Happy birthday to me!
My traditional birthday nude is turning more into ‘something I label as nude, but clearly isn’t’.
But it’s my party and I’ll cliche-fake-nude if I want to!
Wish me happy birthday, or at least click the little ‘Likes’ star so I feel loved.
And send champagne. I obviously shouldn’t have to get my own on my birthday!
Do I want you to get attached to me?
No-one ever asks this though.
“You missed me didn’t you?” I ask.
It’s a rhetorical question. I know the answer. I want to hear you say it anyway.
I like to be missed.
I like to be wanted.
I like to be so far inside that it’s unbearable.
I like desperation and fear of loss and emotions out of control.
I like all of those things that make it dangerous for you. Unsafe.
I know I am not supposed to like those things. I am supposed to be looking out for you.
And I will.
But I want all of that regardless.
Then you have to trust me to keep you safe.
Which comes first though, I wonder?
I want the fall first, the reckless fearlessness that makes you leap into it.
The trust comes later, when you learn that I won’t let you hit the ground. Not too hard anyway.
Maybe you knew that. Maybe you just knew somehow.
This is not how most people operate. This is not how most people *should* operate.
But that fierce and fearless defiance is why you’re special. That’s why you’re for me.
I miss you.
Come and find me.
I don’t normally post what comes into my inbox, but this stunningly lovely email arrived in my email yesterday and it made me so very happy I wanted to share it.
If I ever wonder why I write, this is more than enough to remind me.
(posted with permission)
Subject: A long overdue thank you
I’ve been meaning to send this message for a long time and finally got around to it tonight. I apologize in advance for the…I guess you could say…sappy tone of the message, but that’s just how it turned out.
You’re amazing. You’re beautiful on the inside and out and I’m sure you’re told that every day. You’re intelligent and funny and seem like such a kind soul, but on top of all that you have me the best gift anyone has given me. You gave me a normal life.
When I read your book it made me feel normal… Like I wasn’t alone or a freak. I’ve reread your book more times than I can count, not just because I find it unimaginably hot, but because every time I read it I feel even more reassured that I’m not weird.
I never thought it would get better than that, but then you actually talked to me and now I have a group of people that I can talk to and just be myself. I don’t have to hide what I like or who I am like I do at school or even at home. I never thought I would be able to just be myself around people without being judged or criticized.
There is no way I can ever thank you enough for what you have done, but I will always try. I know things don’t last forever and I have no misconceived hope that I may ever get to live out my fantasies when I’m older, but that doesn’t matter to me…. What does matter is what is happening now and that is because of you.
I want you to know you have changed my life in ways nobody else has and for that I am forever thankful and in your debt.
Holy fucking happies!! I cannot draw enough smiley faces for this :)))))).
Polite enough email exchange with a 28yo who claims to be serious about wanting a long term D/s relationship. He lives in New York. No, Seattle. He’s 6′. No, 5’10. Whatever.
We’re done here.
Miss Pearl is a friend of mine and you are obviously an emotionally unhinged liar.
Don’t contact me again.
Want an explanation? All righty then.
Edited to add: Here’s a follow up from Miss Pearl including the charming missive that was addressed to her but that our mutual friend cc’d me in on so that I wouldn’t feel left out. I got my own as well. So special…
As you know, I recently went to Fiji for a couple of weeks.
I’m not one for lying on the beach (which is, I think, the primary image that comes to mind when one says ‘Fiji’), but I did quite a bit of kayaking, snorkelling, rafting, swimming, walking, reading, eating, drinking and playing games (I think my scrabble-fu is getting better: not at all due to my belligerent arguing that “that is SO a word!!”).
Here are some of my holiday snaps (be thankful you aren’t here, I’d be making you look through the lot and make you listen to dull holiday stories!).
About twelve months ago, I said this:
… my orgasms are being weird with me. By [that], I mean that I am able to come, but it feels like an anti-climax. It’s more like my body goes into spasm and is done rather than all those wonderful waves of pleasure and goodness.
I can’t remember now how long that lasted: my body came back from that oddness without me really doing anything. I’m in that place again this past week. I have no idea why, but jesus fuck it’s frustrating.
A couple of things that might contribute: I usually masturbate daily, but I didn’t really masturbate at all when I was on holidays (people around 24/7). It shouldn’t make any difference, I mean it was only two weeks, so it seems ridiculous that it could have any impact (really body, you’re pouting after a couple of weeks of no orgasms?!). I’ve also been sick for coming up on three weeks now (yes, I had it THE WHOLE TIME I was on holidays… typical!). I’m hitting the tail end of it now, but maybe it’s making my body rebel.
Or maybe my body is just changing.
Related to the idea of my body changing, I know my sexual response IS changing. When bambi was here last year, two things were new:
- I’m normally a ‘come once and I’m done’ type: my sexual energy gets depleted and I lose interest. I don’t hit another peak after that. For that reason, if I want to come, I usually leave it right until the end. With bambi, it wasn’t like that. Part of it was obviously the amazingness and connection that he brought to our play and sex, but I also think part of it had to be coming from some change in me. I could keep the energy going so I didn’t lose interest once I’d come, and I COULD come more than once.
- Even though he hadn’t had time to really learn my body all that well, he could make me come more easily than I could. That has never been the case that I can recall. At best, it was even. But once when I had him tied up and helpless and I was trying for a second orgasm, *I had to untie him so he could do it* because he was better at it than I was. That was a kind of astounding revelation for me.
Either way, this body glitch is frustrating and I have a niggling fear that it’s going to stick (which would be fucking terrible!). I’m trying to be gentle with myself and coax my body back into normalcy. I figure if I get all antsy and angry, I will have a rebellion on my hands.
Maybe I just need someone to experiment with. It’s been waaayyy too long.