface looks like, I want to be fucked. Does my demeanor change based on what I'm wearing? I think it does. But I don't see that as a bad thing. I see that as fun. Variety. And the potential to be sexy as hell.
Don't get me wrong. I love my 'fuck me' lingerie. Always have, and actually even more that that I'm more comfortable wearing it and have a bigger variety of it to choose from.
But that isn't all there is to conveying that 'fuck me' message. And sometimes, saying it in a 'not in your face' way can be infinitely more fun.
Oh. Were you looking for a point to that story? Well, unless the mental picture made something happen for you *smirk*, there wasn't one. That's pretty much the only point.
Promises
I don't want to make a bunch of promises that I'll start writing a lot again.
But I'm here for now.
I don't want to explain why I haven't been writing.
I'm here for now.
Let's enjoy the now *grin*
But I'm here for now.
I don't want to explain why I haven't been writing.
I'm here for now.
Let's enjoy the now *grin*
Monday, September 24, 2007
Nope. No updates.
I seem to have slipped into a private phase. Which is weird for me, because typically I’m extremely open.
I haven’t felt like writing about much of anything. Oh, the thoughts are still there and the feelings associated with them, but I just haven’t felt the need to share any of it. Yet.
I still have my list. And I’m hoping that posting this will renew my interest in being open.
We’ll see.
But for now I’m alive and well. Working hard, playing lightly and trying to keep things on as even of a keel as possible for myself. I feel the need for peace of mind more than I feel the need to explore anything right now.
I seem to have slipped into a private phase. Which is weird for me, because typically I’m extremely open.
I haven’t felt like writing about much of anything. Oh, the thoughts are still there and the feelings associated with them, but I just haven’t felt the need to share any of it. Yet.
I still have my list. And I’m hoping that posting this will renew my interest in being open.
We’ll see.
But for now I’m alive and well. Working hard, playing lightly and trying to keep things on as even of a keel as possible for myself. I feel the need for peace of mind more than I feel the need to explore anything right now.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Just Enough
In my early twenties, I met a man named J*(No, I’m not typing his name, I try very hard to leave names out of this blog for a reason). For the next 11 years or so, he and I had an on-again/off-again quasi-relationship that ran as hot and cold as summer and winter in the Midwest. It finally ended for good when I just couldn’t watch him fuck up his life anymore, and I had to let completely go of him.
I bought one of those “20th Century Masters” CDs a couple weeks ago when I was at the store with my mom. Tesla. I love Tesla. I had forgotten how much.
But as I was driving home from my folks’ the next day, and their song “What You Give” started playing, I almost had to pull the car over. Why? Because that song is what brought J* back into my life over and over again. He used to sing it to me.
I don’t really miss him. I can barely picture his face anymore to be honest. But there was a part of me that believed in him so deeply that I wanted him in my life.
J* was not a great boyfriend. As a matter of fact, he sucked hard at relationships. He was one of these kinds of people who will give ‘just enough’ to keep a love interest hanging around. (I almost typed ‘man’ instead of ‘love interest’ but I know there are women who do this, too). If he feared losing me, he’d give me ‘just enough’ to keep that from happening. Never more, never less. Just…enough.
I’ve never personally understood why people do that. If I’m ‘with’ someone, I’m with them, and they are welcome to all of me – good, bad and indifferent.
He’s not the only person I’ve ever met like that. C is very much like that as well. I’m not sure if it’s a protective shell, if it’s pure laziness, or pure fear that keeps people right on that edge of ‘just enough’, but for someone like me who tends to need more than that, it can be infuriating, frustrating and downright exhausting.
I’ll admit that while I’m getting to know someone, I’m not going to fling open the floodgates and let everything wash over them. That’d be silly. But I’m open to disclosing things when asked, and if I’m serious about getting to know someone – or if I have gotten to know them and feel comfortable with them – I’m willing to open that door a little further than ‘just enough’ room to see in.
Maybe that’s the problem – and why I’ve been hurt so often. But I really don’t think it is. I’ve rarely had anything I’ve ‘released’ flung back at me like a rock from a slingshot; more typically it’s that I can seem to see inside someone else’s door that ends up making me blue.
Submitting to someone makes this doubly important in my opinion. I *want to trust. I *need to trust, but how can I if I can’t see far enough to be sure? Gut instinct is wonderful and I rely on it heavily, but sometimes it’s simply not enough. And someone handing me ‘just enough’ to keep me interested without any hint that I’ll get any more is like – well, its just ‘not enough’.
I learned that from J*. I don’t know if that makes all that 20’s-angst worth it or not. But it was ‘just enough’ to make me understand that ‘just enough’ is not enough for the long haul.
I bought one of those “20th Century Masters” CDs a couple weeks ago when I was at the store with my mom. Tesla. I love Tesla. I had forgotten how much.
But as I was driving home from my folks’ the next day, and their song “What You Give” started playing, I almost had to pull the car over. Why? Because that song is what brought J* back into my life over and over again. He used to sing it to me.
I don’t really miss him. I can barely picture his face anymore to be honest. But there was a part of me that believed in him so deeply that I wanted him in my life.
J* was not a great boyfriend. As a matter of fact, he sucked hard at relationships. He was one of these kinds of people who will give ‘just enough’ to keep a love interest hanging around. (I almost typed ‘man’ instead of ‘love interest’ but I know there are women who do this, too). If he feared losing me, he’d give me ‘just enough’ to keep that from happening. Never more, never less. Just…enough.
I’ve never personally understood why people do that. If I’m ‘with’ someone, I’m with them, and they are welcome to all of me – good, bad and indifferent.
He’s not the only person I’ve ever met like that. C is very much like that as well. I’m not sure if it’s a protective shell, if it’s pure laziness, or pure fear that keeps people right on that edge of ‘just enough’, but for someone like me who tends to need more than that, it can be infuriating, frustrating and downright exhausting.
I’ll admit that while I’m getting to know someone, I’m not going to fling open the floodgates and let everything wash over them. That’d be silly. But I’m open to disclosing things when asked, and if I’m serious about getting to know someone – or if I have gotten to know them and feel comfortable with them – I’m willing to open that door a little further than ‘just enough’ room to see in.
Maybe that’s the problem – and why I’ve been hurt so often. But I really don’t think it is. I’ve rarely had anything I’ve ‘released’ flung back at me like a rock from a slingshot; more typically it’s that I can seem to see inside someone else’s door that ends up making me blue.
Submitting to someone makes this doubly important in my opinion. I *want to trust. I *need to trust, but how can I if I can’t see far enough to be sure? Gut instinct is wonderful and I rely on it heavily, but sometimes it’s simply not enough. And someone handing me ‘just enough’ to keep me interested without any hint that I’ll get any more is like – well, its just ‘not enough’.
I learned that from J*. I don’t know if that makes all that 20’s-angst worth it or not. But it was ‘just enough’ to make me understand that ‘just enough’ is not enough for the long haul.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Dirty
Note: I had intended to 'finish' this, but it feels finished the way it is.
I knocked lightly at the door, knowing he wouldn't hear it over the running water. I paused, grinning to myself and then opened the door.
He heard that. He peeked out from behind the shower curtain and looked at me.
I was still grinning, standing in the doorway with my white tshirt barely grazing the tops of my thighs and my long hair pulled back tightly in a ponytail. Neither of us spoke for a moment. I was enjoying the tension.
"Did my phone ring or something?" he asked.
"No." I took a few steps into the bathroom and closed the door behind me. I was still grinning as I took a few more steps closer to the shower. "I just thought perhaps you'd like to have your cock sucked."
"Now?" He raised an eyebrow at me.
"Well, unless you don't want to." I smirked and turned toward the door.
"That's not at issue." He growled. I heard the curtain open, and I turned back around. His cock had already started to rise. The grin returned to my face as I took another step toward him.
"Well, that's a relief." The smirk still grazed my lips, mostly because I knew it would soon be replaced by something else.
I stepped into the shower, the hot water and steam immediately soaking my shirt. As I slid slowly to my knees, dragging my nails over the wet hair on his chest as I went, I grinned up at him.
"There really isn't any better place for you to be a dirty little tramp than in a hot shower, is there?"
"Nope." I leaned forward and showed him how dirty I could be.
I knocked lightly at the door, knowing he wouldn't hear it over the running water. I paused, grinning to myself and then opened the door.
He heard that. He peeked out from behind the shower curtain and looked at me.
I was still grinning, standing in the doorway with my white tshirt barely grazing the tops of my thighs and my long hair pulled back tightly in a ponytail. Neither of us spoke for a moment. I was enjoying the tension.
"Did my phone ring or something?" he asked.
"No." I took a few steps into the bathroom and closed the door behind me. I was still grinning as I took a few more steps closer to the shower. "I just thought perhaps you'd like to have your cock sucked."
"Now?" He raised an eyebrow at me.
"Well, unless you don't want to." I smirked and turned toward the door.
"That's not at issue." He growled. I heard the curtain open, and I turned back around. His cock had already started to rise. The grin returned to my face as I took another step toward him.
"Well, that's a relief." The smirk still grazed my lips, mostly because I knew it would soon be replaced by something else.
I stepped into the shower, the hot water and steam immediately soaking my shirt. As I slid slowly to my knees, dragging my nails over the wet hair on his chest as I went, I grinned up at him.
"There really isn't any better place for you to be a dirty little tramp than in a hot shower, is there?"
"Nope." I leaned forward and showed him how dirty I could be.
Lament
Anyone who's read here over the last six months knows that I'm struggling with this whole 'dating/do I want to date/do I enjoy dating' thing. While I finally convinced myself (and my mother, ugh) that I'm not dating right now because I'm relatively comfortable with my life as it is (not completely of course), and that it can't be - nor should it be - a top priority for me right now. I have the weight loss (damn near done) and my writing (stuck....) and exercise (going well) and work.... these things really should be my focus, not worrying about 'he didn't call when he said he would I wonder what that means' dating bullshit.
*sigh*
Part of this, too, is that over the last three years since C and I separated, I've been making a relatively detailed internal list of what I want in a potential future partner/lover/friend/whatever. I have certain things that I'm not at all willing to compromise on (and some that I might be), and I wonder if I'm not doing that simply to perpetuate this current state of 'independence' that I have. I'd like to think I'm not, but maybe I really am.
Someone said to me recently, as I was discussing some of the ... atrocious.... emails I get from the couple of personal ads I still have up, that at least I put myself out there and I'm trying.
Am I?
On one site, where I've had an ad for 3 years, I'm guessing I've gotten 500~ emails in that time. I've responded to less than 20, and of those , I'm guessing I sent my email address to maybe 4? 5? And of those? I'll bet I exchanged 5+ emails with 3 of them.
No, I don't know why, except that perhaps - again - I'm just overly picky.
See, here's the thing. I miss having sex more often than every couple months. I miss waking up with someone in the morning with a big grin on my face, just watching them sleep. I miss having someone to curl up on the sofa with and zone out in front of a movie.
It isn't like I don't want those things. Not at all. I just don't know if I want them enough.
Some days, I think I do. Those are the days I go and check my email on the sites and look at the profiles of people who've written. And then other times weeks go by, and I don't even load the sites.
Regardless, thus is the state of my 'love' life. And somehow, I'm all right with that for now.
*sigh*
Part of this, too, is that over the last three years since C and I separated, I've been making a relatively detailed internal list of what I want in a potential future partner/lover/friend/whatever. I have certain things that I'm not at all willing to compromise on (and some that I might be), and I wonder if I'm not doing that simply to perpetuate this current state of 'independence' that I have. I'd like to think I'm not, but maybe I really am.
Someone said to me recently, as I was discussing some of the ... atrocious.... emails I get from the couple of personal ads I still have up, that at least I put myself out there and I'm trying.
Am I?
On one site, where I've had an ad for 3 years, I'm guessing I've gotten 500~ emails in that time. I've responded to less than 20, and of those , I'm guessing I sent my email address to maybe 4? 5? And of those? I'll bet I exchanged 5+ emails with 3 of them.
No, I don't know why, except that perhaps - again - I'm just overly picky.
See, here's the thing. I miss having sex more often than every couple months. I miss waking up with someone in the morning with a big grin on my face, just watching them sleep. I miss having someone to curl up on the sofa with and zone out in front of a movie.
It isn't like I don't want those things. Not at all. I just don't know if I want them enough.
Some days, I think I do. Those are the days I go and check my email on the sites and look at the profiles of people who've written. And then other times weeks go by, and I don't even load the sites.
Regardless, thus is the state of my 'love' life. And somehow, I'm all right with that for now.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
MIA
I'm fully well aware of my lack of posting.
I'd like to change that, but for now my time is limited by a million other things that need my attention.
I miss writing here. And I'll be back hopefully sooner, rather than later. I have a couple of half-written posts at home, maybe I'll finish them this week ^..^
Til then, luck and love to you.
"Keep busy. It keeps you out of trouble."
err...damn :(
I'd like to change that, but for now my time is limited by a million other things that need my attention.
I miss writing here. And I'll be back hopefully sooner, rather than later. I have a couple of half-written posts at home, maybe I'll finish them this week ^..^
Til then, luck and love to you.
"Keep busy. It keeps you out of trouble."
err...damn :(
Friday, July 27, 2007
Taking
I don’t come out as a submissive to everyone. There are many friends I’ve made and kept in the last 15 years who have no idea that I’m involved in any way in the lifestyle, and neither does anyone in my family.
So, when I do tell someone I’m submissive, it’s kind of a thing for me. I trust them with a part of myself that I do not easily share, and I trust them to not use and abuse the information for their own gain, in any way, unless it benefits us both in some way.
This especially becomes important with vanilla – or mostly vanilla – men. I have a lot of vanilla friends; people who’ve either never heard of the lifestyle, or are only mildly interested in it, or who skirt the edges of it ‘just a bit’. I typically will throw a mild joke about ‘whips and chains’ or ‘rough sex’ into a conversation when I begin to get to know them. How they react to that is basically the guide for how much of myself I share with them.
I’ve had mixed results with this. I had one gentleman that I was getting to be close with on an mmorpg that I slipped that tidbit of a joke to, and he reacted as if he were horrified that I’d even think it. The subject got dropped quickly and I never revisited it, even in jest. I remained close friends with him, but it changed the way we interacted I think. Other times, it’s gone very well, and I’ve found people with either a small interest, or a larger one, and I’ve nurtured it along if it was comfortable to do so.
It’s those --- the latter ones – which I have to be careful with, for my own sake. I have to have my own lines pretty firmly drawn in the sand, and I have to be careful about how much of myself I reveal, or how much of myself I let come through.
It’s not a ‘them’ thing, though. It’s a ‘me’ thing. And I try to be conscious of how much of my submissive side gets let out.
It’s not that I think that lifestyle dominants are any better equipped to handle it than someone who’s just exploring a dominant aspect of themselves. Some of them aren’t. Some of them are less serious about a d/s relationship than someone who just found the term.
But I digress…
I read a post on a message board awhile back that discussed the ability (or inability) of some dominants to take everything without taking advantage. That’s kind of what this is for me. If I give enough of myself to someone that they believe it’s all right to take more – that’s fine (and in most cases desirable), providing that it doesn’t start to feel like I’m being taken for granted, or taken advantage of. That goes for d/s ‘lifestylers’ as well as the vanilla people I meet. When it starts to feel as if I’m giving, on a regular basis, more than I am reaping (mentally, emotionally, physically) from any sort of relationship, it’s time for me to re-evaluate how much of myself I’m giving, and pull back if necessary.
I think that is a fine line – between taking what’s offered to you, and taking advantage of someone, and I respect men (dominants in particular) who can do that with grace and style and have their own very well defined vision of that line. It’s not something everyone can do. And when it’s not done properly, the other party can be left feeling resentful as well as depleted emotionally – and that’s not fun, not hot, not sexy and certainly not healthy.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned to recognize that more easily. I’ve also learned to be honest about it with the other person – in a nice, healthy, gentle way (rather than getting angry). I’m happy about that, and that my confidence allows me to say to someone – hey, listen – this, in it’s current state is not working for me.
I’ve said many times – here and in my other writings – that if sex – or in this case, BDSM, aren’t fun, you aren’t doing something right. While I understand that there is a time for serious behavior, there is also a time for fun, and if you don’t take time for the fun, you’re missing out on the better part of a real human relationship, in whatever way you label it.
So is it possible to be careful and mindful of how much of yourself you give away (or take from another) as the case may be, and still have fun?
Yes, and I’m living proof of that.
So, when I do tell someone I’m submissive, it’s kind of a thing for me. I trust them with a part of myself that I do not easily share, and I trust them to not use and abuse the information for their own gain, in any way, unless it benefits us both in some way.
This especially becomes important with vanilla – or mostly vanilla – men. I have a lot of vanilla friends; people who’ve either never heard of the lifestyle, or are only mildly interested in it, or who skirt the edges of it ‘just a bit’. I typically will throw a mild joke about ‘whips and chains’ or ‘rough sex’ into a conversation when I begin to get to know them. How they react to that is basically the guide for how much of myself I share with them.
I’ve had mixed results with this. I had one gentleman that I was getting to be close with on an mmorpg that I slipped that tidbit of a joke to, and he reacted as if he were horrified that I’d even think it. The subject got dropped quickly and I never revisited it, even in jest. I remained close friends with him, but it changed the way we interacted I think. Other times, it’s gone very well, and I’ve found people with either a small interest, or a larger one, and I’ve nurtured it along if it was comfortable to do so.
It’s those --- the latter ones – which I have to be careful with, for my own sake. I have to have my own lines pretty firmly drawn in the sand, and I have to be careful about how much of myself I reveal, or how much of myself I let come through.
It’s not a ‘them’ thing, though. It’s a ‘me’ thing. And I try to be conscious of how much of my submissive side gets let out.
It’s not that I think that lifestyle dominants are any better equipped to handle it than someone who’s just exploring a dominant aspect of themselves. Some of them aren’t. Some of them are less serious about a d/s relationship than someone who just found the term.
But I digress…
I read a post on a message board awhile back that discussed the ability (or inability) of some dominants to take everything without taking advantage. That’s kind of what this is for me. If I give enough of myself to someone that they believe it’s all right to take more – that’s fine (and in most cases desirable), providing that it doesn’t start to feel like I’m being taken for granted, or taken advantage of. That goes for d/s ‘lifestylers’ as well as the vanilla people I meet. When it starts to feel as if I’m giving, on a regular basis, more than I am reaping (mentally, emotionally, physically) from any sort of relationship, it’s time for me to re-evaluate how much of myself I’m giving, and pull back if necessary.
I think that is a fine line – between taking what’s offered to you, and taking advantage of someone, and I respect men (dominants in particular) who can do that with grace and style and have their own very well defined vision of that line. It’s not something everyone can do. And when it’s not done properly, the other party can be left feeling resentful as well as depleted emotionally – and that’s not fun, not hot, not sexy and certainly not healthy.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned to recognize that more easily. I’ve also learned to be honest about it with the other person – in a nice, healthy, gentle way (rather than getting angry). I’m happy about that, and that my confidence allows me to say to someone – hey, listen – this, in it’s current state is not working for me.
I’ve said many times – here and in my other writings – that if sex – or in this case, BDSM, aren’t fun, you aren’t doing something right. While I understand that there is a time for serious behavior, there is also a time for fun, and if you don’t take time for the fun, you’re missing out on the better part of a real human relationship, in whatever way you label it.
So is it possible to be careful and mindful of how much of yourself you give away (or take from another) as the case may be, and still have fun?
Yes, and I’m living proof of that.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Worry Less, Breathe More
I'll admit it. I have a bit of new-age-ness in me. Maybe more than a bit.
I have a desk calendar - you know, one of those with a new page for every day. It has motivational quotes on it. I got it in December, when motivational quotes were just what I needed. And typically they still are :)
Yesterday's quote hit me up 'long side the head though. And went up against some of the demons I've been wrestling with this week (and no, the demons aren't cute and no, they aren't naked either)
"We would worry less about what others think of us if we realized how seldom they do." Ethel Barrett, writer.
I smiled when I read that. Off and on all day. And yesterday was an excellent day, partially because of that, but also because:
- I got my shiny new insurance card
- The scale deemed me worthy to slip down another pound.
- The size 10 jeans that I ordered fit perfectly (ok, so I haven't' washed them yet but...)
- And my 401K made money last quarter.
All in all, a good day.
Here's to hoping for another one.
I have a desk calendar - you know, one of those with a new page for every day. It has motivational quotes on it. I got it in December, when motivational quotes were just what I needed. And typically they still are :)
Yesterday's quote hit me up 'long side the head though. And went up against some of the demons I've been wrestling with this week (and no, the demons aren't cute and no, they aren't naked either)
"We would worry less about what others think of us if we realized how seldom they do." Ethel Barrett, writer.
I smiled when I read that. Off and on all day. And yesterday was an excellent day, partially because of that, but also because:
- I got my shiny new insurance card
- The scale deemed me worthy to slip down another pound.
- The size 10 jeans that I ordered fit perfectly (ok, so I haven't' washed them yet but...)
- And my 401K made money last quarter.
All in all, a good day.
Here's to hoping for another one.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Sniff.
In my teens and twenties, I rarely left the house without some blush and mascara on. As I grew older, makeup became much less of a priority for me, to the point where now, I rarely wear any at all, unless it's a special occasion.
Perfume was much the same way, but I've typically worn it more often than makeup, just because I'm a bit of a smell-ophile (I always have air fresheners or candles burning or oil warming in the house while I'm home. That was why I started my candle business way back -- I found I spent way too much on them)
I've worn Christian Dior's Poison (the original purple bottle) exclusively for many years - maybe 10 or so. It's absolutely one of my favorite scents. A bit musky, a bit oriental. But before that, I wore Ciara, which is also a bit musky, but completely different.
Today, while I was at Walgreen's, I bought a new bottle of Ciara. Small one. I'm going to try it again and see if I still like it. Maybe it's time for a change there, too. Maybe it'll help me break out of the old me and into the new one.
But I'm not throwing out my Poison. Oh, no. I still like it the best, and intend to wear it still. Just maybe not every time.
As in every part of life, changing things up makes life interesting. A change in a small thing can lead to a change of perspective.
And it's always good to see a new perspective *grin*
Perfume was much the same way, but I've typically worn it more often than makeup, just because I'm a bit of a smell-ophile (I always have air fresheners or candles burning or oil warming in the house while I'm home. That was why I started my candle business way back -- I found I spent way too much on them)
I've worn Christian Dior's Poison (the original purple bottle) exclusively for many years - maybe 10 or so. It's absolutely one of my favorite scents. A bit musky, a bit oriental. But before that, I wore Ciara, which is also a bit musky, but completely different.
Today, while I was at Walgreen's, I bought a new bottle of Ciara. Small one. I'm going to try it again and see if I still like it. Maybe it's time for a change there, too. Maybe it'll help me break out of the old me and into the new one.
But I'm not throwing out my Poison. Oh, no. I still like it the best, and intend to wear it still. Just maybe not every time.
As in every part of life, changing things up makes life interesting. A change in a small thing can lead to a change of perspective.
And it's always good to see a new perspective *grin*
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Tricks
There is no trick to wearing lingerie when you're thin and confident about your body. The trick to it is when you aren't.
Let me say that in my early 20's, I basically starved myself for 6 months and got down to 135-140 pounds. I looked like shit. My face was pale and the skin looked transparent. I actually looked like I'd been sick for years. But I was thin. And I wore clothes that accentuated that - including lingerie - and wore them with ease and proudly. It didn't take long for the weight to creep back, and when it did, all those clothes (and the ease in which I wore them) went immediately out the window.
I make no secret of the fact that I'm a lingerie junkie. I love the stuff. And I love to wear it for people who appreciate it, and can appreciate the fact that it's no easy task for me to wear it, looking 'not perfect'. Aside from the fact that putting it on makes me feel incredible, that little part of my brain that looks in the mirror still says un-nice things to me. Typically I can shut her up. But she's still there.
I'd like to say that it's the media that's done this to all women - made us feel inadequate, and given us such beautiful women to compare ourselves to. And maybe it is, in part. But the fact of the matter is that most women are raised to believe that men's idea of beauty can only be what they see on TV and in magazines. There's no room for anything else.
Smart women know this isn't true. *I* know this isn't true. But that doesn't always help us get far enough past what we were always taught to believe.
I mentioned last week that I've started looking at corsets. The weekend got away from me and I didn't get my old one out of the bag to try it on, but I will this weekend or maybe sooner, because I really do need a comparison. I saw several that I liked at my favorite lingerie hangouts online (Frederick's, Shirley of Hollywood, Henry and June.com....) and I know that I really should wait to get a new custom made one done, so I'm going to placate myself with a couple of pre-made ones that I feel are going to reflect kindly on me. I have one picked out. I'll probably get 2 or 3.
Despite the lesser amount of insecurity I have with myself now, I do find myself shopping for 'the skimpy stuff' often enough to believe that while - no. I do not look perfect in it - I look good enough to feel good, and good enough for the outfit to serve it's intended purpose.
You know what that purpose is *smirk*
Let me say that in my early 20's, I basically starved myself for 6 months and got down to 135-140 pounds. I looked like shit. My face was pale and the skin looked transparent. I actually looked like I'd been sick for years. But I was thin. And I wore clothes that accentuated that - including lingerie - and wore them with ease and proudly. It didn't take long for the weight to creep back, and when it did, all those clothes (and the ease in which I wore them) went immediately out the window.
I make no secret of the fact that I'm a lingerie junkie. I love the stuff. And I love to wear it for people who appreciate it, and can appreciate the fact that it's no easy task for me to wear it, looking 'not perfect'. Aside from the fact that putting it on makes me feel incredible, that little part of my brain that looks in the mirror still says un-nice things to me. Typically I can shut her up. But she's still there.
I'd like to say that it's the media that's done this to all women - made us feel inadequate, and given us such beautiful women to compare ourselves to. And maybe it is, in part. But the fact of the matter is that most women are raised to believe that men's idea of beauty can only be what they see on TV and in magazines. There's no room for anything else.
Smart women know this isn't true. *I* know this isn't true. But that doesn't always help us get far enough past what we were always taught to believe.
I mentioned last week that I've started looking at corsets. The weekend got away from me and I didn't get my old one out of the bag to try it on, but I will this weekend or maybe sooner, because I really do need a comparison. I saw several that I liked at my favorite lingerie hangouts online (Frederick's, Shirley of Hollywood, Henry and June.com....) and I know that I really should wait to get a new custom made one done, so I'm going to placate myself with a couple of pre-made ones that I feel are going to reflect kindly on me. I have one picked out. I'll probably get 2 or 3.
Despite the lesser amount of insecurity I have with myself now, I do find myself shopping for 'the skimpy stuff' often enough to believe that while - no. I do not look perfect in it - I look good enough to feel good, and good enough for the outfit to serve it's intended purpose.
You know what that purpose is *smirk*
Monday, July 16, 2007
Do. Are.
I won't take credit for this phrase, but I will repeat it often and loudly:
BDSM is what we do. D/s is who we are.
I spent a lot of my busy-time this weekend thinking about that.
Fact is, there are an awful lot of dominant/submissive relationships in this country populated by people who've never heard of BDSM, never touched a whip, never owned a stitch of leather clothing. Are they all healthy relationships? No. But neither are all BDSM relationships healthy. (As always, I'm well aware of the thick, dark line that separates consent and abuse)
If I never had a flogger swung at me again for the rest of my days, I'd be fine.
If I never got hogtied again, I'm sure I'd survive.
If I never went to a munch/play party/rally/weekend function again, I'm sure I'd live.
As a matter of fact.... I've survived more than three years that way so far. It's actually almost a full circle thing for me. Because as far as what I want right now, this is pretty much where I started out 14 years ago. The difference is that I'm not running away from those things like I did in the beginning -- but having experienced them all, I can say honestly that I can live without them, if it never comes to pass for me again. That pretty much includes all of the 'what we do' stuff.
That’s not to say that I wouldn’t invite or encourage or enjoy them. Just that I can live without them.
I realize that at this point in my life, what I should be looking at is what I can’t live without. And I’m doing some of that, too. But this comes along for the ride.
I don’t need the trappings. I don’t need the expensive toys (though I have a bag full of them), I don’t need the leather clothes (got some of those, too) or the weekends surrounded by other kinky people (though they can be fun).
What I need is someone who understands how to dominate – me.
And when I figure out what that means… I’ll be ahead of the game /wink
BDSM is what we do. D/s is who we are.
I spent a lot of my busy-time this weekend thinking about that.
Fact is, there are an awful lot of dominant/submissive relationships in this country populated by people who've never heard of BDSM, never touched a whip, never owned a stitch of leather clothing. Are they all healthy relationships? No. But neither are all BDSM relationships healthy. (As always, I'm well aware of the thick, dark line that separates consent and abuse)
If I never had a flogger swung at me again for the rest of my days, I'd be fine.
If I never got hogtied again, I'm sure I'd survive.
If I never went to a munch/play party/rally/weekend function again, I'm sure I'd live.
As a matter of fact.... I've survived more than three years that way so far. It's actually almost a full circle thing for me. Because as far as what I want right now, this is pretty much where I started out 14 years ago. The difference is that I'm not running away from those things like I did in the beginning -- but having experienced them all, I can say honestly that I can live without them, if it never comes to pass for me again. That pretty much includes all of the 'what we do' stuff.
That’s not to say that I wouldn’t invite or encourage or enjoy them. Just that I can live without them.
I realize that at this point in my life, what I should be looking at is what I can’t live without. And I’m doing some of that, too. But this comes along for the ride.
I don’t need the trappings. I don’t need the expensive toys (though I have a bag full of them), I don’t need the leather clothes (got some of those, too) or the weekends surrounded by other kinky people (though they can be fun).
What I need is someone who understands how to dominate – me.
And when I figure out what that means… I’ll be ahead of the game /wink
A bit of reality.
For as long as I can remember, everything that went wrong in my life, I could somehow blame on my weight. I didn't get a job or promotion I wanted, a guy I wanted, I didn't get to do things I wanted --- always because I was overweight.
In the last two years, I've slowly been losing that excuse. And this morning, when I put on a new shirt I got last week, and looked in the mirror - and looked almost *gasp* normal -- I realized that excuse was pretty much gone for good.
I've spent the morning contemplating that. I had wondered why lately I've been a bit touchy about some things, and perhaps this is the reason. I seem to be taking things far more personally lately than I used to. Sometimes the slightest slight (ya, okay, not my greatest turn-of-phrase, sorry) leaves me feeling a bit vulnerable and anxious lately.
I'm not crazy about feeling that way. At a time when I should be feeling *better*, I actually seem to be sometimes (only sometimes) making myself feel worse.
It's not every slight, every bit of rudeness, every missed opportunity. But when it does hit, it hits harder than it should.
I spent so many years with such a thick inner-coating that I never had to toughen up and get a thicker skin. I guess I'm going to have to do that now.
And that's not a bad thing. The fact that after a couple of weeks of feeling this way, I've acknowledged and recognized it for what it is is a good thing. I just need to learn what to do with it :p These bits of realization are good; it's just solving the puzzles that illuminate them that seems hard.
But I'm always up for a challenge :)
In the last two years, I've slowly been losing that excuse. And this morning, when I put on a new shirt I got last week, and looked in the mirror - and looked almost *gasp* normal -- I realized that excuse was pretty much gone for good.
I've spent the morning contemplating that. I had wondered why lately I've been a bit touchy about some things, and perhaps this is the reason. I seem to be taking things far more personally lately than I used to. Sometimes the slightest slight (ya, okay, not my greatest turn-of-phrase, sorry) leaves me feeling a bit vulnerable and anxious lately.
I'm not crazy about feeling that way. At a time when I should be feeling *better*, I actually seem to be sometimes (only sometimes) making myself feel worse.
It's not every slight, every bit of rudeness, every missed opportunity. But when it does hit, it hits harder than it should.
I spent so many years with such a thick inner-coating that I never had to toughen up and get a thicker skin. I guess I'm going to have to do that now.
And that's not a bad thing. The fact that after a couple of weeks of feeling this way, I've acknowledged and recognized it for what it is is a good thing. I just need to learn what to do with it :p These bits of realization are good; it's just solving the puzzles that illuminate them that seems hard.
But I'm always up for a challenge :)
Saturday, July 14, 2007
It's there or it ain't.
I either feel it, or I don't.
In my 14 years experiencing and experimenting with BDSM, I don't think there's ever been an occasion where it took time for me to feel at least a little submissive to someone. Typically I know right off whether that's going to happen for me with a man or not.
I can't tell you what sets my brain that direction. And I can't tell you what qualities will unilaterally make it so. It's just an instinct; a gut feeling that starts in my throat and ends up somewhere past my knees. It may start off as less than it ends up, but there is always a twitch of it in the beginning - or there never is.
I've felt nothing for some respected (and well-liked by me) dominants. And then again I've felt utterly and wholly submissive to some vanilla men who didn't know a thing (or at least not much) about BDSM. I've met some dominants that I felt more topp-y toward than submissive.
It's all relative. It's all about what I *feel*, rather than what I hear or see.
I think this is part of the problem that new submissives face when they start meeting people in the 'community'. Dom A. has a great reputation, is attractive and friendly - and they automatically feel as if they *should feel submissive to him, so they 'do', when they really don't.
There's absolutely nothing wrong with not having that dominant/submissive chemistry with someone. I don't care if he's the most experienced dominant on the planet, if you don't feel it - you just don't feel it. Maybe the guy standing next to him, his mostly-vanilla best friend, is more your style and you instantly feel submissive to *him. That's perfectly okay. As a matter of fact, if you can admit to it - to yourself especially - you're already one step ahead of some people.
In my 14 years experiencing and experimenting with BDSM, I don't think there's ever been an occasion where it took time for me to feel at least a little submissive to someone. Typically I know right off whether that's going to happen for me with a man or not.
I can't tell you what sets my brain that direction. And I can't tell you what qualities will unilaterally make it so. It's just an instinct; a gut feeling that starts in my throat and ends up somewhere past my knees. It may start off as less than it ends up, but there is always a twitch of it in the beginning - or there never is.
I've felt nothing for some respected (and well-liked by me) dominants. And then again I've felt utterly and wholly submissive to some vanilla men who didn't know a thing (or at least not much) about BDSM. I've met some dominants that I felt more topp-y toward than submissive.
It's all relative. It's all about what I *feel*, rather than what I hear or see.
I think this is part of the problem that new submissives face when they start meeting people in the 'community'. Dom A. has a great reputation, is attractive and friendly - and they automatically feel as if they *should feel submissive to him, so they 'do', when they really don't.
There's absolutely nothing wrong with not having that dominant/submissive chemistry with someone. I don't care if he's the most experienced dominant on the planet, if you don't feel it - you just don't feel it. Maybe the guy standing next to him, his mostly-vanilla best friend, is more your style and you instantly feel submissive to *him. That's perfectly okay. As a matter of fact, if you can admit to it - to yourself especially - you're already one step ahead of some people.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Bittersweet
It happened again.
I pulled a blouse out of my closet this morning to wear to work, put it on, and it's too big.
I know I shouldn't complain about that, and I'm really not. I always get a little smile on my face when I have to toss something into the give-away box (which is currently overflowing and needs emptied - again). But some of these clothes, I've had for a long time, and waited a long time to wear. And then I only ended up getting to wear them for a short time. This blouse, for example. It's a tailored, fancy white blouse I bought several years ago, and it ended up being way too small. It's just been hanging around since, waiting to be worn. A couple months ago, I washed and bleached it in prep to wear it. I wore it twice. Now it has to go.
I did wear it today, even though it's too big. This weekend I'll wash it and fold it and put it in the box. But I'll never find another like it, and I really like the style of it.
There are several things hanging in the back of my closet that were a bit too small when I bought them. I guess this weekend I'll run through those and see how many of them fit now. I know a few of those, I'll be happy to add to the 'wear' side of my closet.
Which brings up something else: I'm in the market for a new corset.
Several years ago, while living in California, after breaking up with M, I bought a corset at the San Francisco Fetish Flea Market. It's gorgeous red and black, and for years it fit me perfectly. I haven't had it on for many years, and this weekend I'll get it out of the toybag and wrap it around me. I know it's going to be too big. At a size 18 it fit me perfectly and now as a size 12, I seriously doubt I'll be able to tighten it nearly enough. So I'm looking to get a new one.
I love corsets. I even love the fake-y corsets that you buy from online lingerie stores like Frederick's. I just love the look and feel of them, and what they represent. So I want a new one. One that will fit now, and adjust for the last 11 pounds I have left to lose (I haven't updated that lately, have I? Yes, I'm down to 11 to the doctor's goal. We'll see how I feel there, I may go for a few more after). I want a custom made one. I'm willing to spend the money to get something I really like.
Until then, I guess I'll make due with ones from lingerie stores *grin*
I pulled a blouse out of my closet this morning to wear to work, put it on, and it's too big.
I know I shouldn't complain about that, and I'm really not. I always get a little smile on my face when I have to toss something into the give-away box (which is currently overflowing and needs emptied - again). But some of these clothes, I've had for a long time, and waited a long time to wear. And then I only ended up getting to wear them for a short time. This blouse, for example. It's a tailored, fancy white blouse I bought several years ago, and it ended up being way too small. It's just been hanging around since, waiting to be worn. A couple months ago, I washed and bleached it in prep to wear it. I wore it twice. Now it has to go.
I did wear it today, even though it's too big. This weekend I'll wash it and fold it and put it in the box. But I'll never find another like it, and I really like the style of it.
There are several things hanging in the back of my closet that were a bit too small when I bought them. I guess this weekend I'll run through those and see how many of them fit now. I know a few of those, I'll be happy to add to the 'wear' side of my closet.
Which brings up something else: I'm in the market for a new corset.
Several years ago, while living in California, after breaking up with M, I bought a corset at the San Francisco Fetish Flea Market. It's gorgeous red and black, and for years it fit me perfectly. I haven't had it on for many years, and this weekend I'll get it out of the toybag and wrap it around me. I know it's going to be too big. At a size 18 it fit me perfectly and now as a size 12, I seriously doubt I'll be able to tighten it nearly enough. So I'm looking to get a new one.
I love corsets. I even love the fake-y corsets that you buy from online lingerie stores like Frederick's. I just love the look and feel of them, and what they represent. So I want a new one. One that will fit now, and adjust for the last 11 pounds I have left to lose (I haven't updated that lately, have I? Yes, I'm down to 11 to the doctor's goal. We'll see how I feel there, I may go for a few more after). I want a custom made one. I'm willing to spend the money to get something I really like.
Until then, I guess I'll make due with ones from lingerie stores *grin*
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Things You Don’t Need To Know….
…and I should be embarrassed to admit to anyone.
1. Tonight on the way home from work, I was blasting old Bon Jovi on my stereo. I’m talking “In These Arms” old. Half the music in my car (and a good chunk of my iPod) are full of 80’s hairband rock and roll and I blast it at every opportunity.
2. I’m addicted to these Eclipse Mints. I started buying them because I was trying to cut down on my smoking but turns out, I just love them, period. If I get close to running out, I’ll make a special trip to the gas station or Walgreen’s to get more.
3. All through high school, I bet I had 2 zits. Since I turned 30, I get 1 or 2 a month. My doctor says its hormones. I say it’s because my sister – who had terrible acne in high school – put a hex on me.
4. I bought the first season of Melrose Place on DVD.
5. I have 5 hotmail accounts, 2 gmail accounts, 2 accounts off my domain and 2 yahoo accounts. I don’t know why I collect email addresses like some women collect purses, but I only have two purses at any given time so I figure I’m allowed.
6. After writing #1 about Bon Jovi, I promptly fired up iTunes and started playing all the Bon Jovi I have on my hard drive. That’s currently 7 songs. But as I write I’m searching iTunes for more.
7. Of all the catalogs and crap I get in the mail, I look at the Frederick’s and Victoria’s Secret catalogs first.
8. If something is red, the chances I’ll buy it instantly double.
9. My fingernails match the color of my car right now.
10. I blatantly stole this idea from an email I got on MySpace (yes, I have a MySpace, bite me)
1. Tonight on the way home from work, I was blasting old Bon Jovi on my stereo. I’m talking “In These Arms” old. Half the music in my car (and a good chunk of my iPod) are full of 80’s hairband rock and roll and I blast it at every opportunity.
2. I’m addicted to these Eclipse Mints. I started buying them because I was trying to cut down on my smoking but turns out, I just love them, period. If I get close to running out, I’ll make a special trip to the gas station or Walgreen’s to get more.
3. All through high school, I bet I had 2 zits. Since I turned 30, I get 1 or 2 a month. My doctor says its hormones. I say it’s because my sister – who had terrible acne in high school – put a hex on me.
4. I bought the first season of Melrose Place on DVD.
5. I have 5 hotmail accounts, 2 gmail accounts, 2 accounts off my domain and 2 yahoo accounts. I don’t know why I collect email addresses like some women collect purses, but I only have two purses at any given time so I figure I’m allowed.
6. After writing #1 about Bon Jovi, I promptly fired up iTunes and started playing all the Bon Jovi I have on my hard drive. That’s currently 7 songs. But as I write I’m searching iTunes for more.
7. Of all the catalogs and crap I get in the mail, I look at the Frederick’s and Victoria’s Secret catalogs first.
8. If something is red, the chances I’ll buy it instantly double.
9. My fingernails match the color of my car right now.
10. I blatantly stole this idea from an email I got on MySpace (yes, I have a MySpace, bite me)
Lambasted
On one of the d/s email lists I'm on - one that's pretty inactive most of the time - a submissive woman made a posting about something bad that had happened to her. I did feel bad for her, and probably wouldn't have responded at all, except for some reason she felt it necessary to make some off-hand comment about how 'we' 'in the lifestyle' are so much more 'aware' of things like health and safety issues.
We are? Really?
No, we are not. That's a myth; a crock of shit, actually. Submissive men and women are no more careful than anyone else who meet people either in clubs or online. It's yet another way for 'lifestylers' to elevate themselves apart from, or above, vanilla people but it's just not fact.
And it's one of my biggest pet peeves in the 'lifestyle'.
I almost let it go. I sat on it for a couple minutes, and re-wrote my response to her a few times. In the end, I was simply blunt in saying that - no, sorry - we aren't any better at it than Joe Vanilla down the street.
Then I got accused of lambasting her when she'd come seeking support. Yea, who didn't see that coming? I don't know who put it in the submissive rule book that we were supposed to be sweet to everyone and supportive of people even when they act like idiots, but I ripped that out of my book and burned it in effigy.
Maybe I need to come with a warning label: "Warning: Fluffy, Cuddly BDSM Bullshit not tolerated on these premises. Feel free to move along." I am straightforward. I am honest. I am realistic. I am -- Screamer.
I did discover that this isn't just the 'lifestyle' that does this, though - the whole 'we must be nice' thing.
Awhile back, in one of the online games I play, I got treated very poorly by someone I had been friends with for quite some time. I took my leave of him, and most of his friends at that point, and just ignored them. Awhile later, one of his female friends caught up with me on Myspace and tried to get me to talk to her, and to return to being friendly with them all. I patiently explained to her that as an adult female, I get to choose who I associate with, and because of the way I felt violated by my former friend, I didn't choose to associate with him at all.
And then I got lambasted for being 'immature'.
What, just cause I don't want to cuddle up to someone who fucked me over? God, the nerve of me.
In truth, I am an empath, and I do feel realistic pain from people who've been hurt. But I have no empathy - or sympathy - for people who knowingly and willingly bring it onto themselves, intentionally or not. And as I said, I did feel bad for the submissive. But not bad enough to let her 'holier than thou' remark fly. Which apparently negates me telling her that I was sorry for her pain somehow.
Who makes these rules? *snicker*
Remind me to go back through the Submissive Rule Book and rip out those pages, too.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Self-imposed
I’ve written very little since I came back from the east coast last week. Typically, I’d say it was because of work, or because it was too hot in my duplex (both of which are true to a point) but there was something else at work this time. Something self-imposed and not very pleasing to the self it was imposed upon.
I can’t even say the exact reason for the imposition, except to say that it was because of a gentleman I was dating, and his enjoyment of this blog. I didn’t stop on purpose; I just got careful.
And I dislike my reasoning for that, noble or kind as it may have been in thought; in deed it was censoring myself and I dislike the idea that I did that.
All in all, though, the whole thing wasn’t a total loss. I got my feet wet, and had some choices put in front of me that forced me to take another hard long look at what I really want and need from a relationship – whether it’s a d/s relationship, or a relationship with d/s overtones – and while I still don’t know for sure, at least it all got brought up into my face so to speak, and demanded that I take a look.
And you know me. I don’t shy away from the thinking thing. Good, bad or indifferent, it seems to be something I’m relatively good at.
Everyone has a strong suit, right?
Anyway. It’s time to attack the growing blog list again.
Now if only work would settle down and the weather would cooperate…..
I can’t even say the exact reason for the imposition, except to say that it was because of a gentleman I was dating, and his enjoyment of this blog. I didn’t stop on purpose; I just got careful.
And I dislike my reasoning for that, noble or kind as it may have been in thought; in deed it was censoring myself and I dislike the idea that I did that.
All in all, though, the whole thing wasn’t a total loss. I got my feet wet, and had some choices put in front of me that forced me to take another hard long look at what I really want and need from a relationship – whether it’s a d/s relationship, or a relationship with d/s overtones – and while I still don’t know for sure, at least it all got brought up into my face so to speak, and demanded that I take a look.
And you know me. I don’t shy away from the thinking thing. Good, bad or indifferent, it seems to be something I’m relatively good at.
Everyone has a strong suit, right?
Anyway. It’s time to attack the growing blog list again.
Now if only work would settle down and the weather would cooperate…..
Monday, July 09, 2007
Boyfriend, Dominant, Independence.....
No, I haven't been writing much lately. Chalk it up to summer-time, being busy, working too hard and trying to sort through some newer feelings/emotions/situations that have come into my life in the last several weeks.
A few days ago, I asked a question of a new friend of mine. The question was, what he felt was the difference between a girlfriend and a submissive.
It's only fair that I answer the converse of that, right? So I figured I'd do that here.
What's the difference between a boyfriend and a dominant?
I could just say 'depends on the man' and be done with it, but y'all know me better than that. /wink
I've had two major dominant/submissive relationships in my life. Both of these were (eventually) living together or married type relationships. Partnerships. Full-blown "in love" kinda things. In those cases, there were very defined lines between the girlfriend and the submissive, the dominant and the boyfriend. In one, I married someone in the military which makes those lines very fat and thick and well drawn. In the other, we lived with his two oldest daughters, which again drew those lines thickly. When there was a threat of one getting crossed (and they did occasionally), it took a great deal of smoothing to make sure that the girls were not uncomfortable with the relationship that we had. (One was, one wasn't).
But now, I sit here at 42 years old. Almost divorced. Independent, enjoying my life for the most part, feeling a sense of self that I've never really had before the last few years. And I wonder idly if the rules for that have changed for me.
I'm guessing they have.
There are a lot of things in my life I'm not willing to give up for the sake of a d/s relationship. At least not right now or anytime soon. My writing schedule (such as it is. I do intend to make a schedule and stick to it soon...hopefully....), my gaming, my family-time, my trips to the east coast to visit friends in Philly and other places. I'm enjoying all of these things right now. The idea of having to put them aside for the sake of having a dominant doesn't make me feel all warm and fuzzy.
And I guess where I see the line between boyfriend and dominant is right there. A full-time dominant would have a 'right' to bend my schedule and time. A boyfriend wouldn't. An occasional request would be fine for me. But having to alter my entire schedule for someone else? I just can't see being comfortable with that. 10 years ago, sure. Now? No. Of course, at some point I may be willing to have them bent, but I fought hard for my independence. I'm not ready to let it go just yet.
Or maybe I'm just not ready for 'serious'. And I'm all right with that, too.
I had to stop and think about the last 'boyfriend' I had where there was no element of d/s in the relationship. I guess my first husband would be the last. I remember that the sex sucked *chuckle* but I was fine with the independence of the relationship.
Gawd, is it possible?
Am I a *gasp* bedroom submissive? *snicker*
Maybe.
I've said many times that d/s is all wrapped up in sex for me. Maybe that just goes a little deeper than I thought. At least right now.
Ask me again in six months, I'll probably have a new answer /wink
A few days ago, I asked a question of a new friend of mine. The question was, what he felt was the difference between a girlfriend and a submissive.
It's only fair that I answer the converse of that, right? So I figured I'd do that here.
What's the difference between a boyfriend and a dominant?
I could just say 'depends on the man' and be done with it, but y'all know me better than that. /wink
I've had two major dominant/submissive relationships in my life. Both of these were (eventually) living together or married type relationships. Partnerships. Full-blown "in love" kinda things. In those cases, there were very defined lines between the girlfriend and the submissive, the dominant and the boyfriend. In one, I married someone in the military which makes those lines very fat and thick and well drawn. In the other, we lived with his two oldest daughters, which again drew those lines thickly. When there was a threat of one getting crossed (and they did occasionally), it took a great deal of smoothing to make sure that the girls were not uncomfortable with the relationship that we had. (One was, one wasn't).
But now, I sit here at 42 years old. Almost divorced. Independent, enjoying my life for the most part, feeling a sense of self that I've never really had before the last few years. And I wonder idly if the rules for that have changed for me.
I'm guessing they have.
There are a lot of things in my life I'm not willing to give up for the sake of a d/s relationship. At least not right now or anytime soon. My writing schedule (such as it is. I do intend to make a schedule and stick to it soon...hopefully....), my gaming, my family-time, my trips to the east coast to visit friends in Philly and other places. I'm enjoying all of these things right now. The idea of having to put them aside for the sake of having a dominant doesn't make me feel all warm and fuzzy.
And I guess where I see the line between boyfriend and dominant is right there. A full-time dominant would have a 'right' to bend my schedule and time. A boyfriend wouldn't. An occasional request would be fine for me. But having to alter my entire schedule for someone else? I just can't see being comfortable with that. 10 years ago, sure. Now? No. Of course, at some point I may be willing to have them bent, but I fought hard for my independence. I'm not ready to let it go just yet.
Or maybe I'm just not ready for 'serious'. And I'm all right with that, too.
I had to stop and think about the last 'boyfriend' I had where there was no element of d/s in the relationship. I guess my first husband would be the last. I remember that the sex sucked *chuckle* but I was fine with the independence of the relationship.
Gawd, is it possible?
Am I a *gasp* bedroom submissive? *snicker*
Maybe.
I've said many times that d/s is all wrapped up in sex for me. Maybe that just goes a little deeper than I thought. At least right now.
Ask me again in six months, I'll probably have a new answer /wink
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Show Off
I’ve had a couple people recently comment to me that they could not do what I do here. Meaning, exposing myself – warts and all as my grandmother used to say – to complete and total strangers.
I gave it a bit of thought, something I’ve never really done before. I have always written, for as long as I can remember. Fiction, non-fiction, poetry, prose. It’s been a part of my life since I was in grade school. Journaling like this isn’t new for me. Obviously, I’ve had this blog for ~4 years now, and before that, I used other methods to journal, mostly private, but occasionally for public consumption.
Why do I do it? I’m not entirely sure.
But I thought about it yesterday and it brought to mind another question:
Am I an exhibitionist?
It’s true that when I lived in California, I played publicly quite often and happily. Despite the fact that I was unhappy with my body, playing in public never bothered me, and often added to the scene for me, depending of course on whom I was playing with. But I never considered that exhibitionistic; it was just what we did.
Later, when I had gained a lot of weight, I stopped wearing anything that showed any part of my body and the very idea of showing any of it off made me wince like crazy.
And up until recently, it remained that way.
I say recently, because the last time I spent the night in a hotel with a man, the room had a balcony, and when I was out there having one cigarette too many, I looked at the moon up in the sky, and the railing of the balcony, and very easily pictured fucking him right there.
That shook me a little. Until I melted it with this subject. And then it made a little sense.
Not because it was exhibitionistic, but because it was spontaneous and felt completely natural.
Much like my writing here does.
I typically don’t stop to think much about what I write here. It’s usually something I’ve been thinking about, and felt a need to put into words. Once I get that feeling, I rarely hesitate to do so, unless the writing would invade someone else’s privacy – in which case, I either don’t write it, or ask permission to write it.
I write here about what’s on my mind at the moment. Whether it has any reflection upon what’s going on in my life at the time or not is irrelevant. It’s what I’m thinking about. I’m not going to say something sappy about hoping my writing helps other submissives or dominants who struggle with their desires – while that’s a nice by-product, it’s not why I write anymore. I write for me. I may write *about someone, but I rarely write *for them, unless it’s a specific piece of fiction that was inspired *by them.
This is all about – and for – me.
I don't write to show off. I don't write to impress. I write for me.
And it would be dishonest if I didn't.
As far as being exhibitionistic goes, the jury is still out. I can honestly say that I have no drive to play in public anymore. If a situation arose and I were comfortable with the people, place and setting, then I may well consider it, but it’s not something I look for. And as far as sex** in public? Well, I have been known to enjoy pushing the envelope occasionally /grin. So maybe. We’ll see.
** = the topic of a soon to come blog: What *is sex?
I gave it a bit of thought, something I’ve never really done before. I have always written, for as long as I can remember. Fiction, non-fiction, poetry, prose. It’s been a part of my life since I was in grade school. Journaling like this isn’t new for me. Obviously, I’ve had this blog for ~4 years now, and before that, I used other methods to journal, mostly private, but occasionally for public consumption.
Why do I do it? I’m not entirely sure.
But I thought about it yesterday and it brought to mind another question:
Am I an exhibitionist?
It’s true that when I lived in California, I played publicly quite often and happily. Despite the fact that I was unhappy with my body, playing in public never bothered me, and often added to the scene for me, depending of course on whom I was playing with. But I never considered that exhibitionistic; it was just what we did.
Later, when I had gained a lot of weight, I stopped wearing anything that showed any part of my body and the very idea of showing any of it off made me wince like crazy.
And up until recently, it remained that way.
I say recently, because the last time I spent the night in a hotel with a man, the room had a balcony, and when I was out there having one cigarette too many, I looked at the moon up in the sky, and the railing of the balcony, and very easily pictured fucking him right there.
That shook me a little. Until I melted it with this subject. And then it made a little sense.
Not because it was exhibitionistic, but because it was spontaneous and felt completely natural.
Much like my writing here does.
I typically don’t stop to think much about what I write here. It’s usually something I’ve been thinking about, and felt a need to put into words. Once I get that feeling, I rarely hesitate to do so, unless the writing would invade someone else’s privacy – in which case, I either don’t write it, or ask permission to write it.
I write here about what’s on my mind at the moment. Whether it has any reflection upon what’s going on in my life at the time or not is irrelevant. It’s what I’m thinking about. I’m not going to say something sappy about hoping my writing helps other submissives or dominants who struggle with their desires – while that’s a nice by-product, it’s not why I write anymore. I write for me. I may write *about someone, but I rarely write *for them, unless it’s a specific piece of fiction that was inspired *by them.
This is all about – and for – me.
I don't write to show off. I don't write to impress. I write for me.
And it would be dishonest if I didn't.
As far as being exhibitionistic goes, the jury is still out. I can honestly say that I have no drive to play in public anymore. If a situation arose and I were comfortable with the people, place and setting, then I may well consider it, but it’s not something I look for. And as far as sex** in public? Well, I have been known to enjoy pushing the envelope occasionally /grin. So maybe. We’ll see.
** = the topic of a soon to come blog: What *is sex?
Monday, July 02, 2007
How Important.
Over the last ten days or so, I’ve had the opportunity to explore a bit about what I really want. That came from two things: first, I had an actual date *smirk and second, I had a few decisions to make about some other things that are going on in my life.
Between thinking and journaling, and asking some questions, I got a bit of clarity that I really needed.
There are a lot of things that are important to me when it comes to men. Things like a sense of humor with a serious side, natural intelligence and leadership, honesty, sensuality, responsibility, confidence, wisdom and discipline. These are traits I look for. As are affection, compromise, and a modicum of compassion.
But when it comes down to it, how many of those things mean anything without sexual chemistry? And if you have the sexual chemistry, is it enough to replace any of those items missing from the list?
The answer to both questions, for me, is not really, not so much, no.
I’m not sure if that’s fortunate or unfortunate.
It places a relatively high value on sex, something that we’re taught from an early age is only a small part of a good relationship.
But is it small? I mean, really? You can admire, respect and care about someone til the cows come home, but is that enough to form and keep a bond with them if there is absolutely no physical chemistry?
On the other hand, it can go opposite. You can have a huge amount of chemistry with someone and know logically in your head that they are not right for you. Are you going to fight that? Or are you going to ignore the logic and let the rest roll on it’s own?
Even if you want to – you simply can’t.
I can hearken back to all of my relationships and see that one side or the other of that equation was perfectly filled in, while the other side looked more like an advanced calculus problem. While I love calc, it’s not really appropriate for long-term relationship logic, is it?
Maybe that’s why I’ve called it ‘settling’ and why I’ve decided it’s not going to work for me anymore.
I try to always approach things with a mixture of logic and heart. Sometimes I am better at that than others and sometimes one side wins out clearly while the other is completely ignored. I know that I over think things and I’m trying to let a bit of that go, but for some things, it has to stay.
That’s *why I question. That’s *why I prefer to discuss things rather than leave them to sit unattended in a crowded airport (sorry, I flew today) and stare aimlessly. I want to *know.
I don’t think that’s a bad thing, either.
Between thinking and journaling, and asking some questions, I got a bit of clarity that I really needed.
There are a lot of things that are important to me when it comes to men. Things like a sense of humor with a serious side, natural intelligence and leadership, honesty, sensuality, responsibility, confidence, wisdom and discipline. These are traits I look for. As are affection, compromise, and a modicum of compassion.
But when it comes down to it, how many of those things mean anything without sexual chemistry? And if you have the sexual chemistry, is it enough to replace any of those items missing from the list?
The answer to both questions, for me, is not really, not so much, no.
I’m not sure if that’s fortunate or unfortunate.
It places a relatively high value on sex, something that we’re taught from an early age is only a small part of a good relationship.
But is it small? I mean, really? You can admire, respect and care about someone til the cows come home, but is that enough to form and keep a bond with them if there is absolutely no physical chemistry?
On the other hand, it can go opposite. You can have a huge amount of chemistry with someone and know logically in your head that they are not right for you. Are you going to fight that? Or are you going to ignore the logic and let the rest roll on it’s own?
Even if you want to – you simply can’t.
I can hearken back to all of my relationships and see that one side or the other of that equation was perfectly filled in, while the other side looked more like an advanced calculus problem. While I love calc, it’s not really appropriate for long-term relationship logic, is it?
Maybe that’s why I’ve called it ‘settling’ and why I’ve decided it’s not going to work for me anymore.
I try to always approach things with a mixture of logic and heart. Sometimes I am better at that than others and sometimes one side wins out clearly while the other is completely ignored. I know that I over think things and I’m trying to let a bit of that go, but for some things, it has to stay.
That’s *why I question. That’s *why I prefer to discuss things rather than leave them to sit unattended in a crowded airport (sorry, I flew today) and stare aimlessly. I want to *know.
I don’t think that’s a bad thing, either.
Honey & Vinegar
I learned something about myself at work last week. I thought maybe it deserved exploring.
There’s another person at the company I work for that I don’t get along with very well. I’m not really sure why, except that most of the time when she can come at me with something, she does so in a very hostile way.
One day last week, she came at me a bit sweeter than that – and found out that if she really wants something from me, the old adage is true – you’re gonna get more flies with honey than vinegar.
I’m not sure I’ve always been that way, but I know that I am now, in most parts of my life. You’re not going to get something from me by badgering or by making me feel guilty (two fail safe methods in years past) but if you ask me nicely and you ask respectfully, then chances are, I’ll not only do what you ask, I’ll do it happily and feel good about doing it.
How that meshes with submission I don’t know yet. It’s not something that I’ve had ample opportunity to explore. I do think that it’s always possible that I’ll revert to the older ways sometimes in that case, but to be honest, I’ve only had one dominant that felt it necessary to use those methods.
I’m not, of course (god forbid) saying that dominants should ask permission for every little thing and nicely and all that. I’m more talking about big things, things that will impact more of my life than a scene or sex. Again, I’m not entirely sure it applies at all in that area.
But it certainly does everywhere else. I’m glad for the opportunity to have recognized yet another change in myself and my habits.
There’s another person at the company I work for that I don’t get along with very well. I’m not really sure why, except that most of the time when she can come at me with something, she does so in a very hostile way.
One day last week, she came at me a bit sweeter than that – and found out that if she really wants something from me, the old adage is true – you’re gonna get more flies with honey than vinegar.
I’m not sure I’ve always been that way, but I know that I am now, in most parts of my life. You’re not going to get something from me by badgering or by making me feel guilty (two fail safe methods in years past) but if you ask me nicely and you ask respectfully, then chances are, I’ll not only do what you ask, I’ll do it happily and feel good about doing it.
How that meshes with submission I don’t know yet. It’s not something that I’ve had ample opportunity to explore. I do think that it’s always possible that I’ll revert to the older ways sometimes in that case, but to be honest, I’ve only had one dominant that felt it necessary to use those methods.
I’m not, of course (god forbid) saying that dominants should ask permission for every little thing and nicely and all that. I’m more talking about big things, things that will impact more of my life than a scene or sex. Again, I’m not entirely sure it applies at all in that area.
But it certainly does everywhere else. I’m glad for the opportunity to have recognized yet another change in myself and my habits.
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