I would love to believe that my relationships are more complicated than other peoples'. I mean, I'm different...not like other girls. Then again, doesn't everyone think that they're different and special? The truth is, people really are special unique little snowflakes and all relationships really are complicated and bizarre. Most of the time they're a lot of fun, too. People are endlessly fascinating. What's complicated, I think, is that people (and by "people" I really just mean me...although I suspect I'm not as unique as I think)have an ideal. So there's this idea in my head of what would constitute a perfect relationship. It doesn't even matter if the ideal is not that demanding. It's still specific. No one can be the thing in my head. Not exactly. That's what makes things complicated. There's always that...well, "that's not exactly what I had in mind" moment, and you have to decide if the alteration from the ideal is acceptable or not. Are you compromising something important, or just learning about this interesting new person who might even be better than what you'd imagined. I'm not sure the D/s dynamic particularly changes that relationship dynamic in any significant way. I often notice sub-types expecting me to match their preconceived ideal. In fact, it seems to be a recurring theme. Chances are, though, that dom-types do the same thing. There's some pretense of the ability to train and mold a willing sub, but a human is a human and attraction is attraction and it's hard to train away a lifetime of reacting to life in a certain way. So we're always left with the same thing: two people, with all their unique specialisms, just feeling each other out to see if they're compatible. It's complicated...and ridiculously fun.

Hello little blog. I'm trying you on again, just to see how you feel. You're a bit dusty, and you don't fit quite right. Still, you're mine. I think I'll give you another try.

Mowing the Lawn

I mowed the lawn. I didn’t know how to do it. I didn’t know I needed to buy a gas container which you have to transport to the gas station to fill. I didn’t know it needed oil too. I didn’t know you shouldn’t fill the oil tank to the top. I didn’t know the plumes of smoke were because of too much oil. I didn’t know the deep wet grass would cause the thing to sputter to a stop. I didn’t know tipping the mower on it’s side to clean out the wet grass would cause more oil to leak out onto the ground. I didn’t know I’d burn my fingers flipping it right side up again. I didn’t know the willow branches hiding in that same deep grass would catch in the blade. I didn’t expect them to break and shoot out to gouge my legs. I didn’t know my yard had so many ruts. I didn’t know my palms would be bruised. Now I know all of that and my grass is shorter. I smell of grass and oil. I am bruised and burned and gouged and tired, but I am triumphant. Next time will be easier. Next time I will feel less foolish. Next time a random man passing in a pick-up truck won’t have to yell out the windows, “you have to dump out some oil.” I am grateful to that man, because I really had no idea why the thing was smoking so much. I’m also rather annoyed. Why didn’t I already know how to use a lawn mower? I am sneaking up on 30 years old. I am not some city girl who’s never met an expansive front lawn. Why did no one ever think to teach me? Why did I never think to ask? I could blame it on the fact that, where I grew up, everyone used tractors or riding mowers. I remember asking if I could ride the mower when I was a kid. I wasn’t heavy enough to make it turn on. Apparently there’s a safety mechanism that will only allow the engine to run when there’s someone weighing down the seat. Okay, I was too young then, but I never asked again? No, I didn’t. I don’t recall ever seeing a woman mow the lawn. Is that why I never thought to learn? And I fancy myself a feminist! How many other activities am I missing out on because it never occurred to me to try them?


~Addendum: Willow branches make excellent switches.

Retrospective analysis

Or, Why I was not satisfied with my most recent relationship:



There’s a way for a woman to “dominate” a partnership that is pretty common in vanilla (and kinky?) relationships. It’s called the keep-him-wanting-more method. It’s coy, it’s “feminine” and it’s bullshit. “I want to talk to him, but I called last time so I’ll wait ‘til he calls me this time.” You mention in an oh-so-aloof manor that you’ll be out with friends but you’ll try to give him a text if you get a chance. You appear busy, you make him grateful that you can spare a few minutes for him. You make sure he knows that you’re in charge of the relationship because clearly you could up and leave at any time. I know how to be that untouchable female. I’ve done it. Then I grew up. I realized that I want to dominate a relationship in a more substantial way. I have no desire or need to play those kinds of games. I want something deeper.
Here’s the thing. I’m asking for your submission. That’s more than just words. That’s a big deal. That’s you trusting me with yourself. That’s the most substantial gift you can give. I am asking you to trust me in a way that is deeper than what most people have in a vanilla relationship. To ask that of someone, I’m going to be trustworthy. I’d be a major bitch if I wasn’t. What that means is: I‘m going to spend a great deal of time and energy focused on you. How else can I really know you? I need to know your likes and dislikes and wants and needs. I need to be able to interpret your words and actions and understand the things you can’t put into words. I need to understand how you’re feeling even when you can’t tell me. I’m going to need you to take the time and energy necessary to show yourself to me, in every way that I ask. While you’re doing that I also expect you to try to learn me. Hardly seems fair to ask so much of you, does it? (well, that’s my brand of D/s, take or leave it.)
So I don’t have time for, “oh I’ll wait ‘til he calls me.” When I want you, I’ll come looking for you. That’s going to be often. That SHOULD be often. If a woman isn’t paying a lot of attention to you, do you really want to trust her with the gift of yourself? Some people have this idea of the aloof and indifferent domme. She rarely takes the time to acknowledge your presence and you’re expected to grovel at her feet and be grateful for every morsel of attention she deigns to throw your way. Okay, I admit, that’s kind of a hot fantasy, but it doesn’t make sense to me in the context of a real relationship. At any rate, it’s not what I want or expect in a real relationship.
I expect a lot. I will give you a lot. You should strive to give me more. That’s the game I play. It’s intense. It’s supposed to be. Can you handle it?

Just want to say it...

I’m not sure you check this e-mail. Maybe that’s good. I’m not sure I want you to see this. Maybe I won’t send it. I don’t know. I just want to write it…hoping that writing it makes it hurt less.

Yes, I’m hurting. Right now, in this moment, I don’t feel strong or mature or resigned or any of those things. I love you so much. I want you back. You are this beautiful perfect boy and for a minute, you wanted to be mine. We were connected. You told me I was wonderful and beautiful and you loved me and it felt so good. I want it back. You made me feel happy and confident and strong. Not at the end, but at first you did. It’s been a long time since someone has made me feel like that. I don’t actually remember anyone making me feel like that. I want it back. I want you back. Not just because of the way you made me feel, but because you’re you. I love you, exactly as you are. I don’t even think I can say I’ve loved anyone like that before. There were always conditions. Not with you. You were just mine. For a minute…I was so happy.

Soothing Rhythmic Background Noise

I just spent an hour and a half reading with the phone to my ear, listening to boy spank himself. At first I thought this was ridiculous, but eventually I relaxed into it and really enjoyed the soothing rhythmic background noise, occasionally punctuated by sharp intakes of breath and little groans. It turns out a hair brush is most easily heard via my cell phone, and it left his bottom nice and rosy red for the pic he sent me afterward. It's unfortunate that I wasn't able to administer the spanking myself. I'm sure I would have done it a bit harder than he did, but the whole experience was a great deal more enjoyable than I'd expected. A terrific little blooper happened near the end, though. I was having him give himself some rapid fire swats with the spatula for 30 second intervals and I would tell him when time was up. The phone really did cut out about 15 seconds in! I did not hang up deliberately, weather he believes me or not! Apparently he went on for a solid 2 minutes before I called back. I can't stop giggling about it, which is probably why he doesn't believe me that it was an accident!

My Friend Died Today

My friend died today. I feel terrible about this. I hate that she died at only 29. I hate that she was sick and in pain for two years before it happened. I have tried to be supportive for the other friends she left behind, but right now, in this space, I am going to be selfish. I am going to indulge in thoughts of how this makes ME feel.
She was in my class. She was my age. She was reaching for the same career I am. I often think about how I’m putting my life on hold for my career goals. I hate that feeling, and things like this remind me why I hate it so much. My life is happening now and I’m missing it and it could end at any minute and what will I have accomplished? There are so many things that I want to do that I don’t because I’m so focused on this goal to the exclusion of all else. There are myriad silly things that I choose not to do. There are larger things…relationships and life experiences…that I say, “that’ll just have to wait.” Now my friend is dead and there are so many things she didn’t do. She was going to travel the world and bring healthcare to the people who need it most. She was going to get married and have a family. Lot’s of other things, but those are some I remember her talking about. She didn’t get to do those things and I’m not doing my “things” either. She also never had sex. She was waiting until marriage because that’s what her church and her family taught her to do. I am angry at her church for causing her to miss that experience. It’s only one small thing in a lifetime of experiences that she didn’t get to do, but it’s one that bugs me a lot because I feel like it’s one that she actually COULD have had if religion hadn’t gotten in her way. Sexual pleasure of any kind is off limits until you are ready to procreate. That’s such bullshit.
I hate religion for countless reasons, not the least of which is the fact that my friend never got the chance to explore her own sexuality, but here’s the thing…her faith was so strong that she didn’t fear death. She was comforted and serene in the knowledge that she would go to heaven. I’m grateful that she had that. I’m grateful that her family has the comfort of “knowing” they’ll see their child again. Now, back to the selfish stuff…
I am grieving, not for the loss of my friend, but for the loss of my own faith. When she died I got a message saying, “she’s in heaven now.” I stared at those words for a long time and all I kept thinking was, “I don’t believe that’s true.” I stopped believing in God a long time ago, I think, but I still have a really hard time acknowledging that fact. Look, I can’t even type the word with a lower case “g.” God…God…god…there. I did it.
There’s a child inside me who is really terrified right now. That child spent years learning that to not believe in god meant that she would go to hell. That’s a scary place, and it’s forever. That child is still inside me. She still knows all the prayers. She still feels guilty when she sins. She knows what sins are, she learned them by heart. That child is frightened and angry at the loss of her safety net. Faith is so comforting, and I’ve taken it away from the little girl inside me. I lost my faith a long time ago, but today I said it out loud, and the little girl inside heard me. I said the rosary today. The words came to my lips without thought. You don’t lose some things, even if you don’t realize they’re still there, and the words spilled out. I said the rosary for my friend who is dead and for the child inside me who lost her faith. I said it as a farewell.