My First arrives today.
This morning he said he got up to this song. Unbeknownst to me, it’s one that he has associated with me for a long long time.
The first time I heard that song was when my last submissive sent it to me. Similarly (and in a weird coincidence), he also saw me, and us, in it.
- For my last, it was a song about passion, kink, power, love.
- For my First, it’s a song about an unhealthy relationship, obsession, hurt, badness.
They are both right, of course.
I said I had no expectations of this weekend with my First. But that’s not true of course.
I expect that we will settle the unknowns, put the past to bed, and see if there is something worth nurturing into the future. What that might look like I don’t know, but if we settle our history with kind sweetness, I will be more than happy with just that.
I’m excited to see him. I think it will be so strange and a bit awkward at first, though I guess meeting at the gym gives us something to ‘do’ while getting used to being around each other. I imagine we will be feeling each other out to figure out how we relate now. That interesting thing of ‘strangers-but-not’.
I’m really looking forward to it.
I can’t stop watching Ronda Rousey in this gif. It’s amazing.
If you watch the YouTube video, the lead-up to this throw is the guy, am MMA journalist, joking with Rousey, an MMA champion, in a ‘ha ha ur only a woman’ kind of way.
“Hurr hurr, I don’t think you have enough strength and can compete with the men, even though I’m a white belt…”
In short, he was being a dick to an elite athlete: She’s an MMA champion FFS, and he was minimising her achievements, her training, and her skill.
I don’t care if he was all aw shucks jokey mcjokerson, and I don’t care that it was probably a set-up for her to demo a throw: WHAT SORT OF INTERVIEWER SAYS SHIT LIKE THAT TO AN ELITE ATHLETE?
I watched it over and over because it’s amazing: She drops him like it’s nothing. I keep picking up details: his surprised expression, the split second his feet leave the ground, how quick and smooth that entire move is. I keep trying to identify the moment he thought, “Oh shit, this is not gonna go how I thought.”
And when I read that she accidentally broke some of his ribs doing this, I tried to feel sympathy for him, but really, I thought, “Serves you right, arsehole.”
There’s recently been some confusion about what the Ferns Workout Crew (twitter hashtag #fwocrew) is and isn’t, and I started to explain on twitter, but it was all TOO HARD. So here it is.
I started the ‘Ferns Workout Crew’ forever ago when I was struggling to stay motivated to go to the gym.
I did a callout for folks who were willing to commit to workouts with me, and who would commit to supporting each other on twitter.
The crew has since grown to
15 17 people now, which is awesome!
However I recently had a few people wanting to join possibly thinking that it was just what it seemed to be on the surface: ‘people working out and logging it and using a weird hashtag’, but that’s not what it is.
It’s a support network: a bunch of (people who become) friends who pay attention to each other’s workout efforts and struggles and triumphs and whining (that’s mostly me to be fair) and who help each other to succeed. THAT’S the value in it.
And it works great. This is what it looks like in practice:
For the record, the lovely @fitstepd (and his sweet booty (there, are you happy now?! :P)) then went off to do his workout, so yay!
But it relies on active participation from all members. It’s not enough to just do your own thing without supporting the others in the group. Then you end up with a few people throwing their energy into cheerleading and motivating and everyone else being passive recipients of that attention without giving anything back. Unsurprisingly, that doesn’t work.
So when people ask to join, I ask them to commit to two things:
- Working out regularly and publicly logging the results
- Actively supporting all the other members of the group
Of those, the second is what makes it work. Of course ‘actively supporting’ doesn’t mean everyone has to rabidly respond to every #fwocrew-related tweet that goes by, but if they see one in their timeline and have a second to respond, I expect them to show interest and support.
In addition to that, the #fwocrew gets an extra level of attention from me: I do weeks where we set specific goals, I create beautiful graph porn about us, I expose all members’ logs on my workout page, and if anyone goes AWOL, I WILL come and find them to see what’s going on.
The Fitocracy fwocrew Group (or ‘yeep, people are a bit confused’)
Fitocracy is a workout logging tool that some of us use, and there is a Fitocracy fwocrew group which is run by DualDrew, one of our fine #fwocrew members. Other #fwocrew members have joined it. As have non-#fwocrew members. In fact anyone can join that group and participate in the logging, points gathering, and the challenges. It’s a great motivational tool in and of itself and I think it will work a treat for 99% of folks. You don’t have to make ANY commitment to me or to the group or to anyone to join it: work out, don’t work out, participate in group stuff, don’t participate, it’s all up to you.
But to clarify: if you join that group and start logging workouts, you don’t suddenly fit the criteria for the #fwocrew because that requires an explicit agreement with me about your commitment to your workouts and about your willingness to support other #fwocrew members (some of whom (like me) are NOT using Fitocracy).
In short: If you want to join a friendly group of D/s folks to help motivate you with your workouts, and like Fitocracy as a tool, go and join the Fitocracy fwocrew group. Completely obligation-free!
But if you want to join the #fwocrew ‘proper’, then I will ask more of you than just working out and logging it.
And to think, I considered trying to explain this in a series of tweets *laugh*. Silly me.
Next weekend my First is flying in to spend the weekend.
He’s arriving on Saturday morning, staying nearby overnight, and heading off Sunday. He’s hired a car, so there’ll be no picking him up at the airport in fabulous heels and doing that squinty-confused face where I’m terrified I won’t recognise him.
In fact, we’re meeting at my gym (not kidding!). He’s a gym-head from way back (his body reflects this… phew!) and I asked him to put together a new program for me since I’m stagnating with what I’m doing now.
So we’ll reintroduce ourselves with him walking me through some brutal awfulness that he’s designed to kick me out of my half-arsed maintenance mode. I guess it’s not a bad thing that he will get to re-meet me gymified (for those not in the know, that is SO a word, and it means ‘dressed in unflattering gym gear while being whiny, grunty, sweaty, and red-faced’): I think that the first hour or so together should shatter any idealistic fantasies of me that his memory may have embellished over the years…
He has sweetly said that he wants to take me out on a date: “The sort of date we never really had in that previous millennia” (honestly, I can’t remember where (or how or if) we used to ‘go out’ back in the day). That sounds just lovely *happy sigh*, and I’ve booked what I hope will be a great restaurant for the Saturday night.
There WILL be champagne because I have some (duh!) and he has asked what my favourite is (best question EVER!) so I assume he’s bringing some also. Other than that, we will just see.
We haven’t talked much over the last couple of months: We pretty much sorted our history out, and we were both busy getting on with our lives, so the intensity of communication has cooled since the flurry of revelations and resurfacing feelings. I think that’s probably a good thing for a fresh reintroduction to each other.
Neither of us has any expectations about how it will go. For me, I’m just so curious. He was so young when we knew each other, I’m interested to learn who he is now. If there is a frisson of attraction between us, that would be fun to play with a little, but he’s in an open relationship and I really (really) don’t share well with others, so that’s a natural barrier to any potential that might be there.
I’m hoping that we have so much to talk about that we will wonder where the time went and be reluctant to part ways when he has to leave. Though I promise, I WILL make sure I get my guest some food this time…
I’ve been avoiding writing about this, not because it didn’t turn out the way I wanted (spoiler alert: it didn’t), but because I was hoping for it to end well and I wanted to allow enough time for that to happen (then more time, then a bit more…).
By ‘ending well’, I don’t mean ‘the way I wanted’, I mean with mutual respect and bitter sweetness.
But I have to face that that’s not going to happen and THAT makes me sad and disappointed and angry.
I hate that it would have been so EASY to end it well (SO easy!), but he has apparently decided that it’s all too hard, or perhaps he’s decided that it just doesn’t matter. I really have no idea.
When he was floundering, when it felt like he was withdrawing and we were sorting it out, we had this exchange:
Me: …I’m going to ask you for a promise: please don’t disappear from me without a word, because that’s really hurtful. Of all things, it’s the most hurtful because it shows so little regard or care. I don’t expect you would, but sometimes people who feel scared do things that are out of character.
Him: … I want you to know I would never in my life just cut off communication with you… EVER.
And I believed him. Though I guess once you end things, all bets are off. But I trusted him. And I feel hurt that my trust was misplaced much MORE than I feel hurt that it’s done.
So the story of the sex-voiced Texan goes like this:
We started talking in December. He commented in a group discussion, I looked at his profile, I ‘loved’ one of his photos, he sent me a sweet email.
And the connection, THE connection: you know what I mean: Sparkles and laughter and sweetness and intimacy and longer and longer conversations.
With an optimistically planned visit pushed out to ‘goodness knows when’, though, he started to withdraw.
I asked him what was going on and it was clear that he was struggling with ‘whatever this was’, this remote connection with no concrete plan. He didn’t know what to do with the feelings when there was nowhere to put them.
I completely understand that. I laid out the facts (that this would not end happily, that he would be hurt, that it would be easier to end it now than later), and I asked him to make a decision. I was very clear with him that I thought it would be worth it to see where we could take this. I really REALLY liked him, and that happens so rarely for me.
He wrote me a really difficult email that included such sweetness (“you are far beyond any other woman I have ever talked to” and “I like you so incredibly fucking much that I don’t want to stop with you”), but he couldn’t do it. The potential hurt scared him so badly. He is not a man who makes himself vulnerable easily, he worked hard to do that for me to the extent that he did. He said he wanted to stay in touch.
I could have let it go then, thanked him sweetly for everything (which I did), and faded away quietly. But I am not really the ‘fading away quietly’ type when there is something I want, and I didn’t want to leave a ‘what if’ on the table without making sure I had exhausted all possibilities. I decided to break my ‘hard’ rule about not financing an LDR again, and I asked him if he would be open to meeting if I paid for it, if that changed anything.
And then I waited for a reply.
I got silence.
And more silence.
I waited. God, the waiting. It drives me mad.
Eventually (apparently I am a slow learner), it became clear to me that he had no intention of replying.
I was floored, hurt, disappointed as that realisation became clear.
So I waited a little longer.
I finally sent him a note letting him know that I had heard him loud and clear in the silence of the void, I thanked him for the pleasure of the time he spent with me, I wished him well.
He never replied to that either.
I’m hurt LESS by it ending, because I understand that decision, and well, that’s life, and MORE by his choice to simply stop communicating with me when I had laid my vulnerability at his feet. I know that saying ‘no’ to me isn’t easy, but he had handled our communications up to that point with maturity and grace, and I expected no different with this. In all honesty, I expected him to decline: I was ready for it. What I was NOT ready for was his deafening silence.
I expected more from him: he had shown me over and over that he was a man of his word, so it hits hard. It makes it feel as if all of it is now suspect, as if none of it mattered, or meant anything. As if every sincere thing he said, every mega-watt smile, every sweetness we shared was worth nothing.
So now instead of coming away with memories of something sweet that didn’t work out, I am carrying a little core of resentment and hurt in my hands, and I hate that. I really hate it.
And it’s THAT feeling that scores ridges in my heart, creates scar tissue, makes it harden, become jaded. And I really hate that too.
I kept meaning to write about the results of doing crossfit at the end of last year. It’s been forever now, so it hardly seems worth talking about it, but I’m doing it anyway.
There was a special offer at a nearby gym for 6 weeks of crossfit. I’ve always been terrified of it because the likelihood of injury seemed to be really high. Plus I’m an extreme introvert who is not competitive, so the whole ‘group training’ and ‘rah rah’ and ‘aiming to beat each other’ had me making THAT face (you know, THAT face: the lip-curled eww-face).
Anyway, I did it. Two weeks of intro and technique training, then three times a week for another four weeks. I was lucky: the crossfit version that the gym did was a very laid back ‘Australian’ kind of thing. Still in groups, but no competition and no cheering each other on (thank goodness). I still hated it. I hated going there, I hated the group thing, I hated being nice to people, I hated having to interact, I hated the high intensity of it, I hated the *really hard* work.
But I cannot deny that it got me results.
I didn’t log the crossfit exercises in Jefit, but I DID log my normal workouts up to the point where I started crossfit, and then saw the results when I went back to the gym after the 6 week program.
These graphs show the weights I was lifting before I started crossfit, there is a flat period where I wasn’t logging individual exercises while I was doing crossfit, then at the end of the 6 weeks, I went back to the gym and started logging again.
The results are really clear: I had significant strength gains after 6 weeks. I also think that I felt more confident to push myself harder after the high intensity work that crossfit introduced for me, so that helped also.
Am I doing more of it? Aw hell no.
I loved the results, but I HATED pretty much everything about it, plus it’s about four times the cost of a normal gym membership. So yeah, nup.