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.
Showing posts with label processing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label processing. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
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.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Being a feminist kinkster
A thought occurred to me the other day:
But if it's my sexual agency, my power - isn't it mine to give away if I want?
If, as per feminism, I am an agent of my own free will, if I own my own agency, if I have the power to make choices for myself, why can't I sometimes choose - CHOOSE - to give that power away to someone else?
As has probably now been made quite clear, I identify as a feminist. I firmly believe that I am the equal of anyone on the planet - not the same, but equal - that I am fully capable of making my own choices, that no one has the right to take those choices away from me. I believe that I am a person, too - and that we are all people, even the ones I don't like.
What's probably painfully obvious is that I also identify as kinky. And while as a switch, there are definitely times when I want to be giving out the beatings, more often than not I want to be on the receiving end. (And sometimes, I just want to go to sleep oh god just let me sleep.) (Who am I kidding, most times I want to sleep. Mmm, sleep.)
And I've spent a lot of time, well, anguishing over these two parts of my identity and trying to bring them in to alignment with the whole of me. It's not an easy fit for me. Being less than anyone doesn't go down easy. This entry is the result of a lot of reading, and a fair number of years of thinking distilled.
I see no signs of being finished with the whole "cohesive identity" thing yet; I fully expect that to take a lifetime. And there's a lot to unpack, I think, with kink and the intersection with the culture I live in. (Note to self: write about kink intersectionality at some point.)
But, my will, my power, my agency, belong to me - inasmuch as they can belong to anyone raised in the miasma of the patriarchy. I may not own every aspect of it, and I may not understand owning it completely. I may not even fully know how far that agency goes. After all, I was raised under the memo that I don't own that, that I am subject to someone else's will. But even if that ownership is a work in progress, I am choosing - there's that word again - to act as if it isn't. To own, in totality, what I have, and to act as if I do completely own my own agency.
So therefore, if the choices are mine, why can't I give them away?
But, and this is a big but, the important part is that I am in fact choosing. It is, incontrovertably, my choice to give away my agency, or part of it, to Jay. Sometimes. Under certain circumstances. Where I am completely involved and invested in negotiating what those circumstances are, and just what choices I'm giving up.
There's a huge, vast difference for me in choosing to give away my choices, my power, and having them taken away from me. Having my choices taken away from me, my freedom as a person taken away, happens every day, in big ways and small - from court rulings and laws enacted that take away from my bodily autonomy and limit my access to reproductive healthcare, to the person on the street who says "Oh honey you really shouldn't wear that". It's a kind of theft; it's a violation.
But it's a different feeling and experience than voluntarily giving up a choice, or a group of choices, or a fair number of choices. It's different when it's a conscious choice. Regardless of what informs or motivates that choice.
So. If it's mine - and I have to function as and believe that it is - why can't I give it away?
But if it's my sexual agency, my power - isn't it mine to give away if I want?
If, as per feminism, I am an agent of my own free will, if I own my own agency, if I have the power to make choices for myself, why can't I sometimes choose - CHOOSE - to give that power away to someone else?
As has probably now been made quite clear, I identify as a feminist. I firmly believe that I am the equal of anyone on the planet - not the same, but equal - that I am fully capable of making my own choices, that no one has the right to take those choices away from me. I believe that I am a person, too - and that we are all people, even the ones I don't like.
What's probably painfully obvious is that I also identify as kinky. And while as a switch, there are definitely times when I want to be giving out the beatings, more often than not I want to be on the receiving end. (And sometimes, I just want to go to sleep oh god just let me sleep.) (Who am I kidding, most times I want to sleep. Mmm, sleep.)
And I've spent a lot of time, well, anguishing over these two parts of my identity and trying to bring them in to alignment with the whole of me. It's not an easy fit for me. Being less than anyone doesn't go down easy. This entry is the result of a lot of reading, and a fair number of years of thinking distilled.
I see no signs of being finished with the whole "cohesive identity" thing yet; I fully expect that to take a lifetime. And there's a lot to unpack, I think, with kink and the intersection with the culture I live in. (Note to self: write about kink intersectionality at some point.)
But, my will, my power, my agency, belong to me - inasmuch as they can belong to anyone raised in the miasma of the patriarchy. I may not own every aspect of it, and I may not understand owning it completely. I may not even fully know how far that agency goes. After all, I was raised under the memo that I don't own that, that I am subject to someone else's will. But even if that ownership is a work in progress, I am choosing - there's that word again - to act as if it isn't. To own, in totality, what I have, and to act as if I do completely own my own agency.
So therefore, if the choices are mine, why can't I give them away?
But, and this is a big but, the important part is that I am in fact choosing. It is, incontrovertably, my choice to give away my agency, or part of it, to Jay. Sometimes. Under certain circumstances. Where I am completely involved and invested in negotiating what those circumstances are, and just what choices I'm giving up.
There's a huge, vast difference for me in choosing to give away my choices, my power, and having them taken away from me. Having my choices taken away from me, my freedom as a person taken away, happens every day, in big ways and small - from court rulings and laws enacted that take away from my bodily autonomy and limit my access to reproductive healthcare, to the person on the street who says "Oh honey you really shouldn't wear that". It's a kind of theft; it's a violation.
But it's a different feeling and experience than voluntarily giving up a choice, or a group of choices, or a fair number of choices. It's different when it's a conscious choice. Regardless of what informs or motivates that choice.
So. If it's mine - and I have to function as and believe that it is - why can't I give it away?
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Some times you feel like a beating!
Some times you don't!
(Yes, I am singing that to the tune of the old Almond Joy/Mounds jingle, why do you ask?)
One of the things I've gotten more aware of as I've gotten older (you'll note I did not say wiser) was that my life tends to move in cycles. Oh sure, there's the usual circadian rhythms, and the menstrual cycle, and blah blah blah, but I'm talking more, and more overarching.
I've noted that I have an overarching cycle in my life, for example, with my appetite. I cycle back and forth between a highly diminished appetite, where I can go all day without eating and nothing is very interesting, and a very enhanced one where I need to eat about every fifteen minutes and everything sounds DELICIOUS. Similarly, in terms of how easy it is for me to get up early in the morning, how interested I am in interacting with other people, how interested I am in leaving my house and going out and being social, and how interested I am in bottoming.
Well, that last, it varies from "please beat me ALL DAY THANKS", "yeah, a beatin's 'aight", "touch me and I'll break your arm", and "I can beats you nao?" But, you know. It cycles.
When I first noticed this, well, it caused me some worry. OH MY GOD I would think WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME and WHAT THE HELL HAVE I BEEN DOING. You see, I frequently question myself. I shouldn't really, but I do it anyway. And clearly since I was not interested in any sort of submissive or bottoming activities, that meant that a, I was screwed up, b, I wasn't really a submissive/bottom, and/or c, I really need to not do that. Mostly it was d, all of the above. With a dash of "how the hell did that seem like a good idea".
Hey, I didn't say it made sense. However, it is more or less what I thought.
I'm in one of those "please to be beating me all days thank you" phases right now, which I haven't been for a while. It is delightful. I'm past worrying that my ever-changing desires make me wrong, or broken or whatnot. Now we're working on enjoying what's happening right now. Easier said than done, but I think worthwhile.
Also linked to that is working on communicating with Jay as to where I'm at and what I'm looking for. Again, easier said than done. It's one thing for me to know something in my head and be aware of it, and quite another to verbalize it. Words have power for me, and giving Jay the words to describe what I want gives him power. Whether I trust him or not is secondary to that, really - certainly trusting him as I do doesn't make it any easier for me. But... working on it.
Working on a lot of things, really.
(Yes, I am singing that to the tune of the old Almond Joy/Mounds jingle, why do you ask?)
One of the things I've gotten more aware of as I've gotten older (you'll note I did not say wiser) was that my life tends to move in cycles. Oh sure, there's the usual circadian rhythms, and the menstrual cycle, and blah blah blah, but I'm talking more, and more overarching.
I've noted that I have an overarching cycle in my life, for example, with my appetite. I cycle back and forth between a highly diminished appetite, where I can go all day without eating and nothing is very interesting, and a very enhanced one where I need to eat about every fifteen minutes and everything sounds DELICIOUS. Similarly, in terms of how easy it is for me to get up early in the morning, how interested I am in interacting with other people, how interested I am in leaving my house and going out and being social, and how interested I am in bottoming.
Well, that last, it varies from "please beat me ALL DAY THANKS", "yeah, a beatin's 'aight", "touch me and I'll break your arm", and "I can beats you nao?" But, you know. It cycles.
When I first noticed this, well, it caused me some worry. OH MY GOD I would think WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME and WHAT THE HELL HAVE I BEEN DOING. You see, I frequently question myself. I shouldn't really, but I do it anyway. And clearly since I was not interested in any sort of submissive or bottoming activities, that meant that a, I was screwed up, b, I wasn't really a submissive/bottom, and/or c, I really need to not do that. Mostly it was d, all of the above. With a dash of "how the hell did that seem like a good idea".
Hey, I didn't say it made sense. However, it is more or less what I thought.
I'm in one of those "please to be beating me all days thank you" phases right now, which I haven't been for a while. It is delightful. I'm past worrying that my ever-changing desires make me wrong, or broken or whatnot. Now we're working on enjoying what's happening right now. Easier said than done, but I think worthwhile.
Also linked to that is working on communicating with Jay as to where I'm at and what I'm looking for. Again, easier said than done. It's one thing for me to know something in my head and be aware of it, and quite another to verbalize it. Words have power for me, and giving Jay the words to describe what I want gives him power. Whether I trust him or not is secondary to that, really - certainly trusting him as I do doesn't make it any easier for me. But... working on it.
Working on a lot of things, really.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
On maturity
I wasn't kidding when I said that 2009 was the year of men in my life. There's a lot to unpack with that, so I'm going to try to not blow the entire load in one entry because that would be silly (blogging hang-ups: I haz them), but I do want to talk about it.
First and foremost, Jay and I got married early this year. That didn't really change our relationship (except legally), I don't think. We've been together for most of the past 10 years (ten years! TEN YEARS, dear god, ten years). We've lived together, lived apart, shared bills, slept in the same bed practically since we met each other, been to each other's family gatherings and holidays and weddings and funerals, and been a linked pair in most of our family's and friends' minds for a long time now.
People keep asking me how it feels to be married, as if it were some life-altering totally radical change in our relationship. I don't have an answer for them, because it did not radically alter our relationship. We giggle that we're married, and are ridiculous entertained by referring to each other as "husband" and "wife". Yes, we're twelve, what of it? But the fundamentals of our relationship have not changed. I refer to him as my partner for a number of reasons, but first and foremost because that's what he is. We've both worked hard - damned hard - to have a relationship of equals, and just because cultural baggage says we're not, doesn't mean I want that.
What it has changed, however, is our relationship to other people.
First and foremost, Jay and I got married early this year. That didn't really change our relationship (except legally), I don't think. We've been together for most of the past 10 years (ten years! TEN YEARS, dear god, ten years). We've lived together, lived apart, shared bills, slept in the same bed practically since we met each other, been to each other's family gatherings and holidays and weddings and funerals, and been a linked pair in most of our family's and friends' minds for a long time now.
People keep asking me how it feels to be married, as if it were some life-altering totally radical change in our relationship. I don't have an answer for them, because it did not radically alter our relationship. We giggle that we're married, and are ridiculous entertained by referring to each other as "husband" and "wife". Yes, we're twelve, what of it? But the fundamentals of our relationship have not changed. I refer to him as my partner for a number of reasons, but first and foremost because that's what he is. We've both worked hard - damned hard - to have a relationship of equals, and just because cultural baggage says we're not, doesn't mean I want that.
What it has changed, however, is our relationship to other people.
I'm told the term I'm looking for may be "Saturn Return"
I've been working my way through the Top 100 Sex Bloggers of 2009, and discovering lots and lots of fantabulous new reading material.
My blogroll is sadly out of date.
Hell, this blog is sadly out date. Yes, it's been well over a year since I've posted here. At the time I really dropped off, August of 2008, I had moved with Jay to a crappy tiny apartment, I had a crappy job that sucked the life out of me (almost literally; I wound up distressingly ill while working it), my life was a mess.
Clearly, some things have changed.
There's so much to write about! 2009 has been the year of men in my life! We moved to a brand new apartment that has a room we're seriously considering making a semi-permanent playroom! There are hooks more or less permanently attached to the head and footboards! Jay and I got officially married! I have a much better job, that while I hate it, doesn't make me sick! I have been thinking about and wanting and having sex again!
Seriously. Part of my adult identity has been my libido and sexual tastes, and for a while they were just... gone. It was fairly distressing. Added to all of the other things that were fucking my shit up last year, and the tail end of 2008 and, if we're honest, probably the first half of 2009 were a head-fuck of gigantic proportions.
But now that things have started progressing again, it occurs to me that having this self-created safe space to verbally work out some of the things in my head and in my life is probably a helpful, useful thing, and it probably behooves me to utilize it.
So. I'm back.
And updating my damn blogroll, jaysus christ that thing is a mess.
My blogroll is sadly out of date.
Hell, this blog is sadly out date. Yes, it's been well over a year since I've posted here. At the time I really dropped off, August of 2008, I had moved with Jay to a crappy tiny apartment, I had a crappy job that sucked the life out of me (almost literally; I wound up distressingly ill while working it), my life was a mess.
Clearly, some things have changed.
There's so much to write about! 2009 has been the year of men in my life! We moved to a brand new apartment that has a room we're seriously considering making a semi-permanent playroom! There are hooks more or less permanently attached to the head and footboards! Jay and I got officially married! I have a much better job, that while I hate it, doesn't make me sick! I have been thinking about and wanting and having sex again!
Seriously. Part of my adult identity has been my libido and sexual tastes, and for a while they were just... gone. It was fairly distressing. Added to all of the other things that were fucking my shit up last year, and the tail end of 2008 and, if we're honest, probably the first half of 2009 were a head-fuck of gigantic proportions.
But now that things have started progressing again, it occurs to me that having this self-created safe space to verbally work out some of the things in my head and in my life is probably a helpful, useful thing, and it probably behooves me to utilize it.
So. I'm back.
And updating my damn blogroll, jaysus christ that thing is a mess.
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
to put the world to rights
You know, it's really difficult to take pictures of really tall boots while you're wearing them. At least, I find it difficult to get a picture that I like.
A week or two ago, I had asked Jay if he'd be willing to indulge me in what I believe I termed as "serious rope". Not so much predicament bondage, or anything that would cause me pain in any way, but being seriously tied up and immobilized by vast quantities of rope. There's a kind of zen in being unable to move like that, in the presence of someone you love. I needed that.
For whatever reason, we haven't managed it yet. We've both been tired - me more than usual; hating my job tends to make me sleepy, which I am ascribing to mild depression - and busy. I spent the weekend at a friend's house last weekend, which also didn't afford us many opportunities to do anything. And, Jay being Jay, he wanted to have a definite plan in mind.
I'm not posting this to complain, however it might seem. But... I still need that moment of calm. I need to feel that giving up of the effort to control everything - giving up that feeling that I have to be in control, like I have to be in charge and be a rational adult. It's difficult for me to relax completely unless I'm forced to. Rope just happens to be a really good way of calming me down, and giving me the ability to let go and just be. It's one of the few things that can reliably shut my nattering mind up, without giving it extra things to work over later.
My calendar is looking rather free on Saturday at the moment. I think that I will be penciling him in, if he's amenable to the idea.
A week or two ago, I had asked Jay if he'd be willing to indulge me in what I believe I termed as "serious rope". Not so much predicament bondage, or anything that would cause me pain in any way, but being seriously tied up and immobilized by vast quantities of rope. There's a kind of zen in being unable to move like that, in the presence of someone you love. I needed that.
For whatever reason, we haven't managed it yet. We've both been tired - me more than usual; hating my job tends to make me sleepy, which I am ascribing to mild depression - and busy. I spent the weekend at a friend's house last weekend, which also didn't afford us many opportunities to do anything. And, Jay being Jay, he wanted to have a definite plan in mind.
I'm not posting this to complain, however it might seem. But... I still need that moment of calm. I need to feel that giving up of the effort to control everything - giving up that feeling that I have to be in control, like I have to be in charge and be a rational adult. It's difficult for me to relax completely unless I'm forced to. Rope just happens to be a really good way of calming me down, and giving me the ability to let go and just be. It's one of the few things that can reliably shut my nattering mind up, without giving it extra things to work over later.
My calendar is looking rather free on Saturday at the moment. I think that I will be penciling him in, if he's amenable to the idea.
Monday, July 10, 2006
Attention_whore++
I have a little bit of an exhibitionist streak, but not enough to actually post any naked pictures on here. Still, I've finally decided to add a profile picture. In it, I am wearing one of my favorite collars, and you get to see my hair, which I am in love with all over again after seeing this picture.
I am in fact a girl, no matter how much I may act like a guy; therefore it is a-okay for me to be in love with my hair (and I totally am).
Now, I started this blog mainly as a way to work out some stuff about my life, mainly kinky, that I couldn't really talk about anywhere else. I like to think that I have done that, quite a bit, and I see no reason to stop doing so. It's immensely helpful just to get it all out, somewhere, before I have to talk intelligently about it. Not that I talk about all of this, but, well, you know. It's always helpful to have one's thoughts organized. And mine are frequently disheveled at best.
But knowing that other people read this... well shit, it's damn fun. If enjoying this fact, even perhaps getting a small, non-inflating ego boost from it, makes me a stereotypical "blogger", then so be it. I'm human, after all, and I like it when people pay attention to me. I like it a lot. I think it's one of the reasons why I'm a sub, actually. Subs tend to get lots of people paying attention to them, and usually in very delicious ways.
Not that I'm above paying some attention to other people. Of course not; I'm not completely narcissistic. But... I like it when people pay attention to me. And knowing that people read this blog (and will now be looking at a picture of me, regardless of the fact that you can't really identify me from it) is a really nice way of getting attention paid to me. Sure, there might not be that many people doing it, but that's perfectly okay. In the end, this is all for me anyway.
But I'm an attention whore. And I'm okay with that.
I am in fact a girl, no matter how much I may act like a guy; therefore it is a-okay for me to be in love with my hair (and I totally am).
Now, I started this blog mainly as a way to work out some stuff about my life, mainly kinky, that I couldn't really talk about anywhere else. I like to think that I have done that, quite a bit, and I see no reason to stop doing so. It's immensely helpful just to get it all out, somewhere, before I have to talk intelligently about it. Not that I talk about all of this, but, well, you know. It's always helpful to have one's thoughts organized. And mine are frequently disheveled at best.
But knowing that other people read this... well shit, it's damn fun. If enjoying this fact, even perhaps getting a small, non-inflating ego boost from it, makes me a stereotypical "blogger", then so be it. I'm human, after all, and I like it when people pay attention to me. I like it a lot. I think it's one of the reasons why I'm a sub, actually. Subs tend to get lots of people paying attention to them, and usually in very delicious ways.
Not that I'm above paying some attention to other people. Of course not; I'm not completely narcissistic. But... I like it when people pay attention to me. And knowing that people read this blog (and will now be looking at a picture of me, regardless of the fact that you can't really identify me from it) is a really nice way of getting attention paid to me. Sure, there might not be that many people doing it, but that's perfectly okay. In the end, this is all for me anyway.
But I'm an attention whore. And I'm okay with that.
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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.
