Tuesday, June 16, 2015

Why I Don't Approach Men On CM or OKC

I belong to both Collarspace (formerly CollarMe) and OKCupid. I've noticed that available women are rare on both sites, or at least women who really are women. I'm not exactly sure on the ratio, but I will say that there is no lack of male attention, whether or not the woman has a profile picture. 

The problem (as I see it) is that men who are 5's (on a scale of 1-10, 10 being most physically attractive) expect to be with women who are 9's or 10's. It doesn't work that way in real life, but they feel 'entitled.' In the meantime, there are women who are 5's that like men who are 4's and they're being told by the men that they aren’t attractive enough. Color me confused. I thought attraction was based on intelligence, commonalities, and that 'special something' otherwise known as pheromones. I guess I was wrong.

So, as I said above, I don't approach men because, while I'm acquainted with rejection, I don’t want to be the instigator. Let the man show interest in me. Let him prove to me that he has things in common and is intelligent, or he can at least make a sentence with words and punctuation. The rest is easy. A face to face so I can decide if he is as he presented himself, and I enjoy his company. Picking up on the subtleties of speech, detecting the odor of cigarettes, too much cologne, or alcohol, and various other things allows me to make a decision about a man. In fact, within the first 10 minutes of meeting someone, I already know if I want to see them again. Predicting their impression isn’t so easy, but usually the attraction or the lack thereof is mutual. Since I don't pretend that I'm interested when I'm not, it's easy. I am who I am, and I'm not for everyone, and I tell people that before I meet them.

My typical interaction goes like this:

Him: Hi! My name is Average Joe and I read your profile. I was surprised by all we have in common. I enjoy using unnecessary superlatives too! My hobbies are basket-weaving and sleeping in front of the TV with sports playing at full blast. My favorite music is disco, and I'm a great dancer, I won a prize in third grade. Would you please take the time to read my most excellent profile and let me know if you're interested?

Me: Hello Joe!
I read your profile, and it appears we do have lots in common. It amazes me how your profile appears to be custom written for me. How do you feel about bats in your cave?

Him: I prefer to let my bats hang, cause they’re so very happy in there. I was wondering, when could we meet? I'm so excited about taking you dancing and I’m just thrilled that we can weave baskets together!

Me: (already beginning to question myself) How about Friday at noon? We can meet at Mickey D's on Main Street.

Him: I'm so excited and super impressed that you want to meet me, Also, I was wondering if you could send me a picture of you because your description and picture on your profile isn't nearly good enough.

Me: (sighs internally) Sure, nothing would give me greater joy than have you build me up, and then criticize my crooked nose and huge feet.

Him: I can't wait! Even though I'm a 4, I just know you'll be an 11 ¾!

Me: Here are some recent pictures I painstakingly picked out because it shows me with my dog, and this other one because my eyes are so pretty.

Him: uhmm... well... you're not even a 10, you're a 6 at best, and in spite of the fact that appearance-wise I'm a 4, I expect to only be seem with a 10. I don't care that we share these interests and might be compatible in all these other areas because you must be be-yoo-tee-full !

Me: It figures...

Honestly, I'm okay with being a 5 appearance-wise. I rate higher in areas that I feel are of greater importance, so I really don't worry. Only I wish that people were a bit more honest about things. For example, if you want a Barbie doll, say it! But say it on your profile so I can ignore you.


Tuesday, June 9, 2015

Calming effect

The simplest things can have a calming effect on me, A hug, a smile, a well-timed phone call, a spanking... As introverted and antisocial as I am, I still need those 'strokes' to get me out of myself. I will often let tiny things take over and destroy me. Yeah, it's personal.

I dissect things constantly. It's my nature to do so. I want to see what's inside of things, especially me. I carefully dissect others, and work hard to put things back exactly as I found them. With myself, I rip and tear with gleeful abandon, forgetting that my duty to myself is to nurture and love myself, because I'm really the only one who can 'fix' me. That last sentence was courtesy of  my damned self-awareness that makes my psychiatrist/therapist so proud of me. (grumbles) Okay, so I'm careful with others, not so much with myself.  I allow my worries and feelings to get the better of me. I panic, I worry, and I go into this awful feeling of self-loathing. Then I drop, and I drop hard.

I wish my understanding all this made it easier on me, but, dammit! It makes it worse. I have miserable, stupid pity parties that manage to confuse everyone around me. "Oh, is that what got you worked up? Why that's nothing!" I want to scream out loud and say "Sure! To you it's nothing, to me, its a fucking disaster!" Fortunately, I learned how to bite my tongue a long time ago. Good thing, too, or I wouldn't have any friends!

So, anyway, I spent a huge portion of my day yesterday in bed feeling sorry for myself, wondering where and how I managed to fuck things up. Yes, I always blame myself. It's just how I am. I finally wrote about it to get it out of my system, and when my head finally hit the pillow about 4 this morning, I was feeling a little better.

When I got out of bed about noon, I had even pretty much resolved that I had overreacted as usual, and that there had to be a logical explanation as to why I didn't get a response.  I mean, I know Spike. He wouldn't just outright ignore a request without good reason or an explanation. Sure enough, when I checked my phone, there was a test from him saying he was fine, and he didn't receive the text I sent him on Friday. Yes, this is good and a relief, but now I'm second-guessing myself, worrying that my emotional overreaction will scare him away. Again, with the tearing myself apart!

it's not Spike's job to reassure me that I'm okay. It's my job to tell myself that this overreacting is a bit much, and I need to relax. Whatever happens, happens. It's not the end of the world. It is whatever it's meant to be, and I have to stop tearing myself apart. Life goes on. Life will go on whether or not I've fucked up, and I have to quit worrying. All worrying will do is make me miserable all over again.

So, yes, I feel better, calmer. Now I just have to relax and not worry about what might happen next.

Monday, June 8, 2015


What is wrong with me???

I maintain a transparent relationship with both Stitch and Shilo. I mean, I tell them everything I do with others, (except for details concerning the other, unless they ask) my feelings, my actions. Nothing is secret, nothing is sacred. Except for maybe this time, but mostly because I'm confused about my feelings. I'm feeling awfully conflicted right now. Well, actually, maybe the past 24 hours.

I tend to 'box' things and people. Either I like or dislike people, and the ones I dislike, I either ignore or tolerate them, and I'm always on my best behavior, being nice even if it kills me inside. There are vanillas, kinksters, and acquaintances. Acquaintances are people I see on a somewhat regular basis, like my favorite checker at the grocery store or the butcher. I make no guesses as to whether they're kinky or not. As for kinky people, there are the ones that I encounter online (like Fetlife) the ones I see when I go places, the ones I play with, the ones that will approach me and ask to play with me, the ones in a relationship with me, and the one I'm dating. (yeah, I've been casually dating a sub for nearly a year now) Then there's Spike. I can't box him. I mean, I'd love to box him, but that wasn't part of our agreement. I mean, there's others like Spike, but I think that right now, Spike is what has me bothered. Let me make this clear: Spike isn't the only one who has been the source of this feeling, and it's not his fault.

I enjoy playing. I love the "high" I get after playing with someone I like. The feedback, the closeness, the whole thing. As a rule, the good feeling will often last for days, and will gradually taper off. Then there are the other ones. I feel good for a day or two, then BOOM! I feel like shit. I thought about it, and tried to figure out what the common denominator was (besides me, of course!) and I came to a conclusion. In every case where I had this horrible drop, two things happened: The first was that it was with someone I really liked. The second was that aftercare was lacking. No, not the traditional aftercare, but the day after aftercare. Usually I'll call to check in with the person I played with the next day to make sure they're okay. We talk for a minute or two, and that's it. I feel good, they feel good. In Spike's case (as well as a few others) I only had the option of texting, and the text wasn't returned. It's amazing how much that small gesture can mean.

That check-in allows me to help the person process things, and I will often use it as a way to talk about potential drop. It shows the person that I care about their feelings, and even if we never play together again, it allows for some closure. When I don't get to do the check-in, I worry about the other person. I mean, it doesn't matter if a person is brand new or has several decades worth of experience, I want to be sure I gave that person a positive experience with me. Naturally, there's been "disasters" in the dungeon, but being able to dissect it away from the dungeon helps the both of us.

So, today I felt like shit. I was in bed all day. Yes, I'll admit that I've been beating Shilo's ass the past few days and it's been fun and fulfilling, and even sexy at times, but it doesn't 'make up' for the hurt and negative feelings I'm feeling. One cannot replace the other. Believe me, I wish it did. Writing abut this helps a little, and maybe talking about it with Daddy Wayne and Shilo tomorrow will help, but time will fix this as well. My "drops" don't last forever, it just feels that way.

Now maybe I can work through all this and start healing.

Thursday, June 4, 2015

Spike: The Aftermath

More of the same... Not really, but let's say that there wasn't the usual awkwardness that I have had with former subs/lovers in the past. It was like all those years apart hadn't really happened. It was obvious to me that he made an effort to look good for me, Still, we were both cautious to not fall into any traps that we feared. I made a point to introduce him to Shilo, since they had obviously never met, and I directed him into Stitch's room, mostly re-purposed as a 'dungeon' the night before, with a few added touches this morning. I poured coffee and brought it to him and he drank it while we talked. We used our proper names when talking, and got caught up on medical conditions, commenting on how age and medications affected how we played with others. Not our typical conversation. No "I missed you," no "I love you's" just comments on how much some things had changed or stayed the same.

We talked back and forth for an hour, with me covering my expectations on honesty and transparency, and him acknowledging his prior reluctance to do so, and his desire to do so now, and what he was currently doing in his vanilla life. Then I smiled and told him to get undressed. I silently noticed that the visual of his naked body, while pleasing, did not elicit any involuntary reactions or feelings. For the very first time, I saw him as he was, and not as an object of my desire, sexual or otherwise.

Since I couldn't remember very much about our past, and the things that he liked, I had him stand in the corner. This is something Shilo enjoys, so I thought I'd try it. Personally, it does nothing for me. Apparently, it did nothing for him as well. After having him confess what a naughty boy he'd been, I had him climb onto the spanking bench.

Spike was among the earliest masochists that I was with. He enjoyed it hard and rough, and other than a few swats on his backside, as warm up (if you could call it that) I laid into him using medium hard strokes. OOPS! I guess that his advanced age and medications has tenderized him a little, and he asked me to stop after about 20 swats using the heavy leather tawse. While I was okay with him asking to stop, he was upset and disappointed that we couldn't continue.

I told him to get on the bed and lay down, and I could tell he wanted to argue the point, so I repeated mt request politely. Finally realizing it was a demand, he did so, and I took off my outfit, leaving my black lace panties on, and I held him and we talked some more. It felt good and right being with him like that, and we discussed the probability of him returning to play again. I guess I left enough of an impression (pun intended) that he set up a date with me in the near future, and when it was time for him to go, he got dressed, and we hugged goodbye, It was very fitting and comfortable, and I'm looking forward to seeing him again, and maybe going further into negotiations with him.

In Other News:

Shilo appears to be feeling better on his gluten-free diet, which led to Shilo asking me for a "funishment" session about an hour after Spike left. While I'm not holding my breath waiting for another session with him, it was the first time since late October that we played hard enough for me to leave marks.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Tuesday, June 2, 2015

It's Over...

Yes, it's all over, and, for the first time in a long time, I can breathe a sigh of relief, and not look over my back. 

In the middle of November last year, my sister and myself applied for co-conservatorship of Danny (AKA: Child #4) Because his father (My ex-husband AKA: Deadbeat) was trying to make it difficult for us to handle Danny's medical needs, going so far as to take her off of Danny's record as a contact and telling his neurologist conflicting information.

The piles of paperwork and repeated monthly court dates are over. Deadbeat was told at the last court date by the judge that he could not block it verbally anymore, and that he would have to fill out court papers and file it along with proof that we were unsuitable. Oh, believe me when I say that he managed to smear my name in the mud, filling the ears of anyone who would listen about my lies, laziness and neglect, and my mental health problems. What wasn't outright lies was such an exaggeration of the truth, that it necessitated me submitting copies of every court document, including police reports and a letter from my therapist stating my fitness and ability to handle Danny.

Thank God he knows nothing of my kinks or lifestyle! Oh, nevermind! He mentioned my sister's porn business too. To have our private lives opened like that was unnecessary. The mental and emotional scarring was re-opened. Also, during those 7 months of fighting, Danny was hospitalized 3 times, with a total of 15 days in the hospital. There's a reason I call his father 'Deadbeat.' Not once in all those times did he visit or contribute to hospital or medication/treatment costs. My credit is ruined, and the bills for Danny keeps rising. I will just briefly mention his lack of child support here.

Well, Deadbeat is living proof of my prior stupidity and prior decisions. But let's not dwell on the horrible past. It's not edifying and it causes me much pain. Besides, I can rejoice that this is over, and that's the important part!

Apparently, after that last court date, Deadbeat got all the paperwork and found out the filing fees and decided that he didn't have the time, patience, or money to object. He called last week to inform me that he had a change of heart. My youngest child told my sister that his dad tried to get him and his other brothers to testify against me. Even our oldest child (who all but called me a whore in my own home 2 Christmases ago) wouldn't do it, and Deadbeat realized he was fighting a losing battle.

I'm not perfect, and I'm certainly no angel, but I raised my boys the best I could with no help and was a good example for them. I guess in spite of everything, I raised them right.

So, it's over. I can finally breathe knowing that as Danny's medical and mental condition declines, my sister and I can do whatever we can to keep him happy and comfortable with no interference from his father.


It's not necessarily a bad thing. Think of sexual tension and the warm ache you get from it.Think of the tension of waiting for a good thing to happen. The tingle of anticipation, the longing ache you get from waiting, and the inevitable pleasure you get when the time is right. The precious release that is so desired. The past few days, when other things aren't in my thoughts, that's where I am. That place between pleasure and pressure, waiting for release. Wanting it now, but with the knowledge that anything worth having is worth waiting for. That delicious ecstasy that awaits me.


I've grown up a bit, and I know there's a difference between fantasy and reality, and, yes, I've had more than my share of experiences where the reality far surpassed any fantasy in my head. Yes, I've been severely disappointed, but not that much. I also know that time and practice only makes for increasingly better experiences. I secretly hate my high hopes right now, mostly out of a fear of failure. Yeah, I hate that "F" word. Failure. A thing that is unsuccessful or disappointing. ::Deep breath:: The good thing is that that particular fear only lasts an instant. Pinning my hopes and dreams on an idea. Waiting on a pleasurable idea to come to fruition. Knowing that that particular feeling is shared with the other party makes it a little better.

Spike: I thought he was lost and long gone. Out of reach, out of sight but always on my mind. Spike, formerly known as _______, returning to me.  A thought I never entertained I could laugh at the reversal of fortune, but most people wouldn't get it. The events that brought this to me are just weird.

Counting, counting. counting... and Bedtime is upon me. Sleeping, dreaming, and hoping for the best!