Of all of the people I know, only Hal has the knack of showing up in my dreams.
Let me back that up. I dream a lot. My pagan side, and pagan contingent of friends, could expound on the reasons for that for basically ever, and that's cool. But basically, I dream a lot. I also tend to remember my dreams, and I try to make an effort to write them down.
References to people I know happen all of the time. Like, having my grandmother's necklace, or being at my parent's house, or their church, or whatever. But people I know? Don't often show up. I don't recall ever dreaming about Jay, or about my grandmother, or about my father. My mom will show up sometimes, but other than that, that's it.
That's not to say there aren't people in my dreams. They are, I just don't know them "in real life", if that makes sense. They're people in the dream, and in the dream, I know them well, but they don't correspond to someone I know in the corporeal world.
Hal, on the other hand, shows up all the damn time.
He shows up in all kinds of dreams - happy ones, neutral ones, nightmares. He was being stalked by a serial killer in one; that was a good time. We were in a burning building, in another. And he's taken me for rides on his motorcycle, been at parties with me, and more.
As for why he continually shows up, I haven't a clue. Perhaps its my brain filling in information that I don't yet know about him? Wishful thinking? Not really sure.
Conversely, Joseph reports that he dreams about ME all the time. And Jay? Jay never remembers his dreams.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Well that's nice
Somehow it always seems like there's so many things that are higher on the priority list or in the way of sex and sex-time around here.
For example! I have turned down sex because I really, really needed to go grocery shopping. Yes right that very minute.
I mean, yeah, we needed food, but it's not like it couldn't have been rescheduled until the next day. We weren't going to starve overnight.
The hell of it is, it always seems like such a good idea at the time, to put off sex. Like, yeah, let me just do this one thing and then I'll come back and we'll pick up where we left off. I need to get some responsible adult on.
We never. EVER. pick up where we left off.
How can we? We're not in the same space and place anymore. I've gone off and distracted myself and Jay and done something else and there's no getting it back.
I fear that if I give in to sex whenever I want it, I will never, ever get anything under the "responsible adult" category done, such as grocery shopping, laundry, or cleaning. And one thing I've learned about myself over the years is that I need to get a minimum level of responsible adult stuff done in order to feel like a functional, healthy human being. (I am fully aware that this is my hang-up, and don't expect it to be anyone else's). Like, if there's not enough food in the house, I freak. out.. I have noticed a distinct correlation between my mental state and the amount of clutter in the house, or dishes, etc.
To be honest, this is really just scratching the surface of why my sex life has been, well, fairly non-existent lately. There was the emergency house re-wiring that took two weeks and tore everything up (including our playroom, and I haven't had the spoons to go up there and clean yet), there's the fact that my job has me burnt the hell out and therefore I could probably go to a psychiatrist and walk out with a Major Depression diagnosis (if not anything else - but again, my hang-ups about getting diagnosed are my own), the fact that we've just been busy. There was not a single night last week where we were home for dinner. Not a single one in seven days. For my introverted ass, that is a LOT. And it cuts down on sex times! There's the fact that ever since my last period, any sort of breast bondage or torture is extremely, exquisitely painful for me, and not in the good way.
The obvious answer is "well then reprioritize", and I'm not sure I want to. I mean, I want to, but, effort, you know? And a lot of what we've been doing I like that we're doing. And overcoming inertia is very, very difficult (physics ftw!)
Just... yeah.
For example! I have turned down sex because I really, really needed to go grocery shopping. Yes right that very minute.
I mean, yeah, we needed food, but it's not like it couldn't have been rescheduled until the next day. We weren't going to starve overnight.
The hell of it is, it always seems like such a good idea at the time, to put off sex. Like, yeah, let me just do this one thing and then I'll come back and we'll pick up where we left off. I need to get some responsible adult on.
We never. EVER. pick up where we left off.
How can we? We're not in the same space and place anymore. I've gone off and distracted myself and Jay and done something else and there's no getting it back.
I fear that if I give in to sex whenever I want it, I will never, ever get anything under the "responsible adult" category done, such as grocery shopping, laundry, or cleaning. And one thing I've learned about myself over the years is that I need to get a minimum level of responsible adult stuff done in order to feel like a functional, healthy human being. (I am fully aware that this is my hang-up, and don't expect it to be anyone else's). Like, if there's not enough food in the house, I freak. out.. I have noticed a distinct correlation between my mental state and the amount of clutter in the house, or dishes, etc.
To be honest, this is really just scratching the surface of why my sex life has been, well, fairly non-existent lately. There was the emergency house re-wiring that took two weeks and tore everything up (including our playroom, and I haven't had the spoons to go up there and clean yet), there's the fact that my job has me burnt the hell out and therefore I could probably go to a psychiatrist and walk out with a Major Depression diagnosis (if not anything else - but again, my hang-ups about getting diagnosed are my own), the fact that we've just been busy. There was not a single night last week where we were home for dinner. Not a single one in seven days. For my introverted ass, that is a LOT. And it cuts down on sex times! There's the fact that ever since my last period, any sort of breast bondage or torture is extremely, exquisitely painful for me, and not in the good way.
The obvious answer is "well then reprioritize", and I'm not sure I want to. I mean, I want to, but, effort, you know? And a lot of what we've been doing I like that we're doing. And overcoming inertia is very, very difficult (physics ftw!)
Just... yeah.
Sunday, February 06, 2011
Accomplishments
Well, we did finally get the bench be-hooked - hopefully we'll be trying that out this week.
In addition, we bought some supplies for a wooden pony, because I've wanted one of those for like, oh, six years or something now. I found these delightful metal brackets for making easy sawhorses at Home Depot (how much do I love that store? A lot.) a while ago, and picked them up as I thought they'd make a good basis for a pony. We finally went tonight and got wood for the legs, sandpaper, varnish, etc., to finish the rest of it. For the top I got a piece of really nice "premium" pine that already has a rounded edge. It's just a matter of sanding it a bit more, putting the varnish on, and then putting it together. We'll probably have to make some height adjustments too, but that's what power tools are for. That should hopefully be done this week as well.
Also acquired is a Twitter account for me. Apparently all the cool kids are doing it? Either way, you can find me here, or, you know, that button-thingy on the side there. Sometimes I have things to say, but not what I think is a whole blog entry, so I'm hoping to post on a regular basis there, even if I don't post long things here so much.
In addition, we bought some supplies for a wooden pony, because I've wanted one of those for like, oh, six years or something now. I found these delightful metal brackets for making easy sawhorses at Home Depot (how much do I love that store? A lot.) a while ago, and picked them up as I thought they'd make a good basis for a pony. We finally went tonight and got wood for the legs, sandpaper, varnish, etc., to finish the rest of it. For the top I got a piece of really nice "premium" pine that already has a rounded edge. It's just a matter of sanding it a bit more, putting the varnish on, and then putting it together. We'll probably have to make some height adjustments too, but that's what power tools are for. That should hopefully be done this week as well.
Also acquired is a Twitter account for me. Apparently all the cool kids are doing it? Either way, you can find me here, or, you know, that button-thingy on the side there. Sometimes I have things to say, but not what I think is a whole blog entry, so I'm hoping to post on a regular basis there, even if I don't post long things here so much.
Saturday, February 05, 2011
Number 19 - someone who pesters your mind - good or bad
Oh Hal -
We, are going to get ourselves in to trouble.
Do I show up in your dreams, the way you show up in mine? Do you wake up with my name on your lips and the uncanny sensation that if you open your eyes, you'll see me in your bed, the way I think I'll see you in mine? When we touch, do you feel the same certain, unshakeable peace that I do? That unutterable sense of right-ness?
I remain firmly convinced that you and I have known each other before, boyo. You are so familiar to me, and have been from day one in this go-round. When we first met, I was obsessed with figuring out who you were to me before, and the longer I know you, the less important that is. I'm more interested in figuring out who you are now, in this life, for good or ill. Who and what you will be to me this time.
I wonder that no one else talks about it. What seems so obvious to me - does no one else see it? Am I imagining everything? Is this all some flight of my own fancy? I feel as if we are pushing the limits of acceptable behavior so far, and yet no one has commented on it to me. I have heard no gossip. There have been no negative consequences and I cannot imagine that what we are doing really wouldn't be subject to any. Am I really that wrong?
Do you know that the only other person who uses possessives in conjunction with my name is my husband?
Do you want me to be yours in more than words?
I know that the situation demands not only that we not be anything more to each other, but also that you not disclose any more than you already have. My intuition is telling me that you'd like very much to do and be more with me, but I like hearing the words. And no matter how often I am right, I doubt my own intuition very much. I doubt my read of the situation without independent verification.
Do you think of me? Do you reach out and wish you could touch me? Do you want to call me a thousand times a day just to share a thought, an observation, something you know I'll laugh at? Do you go home on the nights we work together, and smell just that hint of me on your clothes, on your skin, and does it make you smile? Do you wonder how I taste? Do you wonder what would happen if we kissed?
Do you fantasize about me? Do you wonder what it would be like to touch all of me? Do you wonder what it would feel like if I were touching all of you?
Do you wonder if I'm kinky, and how I'm kinky? Do you think about what I'd look like with a collar around my neck and the leash in your hands? What it would feel like to have me call you "Sir" and not just be kidding? What it would feel like to have my lips around your cock and my hands on your skin and to fist your hands in my hair and finally, finally take me? Do you wonder what kind of magic, what kind of fireworks we could make together?
I don't trust easily, and I trusted you from the moment we met. I don't often let others touch me, and I let you touch me from the moment we met. I know you, darling, I know you very well.
Do you know me?
Do you want to?
with love,
~Mme.
We, are going to get ourselves in to trouble.
Do I show up in your dreams, the way you show up in mine? Do you wake up with my name on your lips and the uncanny sensation that if you open your eyes, you'll see me in your bed, the way I think I'll see you in mine? When we touch, do you feel the same certain, unshakeable peace that I do? That unutterable sense of right-ness?
I remain firmly convinced that you and I have known each other before, boyo. You are so familiar to me, and have been from day one in this go-round. When we first met, I was obsessed with figuring out who you were to me before, and the longer I know you, the less important that is. I'm more interested in figuring out who you are now, in this life, for good or ill. Who and what you will be to me this time.
I wonder that no one else talks about it. What seems so obvious to me - does no one else see it? Am I imagining everything? Is this all some flight of my own fancy? I feel as if we are pushing the limits of acceptable behavior so far, and yet no one has commented on it to me. I have heard no gossip. There have been no negative consequences and I cannot imagine that what we are doing really wouldn't be subject to any. Am I really that wrong?
Do you know that the only other person who uses possessives in conjunction with my name is my husband?
Do you want me to be yours in more than words?
I know that the situation demands not only that we not be anything more to each other, but also that you not disclose any more than you already have. My intuition is telling me that you'd like very much to do and be more with me, but I like hearing the words. And no matter how often I am right, I doubt my own intuition very much. I doubt my read of the situation without independent verification.
Do you think of me? Do you reach out and wish you could touch me? Do you want to call me a thousand times a day just to share a thought, an observation, something you know I'll laugh at? Do you go home on the nights we work together, and smell just that hint of me on your clothes, on your skin, and does it make you smile? Do you wonder how I taste? Do you wonder what would happen if we kissed?
Do you fantasize about me? Do you wonder what it would be like to touch all of me? Do you wonder what it would feel like if I were touching all of you?
Do you wonder if I'm kinky, and how I'm kinky? Do you think about what I'd look like with a collar around my neck and the leash in your hands? What it would feel like to have me call you "Sir" and not just be kidding? What it would feel like to have my lips around your cock and my hands on your skin and to fist your hands in my hair and finally, finally take me? Do you wonder what kind of magic, what kind of fireworks we could make together?
I don't trust easily, and I trusted you from the moment we met. I don't often let others touch me, and I let you touch me from the moment we met. I know you, darling, I know you very well.
Do you know me?
Do you want to?
with love,
~Mme.
Monday, January 10, 2011
On echochambers
I will preface this by saying I'm composing it on my iPhone, so I will be editing for spelling, etc. later. And I apologize for any typographical errors that most assuredly will be found!
Anyway. One of the criticisms I see leveled by trolls against blogs that don't put up with their shit is "oh I see, you just want an echo chamber, not real debate", or similar.
Requiring you to stay on topic is not making an echo chamber.
Requiring you to meet minimum civility standards is not making an echo chamber.
Requiring that you read a stated commenting policy is not making an echo chamber.
Dismissing your cries of "but what about my 1st amendment rights!" is not making an echo chamber; a private blog is not the government.
Requiring you to back up your contradictory assertions with reputable sources is not making an echo chamber.
Requiring you to provide examples of your contradictory assertion on the scale of the evidence presented in the post or comment you are replying to is not making an echo chamber.
Requiring you to not be a douchebag, and banning you when you are, is not making an echo chamber.
I realize that I am somewhat preaching to the proverbial choir here, but if you are going to come in to my virtual living room, I get to set the rules on what he conversation looks like. Don't like the rules? Get your own blog.
And also? So what if a blog is an echo chamber? I mean, really, if that is your WINNING POINT to make the blogger change their mind, you are not going to be a big winner today, or any other day. If it is an echo chamber, it is probably that way by design. Get your own blog and run it how you want.
Anyway. One of the criticisms I see leveled by trolls against blogs that don't put up with their shit is "oh I see, you just want an echo chamber, not real debate", or similar.
Requiring you to stay on topic is not making an echo chamber.
Requiring you to meet minimum civility standards is not making an echo chamber.
Requiring that you read a stated commenting policy is not making an echo chamber.
Dismissing your cries of "but what about my 1st amendment rights!" is not making an echo chamber; a private blog is not the government.
Requiring you to back up your contradictory assertions with reputable sources is not making an echo chamber.
Requiring you to provide examples of your contradictory assertion on the scale of the evidence presented in the post or comment you are replying to is not making an echo chamber.
Requiring you to not be a douchebag, and banning you when you are, is not making an echo chamber.
I realize that I am somewhat preaching to the proverbial choir here, but if you are going to come in to my virtual living room, I get to set the rules on what he conversation looks like. Don't like the rules? Get your own blog.
And also? So what if a blog is an echo chamber? I mean, really, if that is your WINNING POINT to make the blogger change their mind, you are not going to be a big winner today, or any other day. If it is an echo chamber, it is probably that way by design. Get your own blog and run it how you want.
Sunday, January 02, 2011
The holidays, we spent in a blur of visiting family. His, and mine. His is more local to us, so that was just a drive; I have family all over the damn country, so there were multiple flights involved. I would like to register, for the record, that I do not like the TSA's tactics of either a groping or a nude-o-scope scan for "security". It doesn't do anything to make us demonstrably safer and violates my rights as an American citizen. Plus, the only people who have seen photographs of my naked flesh are Jay and Joseph and I'd like to keep it that way.
I know it's popular this time of year to make resolutions, but I've never been the type. On the Twitterscope is a New Year's "Revolution" that the Health at Every Size community there is getting going, which I can definitely support. I am all for radical acts of self-love and acceptance.
But I don't do resolutions. They've always felt... contrived to me, I suppose. And rather arbitrary. I mean, if they work for you, go right the hell for it, and good luck. But they don't work for me.
Still, it's hard to avoid reflecting at the turn of another calendar page, so a couple of the things I'd like to change for this coming month and year include:
I say "post more often" all the time, but yeah, I don't post regularly. I'm honestly not in the blogging game to rule the world, have a gazillion fans or followers or friends or whateverthehell - although I do appreciate each and every one of you! I'm not here to make money, either. I'm here because sometimes, I just really need an outlet for some of the thoughts in my head that aren't what are typically classified as "socially acceptable", and this space works pretty well. So thanks to you for joining me, on those irregular occasions, and Happy New Year to y'all.
I know it's popular this time of year to make resolutions, but I've never been the type. On the Twitterscope is a New Year's "Revolution" that the Health at Every Size community there is getting going, which I can definitely support. I am all for radical acts of self-love and acceptance.
But I don't do resolutions. They've always felt... contrived to me, I suppose. And rather arbitrary. I mean, if they work for you, go right the hell for it, and good luck. But they don't work for me.
Still, it's hard to avoid reflecting at the turn of another calendar page, so a couple of the things I'd like to change for this coming month and year include:
- Getting the hooks on the delicious bench we bought so that I can be both spanked AND restrained on/to it.
- Sorting through the toys and moving the better part of them to the designated play room (which IS painted, cleaned, and carpeted!)
- Getting over my hangups and posting more often. (The hangups, they are legion.)
I say "post more often" all the time, but yeah, I don't post regularly. I'm honestly not in the blogging game to rule the world, have a gazillion fans or followers or friends or whateverthehell - although I do appreciate each and every one of you! I'm not here to make money, either. I'm here because sometimes, I just really need an outlet for some of the thoughts in my head that aren't what are typically classified as "socially acceptable", and this space works pretty well. So thanks to you for joining me, on those irregular occasions, and Happy New Year to y'all.
Thursday, December 09, 2010
Oh, so the worst thing you will read all day.
Posted today on Shakesville was this, which is a link to an article about a "controversial" new book that postulates that feminism has ruined male-female relations and that women need to stop "acting like men" at home and give up on this whole "equal" thing because "men don't fall in love with equals."
If you've got enough sanity points, it's worth reading the article, if only because I cannot make this shit up, y'all.
Feminism does in fact tell women that we do not have to act demure, "sexually available", "complimentary", etc. and so on.
But feminism does not tell us that we MUST not act that way. The beauty of feminism is that we have the ability to be individual people, and decide what femininity means to us on our own terms - so far as any of us can have our own terms, growing up and living in the miasma of patriarchy.
Likewise, feminism does not proscribe narrow roles for men and say all men like THIS and think THIS and do THIS and are capable of THIS. Which is what the authors are saying. And yet, feminists are man-haters?
Additionally, you know, I am all for clear communication in relationships. Part of that is because I try to do it myself and I really like the results, part of it is because I think communicating respectfully with people is just part of being a decent person and I have this thing about not being an asshole. And it chaps my ass that these authors can advocate a healthy relationship skill like communication in the same mothafuckin BREATH as they advocate that women should tone their personalities and accomplishments down so they don't hurt the menz' precious fee-fees.
And while we're at it, could this book get any more hetero-normative? The entire QUILTBAG community, where are they in all this? Oh right, patriarchy tells us that only straight relationships matter. And only those where the woman is properly "sexually available" and "complimentary" (no, the misspelling is not mine).
Oh also, what about relationships that aren't dyads? Wait wait wait, those don't exist either; sorry my silly ladybrane forgot.
This is the same old WHAT ABOUT THE MENZ LADIES YOU BETTER STAY DEMURE ON THE GROUND WITH THAT BOOT ON YOUR NECK OR ELSE bullshit. And it is absolutely galling that they mixed in a little bit of actual relationship advice to, what, make it more palatable? Make it more mainstream? I don't even know.
Is it possible someone will read this and chime to the "communication" part and it'll change their lives for the better? Sure. But why should they have to swallow all of that other shit to get there?
If you've got enough sanity points, it's worth reading the article, if only because I cannot make this shit up, y'all.
Feminism does in fact tell women that we do not have to act demure, "sexually available", "complimentary", etc. and so on.
But feminism does not tell us that we MUST not act that way. The beauty of feminism is that we have the ability to be individual people, and decide what femininity means to us on our own terms - so far as any of us can have our own terms, growing up and living in the miasma of patriarchy.
Likewise, feminism does not proscribe narrow roles for men and say all men like THIS and think THIS and do THIS and are capable of THIS. Which is what the authors are saying. And yet, feminists are man-haters?
Additionally, you know, I am all for clear communication in relationships. Part of that is because I try to do it myself and I really like the results, part of it is because I think communicating respectfully with people is just part of being a decent person and I have this thing about not being an asshole. And it chaps my ass that these authors can advocate a healthy relationship skill like communication in the same mothafuckin BREATH as they advocate that women should tone their personalities and accomplishments down so they don't hurt the menz' precious fee-fees.
And while we're at it, could this book get any more hetero-normative? The entire QUILTBAG community, where are they in all this? Oh right, patriarchy tells us that only straight relationships matter. And only those where the woman is properly "sexually available" and "complimentary" (no, the misspelling is not mine).
Oh also, what about relationships that aren't dyads? Wait wait wait, those don't exist either; sorry my silly ladybrane forgot.
This is the same old WHAT ABOUT THE MENZ LADIES YOU BETTER STAY DEMURE ON THE GROUND WITH THAT BOOT ON YOUR NECK OR ELSE bullshit. And it is absolutely galling that they mixed in a little bit of actual relationship advice to, what, make it more palatable? Make it more mainstream? I don't even know.
Is it possible someone will read this and chime to the "communication" part and it'll change their lives for the better? Sure. But why should they have to swallow all of that other shit to get there?
Monday, November 08, 2010
Psychosomatic
Most of the time I'm fascinated by the interplay of physical and mental states.
Lately, I'm just annoyed.
Yes, I know body, I'm aware that mentally, I'm checked out, and don't want to be at my job right now. I assure you, the nausea and malaise are totally unnecessary. They are not helping the situation.
It is amazing, however, how quickly it can change. Like, within five minutes of leaving today, I will start feeling better. And I feel fine on the weekends.
I just feel like crap during the week.
Lately, I'm just annoyed.
Yes, I know body, I'm aware that mentally, I'm checked out, and don't want to be at my job right now. I assure you, the nausea and malaise are totally unnecessary. They are not helping the situation.
It is amazing, however, how quickly it can change. Like, within five minutes of leaving today, I will start feeling better. And I feel fine on the weekends.
I just feel like crap during the week.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Vacations, etc.
So what have I done in the past two months? Gone on vacation, and gone on another vacation, and booked plane tickets for yet another, and in between worked a lot.
I did go to the public kinky event I was freaking out about, and it was actually okay.
And then I worked some more.
I am still working with Hal, I am still talking with Joseph, and Jay and I finally finished the space we were working on converting in to a play room. I even bought a bench to put in there, now I just have to figure out where to put the hooks on it so that someone can be restrained on it easily.
And then I worked.
And now I do actually have to get my ass to work, but I did want to post on here - no I am not disappearing for good, I was just super-busy.
I did go to the public kinky event I was freaking out about, and it was actually okay.
And then I worked some more.
I am still working with Hal, I am still talking with Joseph, and Jay and I finally finished the space we were working on converting in to a play room. I even bought a bench to put in there, now I just have to figure out where to put the hooks on it so that someone can be restrained on it easily.
And then I worked.
And now I do actually have to get my ass to work, but I did want to post on here - no I am not disappearing for good, I was just super-busy.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Reasons why I can't believe anyone in their right mind considers me an adult
- 8 am meeting? Let's stay up until 3:30 reading trashy romance novels?
- Oreos? Why, those sound like a fine breakfast!
- Lunch? Wait, I'm supposed to eat again? Ugh. I'm hungry, yeah, but there's no fooooood right here.
- OH GOD I AM SO HUNGRY AND THEREFORE ANGRY RAAARRRRGHGHG SMASH
- heheheheheheh accidental dong heheheheheheh
- Wait, you mean I'm supposed to listen to the voice mail, and then call people back?
- "Clean all the things? :(" (FYI, I laugh EVERY TIME I READ THIS)
- Fuck, I should really bring a lunch with me to work. How about let's go to bed instead of packing one.
- DAMMIT IT'S 3 PM AND I'M AT WORK AND THERE'S NO FOOD AND I AM HUNGRY GODDAMN YOU ALL
- Spending six hours reading sex blogs, rather than do anything like, oh, laundry, cook, dishes, etc.? Hell yeah.
- Nachos? Totally an awesome dinner.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Number 7 - Your ex-
Frenzy -
I admit to having some mixed feelings about you. I admit to indulging in some serious schadenfreude when I found out that you were married and miserable. I admit that every once in a while, I miss you.
You were the first one to teach me that yes, people found me attractive. That in and of itself makes our probably-doomed-from-the-start relationship worth it. You liked me. You wanted to kiss me. And no one had ever been in my life like that before.
I didn't quite know what to do with that at the time.
Looking back, I can see the seeds of the person I am today in the person I was then, and know, with no sadness, that we wouldn't have been happy together for any significant length of time. Our paths are for different destinations, even though we were beside each other for a while. And having realized that, I can't be mad at you for not being able to give me what I needed. It's not who you are, and there isn't anything wrong with that.
So, my memories of you are largely fond, and I can only hope you think of me the same way.
And wherever your path leads you, may the walk be good.
~s.
I admit to having some mixed feelings about you. I admit to indulging in some serious schadenfreude when I found out that you were married and miserable. I admit that every once in a while, I miss you.
You were the first one to teach me that yes, people found me attractive. That in and of itself makes our probably-doomed-from-the-start relationship worth it. You liked me. You wanted to kiss me. And no one had ever been in my life like that before.
I didn't quite know what to do with that at the time.
Looking back, I can see the seeds of the person I am today in the person I was then, and know, with no sadness, that we wouldn't have been happy together for any significant length of time. Our paths are for different destinations, even though we were beside each other for a while. And having realized that, I can't be mad at you for not being able to give me what I needed. It's not who you are, and there isn't anything wrong with that.
So, my memories of you are largely fond, and I can only hope you think of me the same way.
And wherever your path leads you, may the walk be good.
~s.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Well fuck me.
I've discovered that there is certain music that I really, really shouldn't listen to at work.
Backing up a moment. As a coping skill, I frequently have my iPod going at work, with my headphones on. It provides a layer of isolation from the environment that I really, desperately need right now. I am so not capable of dealing with hearing people's conversations and being aware of when people are walking past and etc. and so on. So it helps keep my stress level down, as well as helps me concentrate on work.
Problem is, there are certain songs that really, really get me thinking about things I probably shouldn't at work. See, I'm a dancer, and dancing? Dancing is just socially acceptable public foreplay. Really good dancing is dirty. And I can do hell of dirty dancing.
So, there's a lot of music I have specifically because it's very danceable, and lately, when I hear certain of the songs, good goddamn, my brain is treating me to all sorts of very, very dirty dancing scenarios, usually either with Hal or Jay. And it frequently evolves from dancing - again, see also foreplay - to very explicitly sexual situations.
Apparently my brain thinks I need to make use of a very specific chair in my house. For sexual purposes.
And apparently my brain thinks that I'm not having enough sex (actually, I agree with it on that).
You know, which is all well and good, except for the whole part where one, I don't have an office with a door, and two, I'm supposed to be, you know, working. One of these days I'm going to have the wrong look on my face when the wrong fucking person walks by and that is just going to be a bad scene, y'all.
Backing up a moment. As a coping skill, I frequently have my iPod going at work, with my headphones on. It provides a layer of isolation from the environment that I really, desperately need right now. I am so not capable of dealing with hearing people's conversations and being aware of when people are walking past and etc. and so on. So it helps keep my stress level down, as well as helps me concentrate on work.
Problem is, there are certain songs that really, really get me thinking about things I probably shouldn't at work. See, I'm a dancer, and dancing? Dancing is just socially acceptable public foreplay. Really good dancing is dirty. And I can do hell of dirty dancing.
So, there's a lot of music I have specifically because it's very danceable, and lately, when I hear certain of the songs, good goddamn, my brain is treating me to all sorts of very, very dirty dancing scenarios, usually either with Hal or Jay. And it frequently evolves from dancing - again, see also foreplay - to very explicitly sexual situations.
Apparently my brain thinks I need to make use of a very specific chair in my house. For sexual purposes.
And apparently my brain thinks that I'm not having enough sex (actually, I agree with it on that).
You know, which is all well and good, except for the whole part where one, I don't have an office with a door, and two, I'm supposed to be, you know, working. One of these days I'm going to have the wrong look on my face when the wrong fucking person walks by and that is just going to be a bad scene, y'all.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Well then!
I had my first experience with a Hitachi last night. We'd actually bought it about, oh, a month ago, and Jay's been using it, but I have so far resisted. I was... intimidated? Concerned? Hmm. Well, not totally on board with having a Hitachi applied to me.
I mean, that sucker is fucking loud.
I was apparently in somewhat more experimental mental space last night - or at least willing to be talked in to things - because when Jay said "Oooh, let's try out the Hitachi" in the midst of our excited erotic fumblings, I said "Okay?" Maybe it was just that I didn't feel like saying "no" yet again.
Yes, there was a question mark on that.
And... you know, it's different. Not bad, definitely very intense. But different. It's definitely thrum-my, which I've heard. And I found that for me, unlike most vibrators, it needs to not be applied directly to my clit. Press it in to my pubic bone, above or below the clit? Oh now that is delightful. I highly enjoy the fact that everything vibrates.
Is it a game-changer? Nah. Did it totally rock my world and/or tilt it off its axis? Nope. Will I use it again? Meh, probably. I just can't see myself reaching for it repeatedly and often. Of course, I don't reach for vibrators that often anyway, so that's really not super-surprising.
What is interesting is that the twiddly bits were not nearly as sensitive after orgasm as they usually are. How much of that is the Hitachi and how much of that is just where I am on the sexuality swing (see also: the other night, I masturbated to orgasm, and immediately wanted to go again), who knows.
So one Hitachi-assisted orgasm and one penis-assisted orgasm later, at 10 at night, I passed the hell out. And woke up at 6 the next morning with my necklace still on. Classy.
Obviously I needed that.
I mean, that sucker is fucking loud.
I was apparently in somewhat more experimental mental space last night - or at least willing to be talked in to things - because when Jay said "Oooh, let's try out the Hitachi" in the midst of our excited erotic fumblings, I said "Okay?" Maybe it was just that I didn't feel like saying "no" yet again.
Yes, there was a question mark on that.
And... you know, it's different. Not bad, definitely very intense. But different. It's definitely thrum-my, which I've heard. And I found that for me, unlike most vibrators, it needs to not be applied directly to my clit. Press it in to my pubic bone, above or below the clit? Oh now that is delightful. I highly enjoy the fact that everything vibrates.
Is it a game-changer? Nah. Did it totally rock my world and/or tilt it off its axis? Nope. Will I use it again? Meh, probably. I just can't see myself reaching for it repeatedly and often. Of course, I don't reach for vibrators that often anyway, so that's really not super-surprising.
What is interesting is that the twiddly bits were not nearly as sensitive after orgasm as they usually are. How much of that is the Hitachi and how much of that is just where I am on the sexuality swing (see also: the other night, I masturbated to orgasm, and immediately wanted to go again), who knows.
So one Hitachi-assisted orgasm and one penis-assisted orgasm later, at 10 at night, I passed the hell out. And woke up at 6 the next morning with my necklace still on. Classy.
Obviously I needed that.
Sunday, August 08, 2010
Oh god I hope not
So since it's my blog, I figure I can ask some really stupid questions here, right?
Long story short, next month Jay and I will be attending a public fetish-y event. The reservation form for the event asks for scene names.
Neither of us fucking has a scene name.
Are scene names required? Having never been to this kind of event before, I seriously have NO FUCKING IDEA.
Help?
Long story short, next month Jay and I will be attending a public fetish-y event. The reservation form for the event asks for scene names.
Neither of us fucking has a scene name.
Are scene names required? Having never been to this kind of event before, I seriously have NO FUCKING IDEA.
Help?
Thursday, August 05, 2010
Number 1 - Your best friend
SN-
I need to get drunk with you right fucking now because there are so fucking many stupid asshats in this world I can't even.
-SN2
I need to get drunk with you right fucking now because there are so fucking many stupid asshats in this world I can't even.
-SN2
Wednesday, August 04, 2010
Woo equality!
So in case you haven't heard, Proposition 8 in California was overturned today and ruled to be unconstitutional.
Which is fucking awesome.
The ruling itself is a thing of beauty - and of course I'm biased; I have this pesky belief that gender, sex, and sexual orientation shouldn't be reasons to discriminate against anyone - and names opposition to same-sex marriage for what it is: an emotional or religious belief that same-sex couples are inferior to "opposite-sex" couples.
Now granted, I'm privileged. I'm a white straight cis-woman; the only ways I could get more privileged would be to be a cis-man and skinny. So yes, I'm doing a happy dance about this. This means a lot of my friends who couldn't get married before can. This means that they get something I do, that I get to share, that the eyes of the law can't look on them differently than they do me in one very significant and visible way.
Does this mean that everyone's equal? Nope. Does it mean that gay and lesbian people are equal to everyone else? Nope. It doesn't even remotely touch on anything else in "LGBTQQI" besides the "L" and the "G", and even then, only on one specific issue, the recognition of marriage.
There is still so, so much to do. I am not in any way denying that. I'd love to see transpeople included in ENDA. I'd love to see DOMA and DADT repealed. I'd love to see marriage redefined and poly relationships recognized. I'd love to see actual equality, for fucking everyone. This ruling, this ruling about one specific thing, is not even enshrined in law yet and could very well be overturned.
And maybe because I am so privileged, it's easier for me, even with all of that, to do a happy dance about this. Maybe it's easier for me to be overjoyed that a symbol - a symbol - is step-by-step becoming more accessible for everyone, should they choose it.
But you know what? Fuck it. This is another course of bricks in the big ol' house called Equality, and fuck it, I'm celebrating.
Which is fucking awesome.
The ruling itself is a thing of beauty - and of course I'm biased; I have this pesky belief that gender, sex, and sexual orientation shouldn't be reasons to discriminate against anyone - and names opposition to same-sex marriage for what it is: an emotional or religious belief that same-sex couples are inferior to "opposite-sex" couples.
Now granted, I'm privileged. I'm a white straight cis-woman; the only ways I could get more privileged would be to be a cis-man and skinny. So yes, I'm doing a happy dance about this. This means a lot of my friends who couldn't get married before can. This means that they get something I do, that I get to share, that the eyes of the law can't look on them differently than they do me in one very significant and visible way.
Does this mean that everyone's equal? Nope. Does it mean that gay and lesbian people are equal to everyone else? Nope. It doesn't even remotely touch on anything else in "LGBTQQI" besides the "L" and the "G", and even then, only on one specific issue, the recognition of marriage.
There is still so, so much to do. I am not in any way denying that. I'd love to see transpeople included in ENDA. I'd love to see DOMA and DADT repealed. I'd love to see marriage redefined and poly relationships recognized. I'd love to see actual equality, for fucking everyone. This ruling, this ruling about one specific thing, is not even enshrined in law yet and could very well be overturned.
And maybe because I am so privileged, it's easier for me, even with all of that, to do a happy dance about this. Maybe it's easier for me to be overjoyed that a symbol - a symbol - is step-by-step becoming more accessible for everyone, should they choose it.
But you know what? Fuck it. This is another course of bricks in the big ol' house called Equality, and fuck it, I'm celebrating.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Thirty letters
I've seen this meme on a few other blogs, but originally on Britni's. The idea is that over the course of thirty days, you write thirty letters, each to someone different. The list is as follows:
Day 1 — Your Best Friend
Day 2 — Your Crush/ Boyfriend
Day 3 — Your parents
Day 4 — Your sibling (or closest relative)
Day 5 — Your dreams
Day 6 — A stranger
Day 7 — Your Ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/love/crush
Day 8 — Your favorite internet friend
Day 9 — Someone you wish you could meet
Day 10 — Someone you don’t talk to as much as you’d like to
Day 11 — A Deceased person you wish you could talk to
Day 12 — The person you hate most/caused you a lot of pain
Day 13 — Someone you wish could forgive you
Day 14 — Someone you’ve drifted away from
Day 15 — The person you miss the most
Day 16 — Someone that’s not in your state/country
Day 17 — Someone from your childhood
Day 18 — The person that you wish you could be
Day 19 — Someone that pesters your mind—good or bad
Day 20 — The one that broke your heart the hardest
Day 21 — Someone you judged by their first impression
Day 22 — Someone you want to give a second chance to
Day 23 — The last person you kissed
Day 24 — The person that gave you your favorite memory
Day 25 — The person you know that is going through the worst of times
Day 26 — The last person you made a pinky promise to
Day 27 — The friendliest person you knew for only one day
Day 28 — Someone that changed your life
Day 29 — The person that you want tell everything to, but too afraid to
Day 30 — Your reflection in the mirror
I hated writing assignments in school, and I don't do deadlines or dailies very well, but I like the concept. When I have ideas for what at least half of these would look like, after just looking at the list, clearly I need to participate. There's a lot to work with here, and I think "interesting" would be just the tip of the iceberg.
Still, I'm not going to do one every day, nor am I going to do them in order, I think. I might not even do all of them. But, there are some I definitely want to write.
Maybe even send.
So over the next while, you'll see some of these popping up on the blog. They won't be "Day such-and-such", they'll be "Number such-and-such", and they'll be tagged. Let's see how far the rabbit hole goes, hmmm?
Day 1 — Your Best Friend
Day 2 — Your Crush/ Boyfriend
Day 3 — Your parents
Day 4 — Your sibling (or closest relative)
Day 5 — Your dreams
Day 6 — A stranger
Day 7 — Your Ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/love/crush
Day 8 — Your favorite internet friend
Day 9 — Someone you wish you could meet
Day 10 — Someone you don’t talk to as much as you’d like to
Day 11 — A Deceased person you wish you could talk to
Day 12 — The person you hate most/caused you a lot of pain
Day 13 — Someone you wish could forgive you
Day 14 — Someone you’ve drifted away from
Day 15 — The person you miss the most
Day 16 — Someone that’s not in your state/country
Day 17 — Someone from your childhood
Day 18 — The person that you wish you could be
Day 19 — Someone that pesters your mind—good or bad
Day 20 — The one that broke your heart the hardest
Day 21 — Someone you judged by their first impression
Day 22 — Someone you want to give a second chance to
Day 23 — The last person you kissed
Day 24 — The person that gave you your favorite memory
Day 25 — The person you know that is going through the worst of times
Day 26 — The last person you made a pinky promise to
Day 27 — The friendliest person you knew for only one day
Day 28 — Someone that changed your life
Day 29 — The person that you want tell everything to, but too afraid to
Day 30 — Your reflection in the mirror
I hated writing assignments in school, and I don't do deadlines or dailies very well, but I like the concept. When I have ideas for what at least half of these would look like, after just looking at the list, clearly I need to participate. There's a lot to work with here, and I think "interesting" would be just the tip of the iceberg.
Still, I'm not going to do one every day, nor am I going to do them in order, I think. I might not even do all of them. But, there are some I definitely want to write.
Maybe even send.
So over the next while, you'll see some of these popping up on the blog. They won't be "Day such-and-such", they'll be "Number such-and-such", and they'll be tagged. Let's see how far the rabbit hole goes, hmmm?
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
See also: On the Notion of Consent and Personal Responsibility
If you haven't already heard about this story, you're lucky.
Basically, a woman sued Girls Gone Wild for taping her without her consent when she was in a bar a number of years ago. A jury ruled that since she was in the bar, she consented to being filmed.
It gets worse. One, she only found out that she was in the film after an acquaintance told her, a number of years after the fact. Two, what was filmed was her being sexually assaulted. In the video, another woman pulls down her shirt while she can clearly be heard to be saying "no no no".
How fucked up is our culture when not even NO means no?
Never mind the fact that I have issues with the entire "no means no" structure of consent anyway. As you've noticed in previous entries - and probably by my blogroll - I'm a fan of the enthusiastic consent structure. Unless there's a clear "yes", there is no consent. But I recognize that for many people, the only education they receive on matters of consent is in fact "no means no", and so I'm willing to at least work with that. It is, after all, better than nothing.
But in this case, there was not only a lack of enthusiastic, clear consent - the GGW company did not produce a written consent, nor could they produce verbal consent captured on video - but there was a definite presence of the revoking of consent. She was asked to flash the camera. She said no. Someone else assaulted her - and make no mistake, that was assault - and pulled down her shirt, exposing her breasts. There was no consent, and this should have never been put in to the video.
Moreover, I'd say that the camera person has a responsibility to say "HEY THAT ISN'T COOL" and stop the tapes from rolling. Never mind everyone else the bar having a responsibility to say the same thing, at a bare fucking minimum.
The message that this verdict sends is just a reaffirmation of the one rape culture gives us every day. That women are public property. That if we aren't good little girls we deserve whatever happens to us. That going out and having a good time means that anything and everything is on the table.
And that is just fucking bullshit.
Basically, a woman sued Girls Gone Wild for taping her without her consent when she was in a bar a number of years ago. A jury ruled that since she was in the bar, she consented to being filmed.
It gets worse. One, she only found out that she was in the film after an acquaintance told her, a number of years after the fact. Two, what was filmed was her being sexually assaulted. In the video, another woman pulls down her shirt while she can clearly be heard to be saying "no no no".
How fucked up is our culture when not even NO means no?
Never mind the fact that I have issues with the entire "no means no" structure of consent anyway. As you've noticed in previous entries - and probably by my blogroll - I'm a fan of the enthusiastic consent structure. Unless there's a clear "yes", there is no consent. But I recognize that for many people, the only education they receive on matters of consent is in fact "no means no", and so I'm willing to at least work with that. It is, after all, better than nothing.
But in this case, there was not only a lack of enthusiastic, clear consent - the GGW company did not produce a written consent, nor could they produce verbal consent captured on video - but there was a definite presence of the revoking of consent. She was asked to flash the camera. She said no. Someone else assaulted her - and make no mistake, that was assault - and pulled down her shirt, exposing her breasts. There was no consent, and this should have never been put in to the video.
Moreover, I'd say that the camera person has a responsibility to say "HEY THAT ISN'T COOL" and stop the tapes from rolling. Never mind everyone else the bar having a responsibility to say the same thing, at a bare fucking minimum.
The message that this verdict sends is just a reaffirmation of the one rape culture gives us every day. That women are public property. That if we aren't good little girls we deserve whatever happens to us. That going out and having a good time means that anything and everything is on the table.
And that is just fucking bullshit.
No fucking thank you
So, I don't actually like receiving oral.
Giving? Oh, I adore giving. I fantasize about cocks in my mouth on a regular basis.
Receiving? Not so much.
For the most part I try to be, mmm, nonchalant about it. "It's nice", I say, "but that's about all it is". Or, "I can take it or leave it".
That is more where I want to be, where I strive to be, than where I really am.
Where I actually am is Saturday morning, Jay and I had woken up, and I was feeling decidedly frisky. We started making out, he put his hand on my throat, starting using the paddle on my tits (which have I mentioned? I love), started using it on my cunt. I was sprawled on the bed, legs open, really starting to get in to things and thinking to myself "oh god please fuck me" when he bends over me, puts his face between my legs, and ever-so-gently starts licking my clit.
"It's okay, I'm cool" I practically chanted to myself and laid absolutely still. Yeah, it was cool for about 90 seconds, tops, when it was definitely OHMYGODNOTCOOL and I pretty much freaked.
A couple of things:
We eventually processed it all out (at 3 in the morning, when we both went to bed, wheee!), whereupon I cried again. Jay had gotten blindsided when I freaked in the morning, because one, he had no way of knowing what kind of headspace I was already in, and 2, when we had last discussed this topic and I had said "it's not unpleasant?" I had not made clear that that was more in the way of being a goal than my default state of being.
Having processed and reconnected, we were both feeling better, whereupon he proceeded to apply the new clips I bought at Ikea to my nipples, which, I have to share, was DIVINE. Which will teach him to doubt my purchases! And lo, it was good.
Still do not have any desire to be eaten out, ever though, thanks. Just... no.
Giving? Oh, I adore giving. I fantasize about cocks in my mouth on a regular basis.
Receiving? Not so much.
For the most part I try to be, mmm, nonchalant about it. "It's nice", I say, "but that's about all it is". Or, "I can take it or leave it".
That is more where I want to be, where I strive to be, than where I really am.
Where I actually am is Saturday morning, Jay and I had woken up, and I was feeling decidedly frisky. We started making out, he put his hand on my throat, starting using the paddle on my tits (which have I mentioned? I love), started using it on my cunt. I was sprawled on the bed, legs open, really starting to get in to things and thinking to myself "oh god please fuck me" when he bends over me, puts his face between my legs, and ever-so-gently starts licking my clit.
"It's okay, I'm cool" I practically chanted to myself and laid absolutely still. Yeah, it was cool for about 90 seconds, tops, when it was definitely OHMYGODNOTCOOL and I pretty much freaked.
A couple of things:
- The better I'm doing on a given day with respect to my body image, the easier it is for me to chill out and not freak out when Jay starts eating me out. If I'm already anxious in some way about my body, it's far easier for me to be extremely anxious about the state of my vadge. On Saturday, I was already low-level freaking about the fact that we were due to be going to the beach with friends, and I would be wearing a swimsuit, and my legs were kind of hairy, and none of these friends had ever seen me in a swimsuit before. Yes, intellectually, who the fuck cares? It's my body, my body is wonderful, if they have a problem with it it's their problem not mine blah blah blah etc. and so on. And most of the time, I can maintain that. But unlearning the self-loathing for my body that I've been marinating in for nearly 30 years is a long, arduous process, and clearly is not done yet. It was definitely an "EW NO GROSS" moment. I'm not proud of it, but there it is.
- At the best of times, oral sex performed on me is pleasant and nothing more. It does not come close to getting me off, and doesn't do anything to increase the pleasure I'm feeling. If anything, it decreases it, as it's kind of ho-hum. As you can imagine, this doesn't provide any incentive to get over myself in this area.
- I'm really sick of hearing from various sources, such as magazines and the like, that oral is the end-all-be-all of getting off and that women all looooove oral. Fuck you. By stating that women are a monolith you do a disservice to women fucking everywhere. We all get off in different ways and like different things and that's okay.
- Joseph and I, in our myriad discussions, have discussed oral. Upon finding out that I actually don't like receiving, his reply was "When we get together, I WILL go down on you, and you WILL like it." My immediate reaction was "Fuck you, no I won't". I don't respond well to orders. SHOCKING, I know. But that conversation popped in to my head Saturday morning. It added to the fucked-up-ness, which I didn't appreciate.
- I also hear about all these women who just wish their guys would go down on them, and I wish mine wouldn't. How is it that a woman who despises oral keeps attracting guys who love giving it? What the fuck?
- Jay's and my relationship is such that should he choose to dominate this hang-up out of me, he probably could. In other words, he could order me to like it, proceed to do it to me on a regular basis, and basically train my reaction out of me. He hasn't, and I'm not sure I want him to.
- My sense of smell has been cranked to 11 lately, so I am hyper-sensitive to odors, and have a hard time remembering this under pressure.
We eventually processed it all out (at 3 in the morning, when we both went to bed, wheee!), whereupon I cried again. Jay had gotten blindsided when I freaked in the morning, because one, he had no way of knowing what kind of headspace I was already in, and 2, when we had last discussed this topic and I had said "it's not unpleasant?" I had not made clear that that was more in the way of being a goal than my default state of being.
Having processed and reconnected, we were both feeling better, whereupon he proceeded to apply the new clips I bought at Ikea to my nipples, which, I have to share, was DIVINE. Which will teach him to doubt my purchases! And lo, it was good.
Still do not have any desire to be eaten out, ever though, thanks. Just... no.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
*rolleyes*
Joseph and I frequently entertain ourselves during our respective work days by having salacious and flirtatious conversations. Nearly as often, we're discussing politics or philosophy or something else, but the conversations do regularly turn sexual. Sometimes it's describing what we'd like to to do to each other should we ever find ourselves in the same city. Sometimes it's more prosaic - asking and answering questions about what the other likes, limits, etc.
While we were planning Tuesday's escapades, he made a passing remark that I might find it easier to write erotica after I'd "cum a bit".
Never mind the writing, there is no "bit" in cumming for me, and I promptly let him know. We moved on in the conversation but I got the impression that he really didn't understand what I was saying.
Later that night, he did actually get to see me in the throes of orgasm. Now, let me explain. For me, orgasm is often explosive. I've been told by Jay that it looks like I'm having a seizure, for starters. My entire body spasms, and if I'm capable of any vocalization at all, it's merely guttural shrieks and or moans. (Actually, I tend to lose verbal faculties fairly early on in arousal, which drives Joseph up a wall sometimes. Seeing as how we largely communicate through text and phone calls.) After orgasm, my brain more or less shuts down and I spend that time in a daze. This daze can last anywhere from one minute to half an hour, depending on the severity of the orgasm. I myself find it pretty fucking awesome; orgasm is the only thing I've found that can reliably halt my otherwise-constant brain activity. It's a nice break, and would be even if I didn't find orgasm itself intensely pleasurable.
Anyway. After I came to and was capable of moving again, I returned to the conversation.
"Holy fuck. I did not think you were serious. No wonder you fall asleep after; you look like you just got punched in the fucking skull."
Mmmmmmm.
"That or you're channeling a cat in a sunbeam. God damn, woman."
Mmmmmhmmm.
Like seriously, you didn't believe me? I'm pretty sure I'm the resident expert on my orgasm, thanks.
Although it was nice to find that I am occasionally able to read people through just text, and not just in person. No, he did not really understand what I was saying. *sigh*
While we were planning Tuesday's escapades, he made a passing remark that I might find it easier to write erotica after I'd "cum a bit".
Never mind the writing, there is no "bit" in cumming for me, and I promptly let him know. We moved on in the conversation but I got the impression that he really didn't understand what I was saying.
Later that night, he did actually get to see me in the throes of orgasm. Now, let me explain. For me, orgasm is often explosive. I've been told by Jay that it looks like I'm having a seizure, for starters. My entire body spasms, and if I'm capable of any vocalization at all, it's merely guttural shrieks and or moans. (Actually, I tend to lose verbal faculties fairly early on in arousal, which drives Joseph up a wall sometimes. Seeing as how we largely communicate through text and phone calls.) After orgasm, my brain more or less shuts down and I spend that time in a daze. This daze can last anywhere from one minute to half an hour, depending on the severity of the orgasm. I myself find it pretty fucking awesome; orgasm is the only thing I've found that can reliably halt my otherwise-constant brain activity. It's a nice break, and would be even if I didn't find orgasm itself intensely pleasurable.
Anyway. After I came to and was capable of moving again, I returned to the conversation.
"Holy fuck. I did not think you were serious. No wonder you fall asleep after; you look like you just got punched in the fucking skull."
Mmmmmmm.
"That or you're channeling a cat in a sunbeam. God damn, woman."
Mmmmmhmmm.
Like seriously, you didn't believe me? I'm pretty sure I'm the resident expert on my orgasm, thanks.
Although it was nice to find that I am occasionally able to read people through just text, and not just in person. No, he did not really understand what I was saying. *sigh*
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I'm a 20-something feminist switch who tends toward the sub side, living with my hetero life mate/fellow switch/husband, and just trying to figure out what the hell's going on. This is a sex blog, but not strictly a sex blog, because sex is but a part of my life, even though it all ties together. Since I do talk about sex and other related topics, this blog is for adults only, please.
