Archive for December, 2012

Menses: Gross or Gorgeous. abbr.

A: Beautiful. So amazing that 1/2 of our species can produce vivid red and not be wounded in the conventional sense, though it’s not always the bed of lovely red roses as presented once per month.

B: I don’t trust anything that bleeds for 5 days and doesn’t die.


…even though we haven’t even met yet. My response?:

“Oh my lord from what planet did you beam down. These are all of the things that I only ever preach should happen before this sort of thing. The formerly 16-year-old high school sexual health educator in me leaps for joyI was monogamous with my first partner (who was clean) for two, and have yet to be tested since my recent rampant, latex-featuring, belt-notching. In fact, testing is on my immediate list upon returning to the city, along with pick up Nuvaring and anxiety meds of poison from Duane Reade. I will absolutely let you know what I learn when I learn.

Consent is good. You can also know I try to be pretty communicative. Which is one of the reasons I like this site and I really like you. 🙂

And relationships come in all sorts of flavors and I’m absolutely on board with whatever this is. Friendship? Cool. Maybe there will come a time where some would tack on a “with benefits”? Lovely. I also am currently not interested in labeling anything, mainly because I’m not interested in thinking too hard (aka fretting, analyzing, obsessing, hypochondriaching, etc) about what I’m doing. (Also, you’re married. I’m going to keep pointing this out, although I may have figured out why that is. Probably it’s a version of my re double checking YOUR consent in … continuing to engage with me and whatever this is. As in subtext: “you-understand-that I’m-not-your-wife-and-this-is-flirting-that-we’re-doing-here-you’re-absolutely-sure-that-this-is-how-you-want-to-be-interacting-with-me?” Note: There is a story here. It is too long to insert here. Absolutely appropriate for a nice long cuddle session with tea and banana bread. // Also, it’s also why I keep pointing out that I’m bugging out about this open marriage thing. But I’m really groovy. I promise. Just sometimes also neurotic. Welcome to the deluge.)
Checking in with myself? Sure. Keeping a finger on the pulse of what I want and why I want it? Absolutely. Labeling things with names that I have prior association, connotation, and judgement in? No thanks. I am attempting to take a leave of absence from my position as my own harshest critic and just like myself and feel good about what I have and what I have to offer. Revolutionary, right? Haha. It’s definitely a work in progress. So thanks for being a part of my journey! 🙂 “

In Having To Explain To Them…

… I am coming to understand me, too. 

“Well! The fact of the matter is that I don’t know if I am looking to do much of anything beyond “date” a whole bunch of people right now. I’ve gone on a slew of OkC happenings and a triumphant few have stayed on as friends, but many have fallen throughout the quest. So many of them said they were groovy after my “blah blah not looking for relationship blah blah no strings attached” speech and then third date rolls around, we sex, he goes nuts and won’t stop calling me. I’m like, how did I possibly find all of the hopeless romantics? Stop this. I’m looking for adventure and belt notching and communication and kink and lots and lots of stories and lessons from interesting sexy amazing humans. Plus, oh yeah, I’m trying to be an artist, whatever the fuck that looks like. So I don’t have time for you crazies who want to see me for a third time this week.
…Is that bad? I’m inclined not to think so, because I know I gave the speech. I got the no strings consent. So that’s been crummy to have to dismiss some budding hearts. I am just not looking for that kind of commitment or intimacy — I just removed myself from a Two Year That. This is my reclamation of self. I am a Whole Self, whereas I’ve been Half a Unit for a long time.”

He asks: 
1. What attracts you to dominating a submissive man?
2. Describe to me one of your most memorable, or favorite experiences as a domme (looking forward to this one)
3. If an experience with you was a prescription medication, what would the warning label say?

I respond:
“1. I am a bossy pants. I like knowing what’s going on and where things are going. I know what I like and I am pretty intuitive as to what other people like and I like making other people feel good because that makes me feel good. There is nothing sexier to me than being with someone who wants me so much that they will do what I tell them to, either to themselves or to me, and let me do what I want to them or me. I’m totally power hungry, and totally turned on right now just thinking about it.

2. Tying him, stark naked and spread eagled, on the bed – an arm or leg assigned to each corner. Blindfolding him. Teasing. Pleasuring. Denying. Indulging.

3. WARNING: May experience sudden mood swings, general spaciness, ‘mixed signals’, cynicism, and some emotional baggage that mostly stays checked. Feel free to consume with alcohol and/or marijuana, on occasion. Loyalty, honesty, and earnestness guaranteed.”


Ideal Domme, in the Form of a Haiku

Elastic vixen
Delights in torturing you
Because you want it

“Someone is Waiting…”

I didn’t go to FetLife to fall in love, but what do you do when someone posts:

“Ideally, I’d like to meet someone to explore new sights, new sounds, and tastes with me. Someone that’s as ambitious as I am and enthusiastically supports me in my endeavors. Someone that’s curious about the world and likes to keep up with what’s going on in it. Someone that thinks that staying in to cook dinner together and eating it with a bottle of wine makes a really good Friday night. Someone who will be silly with me. Someone that will take care of me while I’m sick (and vice versa). Someone that loves me despite my flaws. Who is close with her family and one day might want one of her own.”


This is everything that I want. Now be as beautiful as you sound, please, and love me.

“…Did I know her? Have I waited too long?
Maybe so, but maybe so has she.”

The Cast of Disposables

Today I would like to write a post that’s been on my mind for a while, and that is the Notch List, or as I mostly like to look at it, The Cast of Disposables.

1. PM. We hear plenty about him, so I’ll move on.

2. Let’s call him Arjun. Ethnic, no last name, one night stand, arrived at my house drunk as a skunk, grunted and pumped, we slept, we woke, we never spoke again.

3. Let’s call him SB, or Soul Brother. Effeminate but certain in himself, equally heartbroken, fluently musical, a future affair of the creative will be had, hopefully many times over. The sex was inevitable and fine for what it was. He is not what I seek, physically or emotionally. The latter is because he is just like me.

4. Let’s call this one Mr Dopey Hopey. This one is complicated bc, like SB, I already adore him as a new friend even though I found him in OkC conquest fashion. He is goofy, husky, grinny, good at what he does, friendly, and I think I might want to consider dating him when I’m not the lunatic I currently am. Afterwards, he was the one who said, ‘I mean, that was great but maybe it happened too soon? I’d sort of like to look at a relationship in the future or maybe consider it but I think we should refrain for now.’ Yup. Affirmative.

5. This next one is complicated. Let’s call him Jack Black Attack. (Not to be confused with Jack Black Doppelwhack who is my boss and I have a giant crush on. And have not slept with yet.) — he was our guest for pre Sandra Frankenstorm and with a voice like Zeus who sings like Jack Black Tenacious D style and he smokes every 20 min from his to go ‘cig’. A hardcore party boy even though he’s the oldest of the lot as of yet (28) … I thought he’d at least be around for a bit longer. Even if we didn’t have sex. Which was a little too sweaty and mechanical for me. Sweaty is good, but not if you are so ensconced in your rhythm that you let it drip from your temples onto my cheekbones without notice or comment. But he has recently bound a biddy, so I wish him the best even as it is sad to no longer have a local smoke and snuggle buddy.

I’m only halfway through and I’m so depressed. Honestly, this first half was the winners, then we had a lapse of ‘whatever, what’s a few more fucks’ and then some ones that I really did put hope into and then was crushed by reality.

6. Lipshitz will be his name. We had some awkward bar conversation and then went and mediocrely boned at his apt nearby and then I left.

7. Bellboy I should call again. A nice Jewish boy with a hearty jaw and general set of teeth (is it overbite? Underbite? Unknown. Uncared.) — not a bad lay, not a bad conversationalist. The problem has been my succumbing to his requests every time to smoke up and then all parties being stupidly high even though I might have preferred sobriety had I had a spine or brain at the time. Then he came over on a day that my mind was ashambles and I had to kick him out with little warning and that was that. Also he has the same name as my brother which makes my skin tingle, not in a good way.

8. Oh God, and then we get into awkward nose crinkling world. Beezer. Which I have thusly called him since we were 15. Obligatory poor life drunk choice boning. We laughed about it beforehand, told no one, and have not spoken one word about it after. And that’s just fine with me.

9. Then we have Ma, whose given name is the same as my grandmother’s nickname, so color me freakishly Freudian. Tall, foreign, scientifically oriented, employed, and owner to the ugliest dog I’ve ever seen (a true blue greyhound, so it doesn’t take much). The problem is his lack of social life (like, beyond what I would have offered there is NOTHING but the dog) and his lack of comprehending that when I said let’s NOT DATE that meant we don’t see each other every other day. I have been giving him the silent treatment wrapped in flirty flakiness whenever he crankily tries to insert himself back into my life and pants.

10. The next in the recent streak of Mistake Brigade, Buddha is the hottest of the messes. Enamored with me from minute 8 or so of our first work shift together, the small stocky man mustered up the courage to ask the statuesque single lady for a drink which she cheerily obliged to. First mistake, bc apparently that suggested more interest in him romantically than I had thought saying ‘Yeah, okay, let’s drink alcohol at the same time while talking’ implies. Possessive, crippling insecure, blindly chauvinistic, marijuana and medication dependent, and annoying, I realized after he became my resident leach that I can’t sustain the energy for my own Self Improvement Protocol, much less his much more daunting situation. The question then arises whether to grace him with a little time and friendship or to let it unravel as it will and as I fear he might.

11. And that brings us to The Situation, Mr Jersey film editor who literally couldn’t fathom that a woman might desire an orgasm as well. Good riddance.

You can understand my dismay and discouragement at this conquest list. So I’ve been rather liberal with my bodily distribution, but I guess I would have thought my discretion was a little less disastrous than this. What to do? Is it better to be horny and and alone than potentially overwhelmingly disappointed/disgusted/depressed? Probably. Solo pining just reminds me of what I let go though. And while PM still entertains interest in all things cyber sexy, he’s plenty busy boning whatever he can find in the Midwest and entertaining a creative sleep schedule. Extraction, Ray.

Is what I’m asking for too complicated? Too picky? Too needy? Too risky? FetLife titilates my inner chaste virgin but also rings out warning self protection bells, which I think are also important to hear. So far, mere emails. Maybe NYC’s BDSM community will prove more satisfactory. I’m hoping so. The combination of communication and kink suggests to me a world of sex positivity. Please let me be right.

Lend Me A Chisel

POLL: Please give me the best playwriting prompt you 
(a) have ever received; 
(b) can think of off the top of your head; 
or (c) both and any in between. 

Thank you kindly.


There are a lot of things
I want to be when I grow up
but if you ask me
how I wish
to be remembered?

‘A poet;
she sang of beauty.’

my heart won’t go on

my heart won’t go on

i must not have been listening
when they said it was so hard
except that from the beginning
i’ve let down my guard

to each i open my entire heart
brimming full of love potential
but i’ve been wondering from the start
if it’s because you’ve been too influential

who said you could still hold on so tight
when i am not the one that you hold at night
it wouldn’t matter much if at least you’d admit
you love me most rather than trying to forget (‘forgit’)
how much you adore me and how much i’m right




Sexy Sleepover PSYCHE.

Wow. Well, that was awful. Remember X[]M date? Well, he’s a fail. In short, the moment I suggested or tried anything that was for me, so that I could “have a turn” he checked out. As in, he came, I said, “Hey you can take that off and maybe I can have a turn?” and he takes the condom off, goes and sits on the couch in the hotel room, and turns on the television. I — WHAT?? I am LYING ON THE BED, NAKED, FUCKING HOT and READY TO GO, and you … are going to watch Japanese fashion television. Cue Ray making up a stupid excuse of I have to feed my cats. And GOODBYE.

I will not be calling you after Baby Jesus Day. Because in addition to this INCREDIBLE faux pas, you are boring and bad at conversation and I can’t deal with someone who doesn’t listen to anything I have to say during sexy time. Get the fuck out of my face. It’s about everyone’s pleasure.

Is that what feminism is? Is that what sex positivity is? To feel good and sexy and naked and pleasured at giving and receiving pleasure? 
I guess so, but Lord I didn’t know it was so hard to find. I’m getting a little discouraged, folks. Notching is not all it’s cracked up to be if the sex is bad and the people are lame. Maybe I need to be more discretionary when choosing conquests, but I could have sworn that I was being open and hopeful and kind and considerate and clear and yet these things still happen. Of course, no one is going to be PM but at least someone could be attractive, fit, intelligent, and good at sex? I’m not looking for a life partner but I am looking for someone who is INTERESTED IN HELPING ME CUM for god’s sake. 

This, I think, is where FetLife comes in. Where I say, “Alright asshats. I’m in charge. I’m hot, you’re hot — especially when drooling all over me and how hot I am. And now you get to watch me touch myself and you can’t do anything about it but become more and more desperate until I finally thrust my voluptuous breasts into your mouth and you suck as hard as you can as my nipples become firm against your tongue and I teasingly drag my fingertips along the tip of your cock. 
THIS IS SEX POSITIVITY. WHERE IS THIS. I WANT THIS. Or at least someone who asks me if I’m enjoying it. Rather than, “You can make noise, you know.” 1, buddy, I’m quiet. 2, believe me, I’ll make noise if there’s reason to. But … sorry. No go for you.

PM, I miss you. I miss your lips I miss your skin I miss your fingers I miss your cock I miss your earlobes I miss your knees I miss your heart but most of all I miss your eyes and how when we locked gazes during sex, no fire, hell or high water was going to stop us from helping each other along to the very top when we could both release together in one glorious fell swoop. You know how people say that ‘real people don’t have simultaneous orgasms; that’s only in movies’? WELL I AM HERE TO TELL YOU THAT THAT IS WRONG. The first time it happened, we high fived and were like, “Yeah, THAT was awesome and I’ll bet that was the best it’s ever gonna be. Go us!” … and then it kept happening for 18 more months. So, skeptics, it’s possible. Which why I know I can keep looking for all the other things that you think are impossible, because somewhere they will be real. I don’t know where, I don’t know how, but I will find them. 

In the meantime, I grow weary on this journey. I wish there were just someone who would hold me while we sit quietly together, just being. I’m so tired of having to Be On for these people. Perkily checking in, making sure they’re having a good time. No one fucking cares if I am, though. All I want is for us to just be, and of course we’re having a good time, because just to be with you is what I want. Adventure? Okay! Stay in? Okay! Walk? Sit? Stay? Lie down? Roll around? I’ll do anything as long as one thing is certain: that I want to be with you. Then the world cannot offer me a path I do not wish to try, with you. 

What I Want Even Not I Know

Let it be known that PM is once again a free agent. Little did we know that all those tumultuous feelings would be felt and then shed so shortly after. And so what did we do? We had cyber sex. Twice. Am I full of poor life choices? You bet I am. Do I feel great? You bet I do. Not only did I cum twice, but we were kind and flirty and teasing and then I worked out and felt great about myself.

Yeah, I’m still in love with him. And I’m a little worried if simply bc there is a young man who has invited me to the X[]M (a shwanky hotel indeed, paid for by his company) this Monday night for ‘Netflix, Candlelight, whipped cream, and a steamy bath.’ Those are his words, verbatim. To which I balked and said you are seducing me, sir. And he didn’t deny it. Did I mention this man is an artistic, positive, well hung, less hairy version of PM? I’ve been typed and I’m living it out well. But as long as I’m clear, I’m in the clear right?

I’ve joined fetlife. My mother fears for my future life of sin on the burlesque stage, when really her concern should be the actual naked pictures of myself on the Internet. Not like she’ll ever know. *fingers crossed*

I was reviewing my belt notches earlier today. Two months ago, I had one. Now I have eleven. That’s pretty good. But what I realized in the notching was that of course I’m good at sex. I was good with only one notch. I was good before that notch and then when it happened that hunch was affirmed. So go me and now I get to do it where it feels good and you had better believe having his newly shorn virtual face grinning at me with glee as I lollygag about on my bed, trim and toned and naked as a jay bird, nothing he hasn’t seen before, but certainly what he wants to be holding… That feels good.

The problem is I’ve never stopped wanting him. The problem is I don’t only want him. The problem will be solved either when I get him the way I want him or when I do not want him anymore. Until then, I will take what I can have of him and of everyone else until I am able to figure out what, of what I have, is what I want.