Archive for the 'venting' Category

Bullshit, Part II

Published on November 22, 2011 in anger, anxiety, assault, consent, recovery, stupid people, trauma, trust, Uncategorized and venting. 3 Comments

On the other end of the irritating spectrum is the fact that the guy who sexually assaulted me is still denying it. (Description here, despite his trying to claim I deleted it off my blog.) I wrote about my situation, not naming him of course, on Good Vibrations’ blog because I think more discussion needs to happen around non-consensual acts in a community that prides itself on consent. He commented (outing himself!?) denying that anything non-consensual happened. GV got nervous, so I offered to re-write the post. The original can now be found on Kitty Stryker’s blog. He also tried to leave a comment here, but I don’t feel I owe this man any airtime in my space.

It’s disgusting that this man still refuses to take responsibility for his actions. I feel certain that there could be clear video and audio footage of the incident – of me telling him to take the speculum out because it hurt and his continuing to hurt me instead – and he’d still deny responsibility. I don’t expect any different from him, but he should realize that he’s not going to shut me up about what I KNOW happened.

It’s also disgusting that it seems the organizers of the Geeky Kink Event told him that I sent them information on him. Hey, it was within their rights to decide to keep him teaching a class, but to tell him that his victim reported him? What the fuck? They could have very well put me in danger. So far harassing comments denying his responsibility are all that he’s done, but they didn’t know what might happen. I’m still waiting for an explanation for this. MasterDoc contacted them and so far they don’t seem to have anything to say for themselves.

I’m refraining from naming the con that approached me discreetly and respectfully earlier this year and decided to ban the asshole. Hopefully it drives him nuts to not know who will be denying his application to teach next year. I had hoped that maybe people were becoming more concerned with consent and better able to handle complaints since things were handled so beautifully with this con. Unfortunately, it seems I can be sure of that with only one grouping. As for the Geeky Kink Event, if you’re a survivor don’t approach them as they clearly won’t honor your privacy one iota (nor worry about your safety). And if the guy who assaulted me is to be believed, apparently they feel qualified to decide if I was assaulted or not.

Bullshit, Part I

Published on November 21, 2011 in anger, bdsm, consent, D/s, DeeDee, happy, kink, mental illness, mother, musings, sexuality, stupid people, trust, Uncategorized and venting. 3 Comments

It has been quite a week here. I’ve been sick, DeeDee had family issues and I dealt with premenstrual dysphoric disorder early in the week. I hope next week is far better.

I’ve been left contemplating how consenting adults can have their choices questioned (part I) but on the other hand people who violate withdrawn consent can go around denying it for years (part II).

Some members of DeeDee’s family have decided that she can’t possibly have chosen to be in a bdsm relationship. They think she must be abused. They’ve found my blog and point to my own history with depression (and the one time I was hospitalized for such 23 years ago when I was a teenager). People into bdsm are as varied as any other group of people. Some are mentally well, some have mental illness, some are awesome people who stick strictly to the notion that consent matters, and unfortunately, a few are predatory. People into bdsm generally like things more intense than others. Are people who like to burn their mouths on hot, spicy food sick people? How is this different? I like extra spice with my sexuality. I like the feelings of bliss released when controlled pain is applied to my body in a consensual situation. While I suffer from a mental illness, that is not what causes me to love playing with power differential sexually. I’ve had kinky fantasies since childhood, and while my family is your garden-variety dysfunctional American family, I was not abused at all in childhood. No one beat me, no one did inappropriate sexual things to me (or, indeed, any sexual things to me). I was treated lovingly for the most part and, as an only child for the first 11 years, I was pretty much spoiled. (On one side of the family, I was the only grandchild for 9 years. Oh yeah. Spoiled.) Being turned on by thoughts of bondage and helplessness just occurred naturally. (And, I might add, long before I was raped or sexually assaulted. Rape and sexual assault, sadly, are more common in this world than bdsm.)

The infantilization of those with mental illness would be humorous if it wasn’t so damn offensive. I would like to think that while I certainly talk about a lot of intense kinky sex here, I also very clearly convey the loving relationship I have with MasterDoc. He doesn’t take advantage of my mental illness. If anything he has mentored me in adopting better coping mechanisms. I don’t blow up in emotional outbursts as often as I used to. I’m far better at asking for what I need emotionally rather than stewing and expecting others to read my mind. Bad methods of coping I learned from my mother have been slowly unlearned with MasterDoc’s patient teaching. I suffer far less distress than I used to because I can handle things more rationally.

But, you see, I would bet DeeDee’s family will think he made me write that, or something. Determining that my agency has been taken away from me without so much as talking to me is also damn offensive. While I like the security of considering myself owned by MasterDoc, the truth is owning people is illegal in the United States. I am a free woman. I have a career. I can pay my own bills. No one is manipulating me to be MasterDoc’s submissive. I have the means to leave if I wanted. But I don’t want to – not because anyone has worn me down or some shit, but because I have a tremendous amount of loving support from my chosen family. My current household is so delightfully stable and placid compared to that of my parents’ house. (While ultimately loving, my Mother had a tendency to shout and have emotional outbursts. Thankfully my Dad was stable.)

I think it might actually disappoint some people just how normal and dare I say, equitable, our relationship can be. I can disagree with him. We will discuss things we disagree on. MasterDoc likes having intelligent women as submissives because he’s not looking to control someone 24/7 (not to mention the conversation is far better). He wants us to think for ourselves. He wants the best for us. He’s still good friends with his former submissives. Hardly sounds like they fled from him, huh? He walked one down the aisle as her bridal attendant and she counts him as her best friend.

But I could talk about that ad nauseum and still not convince people. That’s okay. I know I’m in a happy and stable relationship. I know MasterDoc has not ever laid a finger on me in anger, and never will.

What’s Up?

Published on July 25, 2011 in anxiety, depression, emotions, mental illness, musings, stress, trust, Uncategorized and venting. 6 Comments

This post probably won’t be overly sexual, but just my way of blabbing about things on my mind. Hey, it’s been a week since I blogged, at least this is something, ya know?

I’ve been very sad the past day or so as someone I liked a great deal has decided that I’m a liar. This person seems to be suffering from delusions, but as I’m not a medical professional and only know what’s been on their twitter feed, I have no way to know if that’s what’s truly happening. I backed off when things started happening in this person’s life (at first thinking all the stuff was really happening – why would I doubt someone who seemed completely sane? I still suspect that some things this person has asserted really have gone on.) but I would occasionally vaguely mention them in a tweet to indicate that I was a) missing them, b) supportive of whatever was going on, c) worried about them. I hadn’t emailed them in weeks but last Tuesday I sent one. When I didn’t get a response I was left to assume that maybe their email was still compromised in some way.

Let me say as an aside, that my thinking this person is mentally ill is not meant to be a derogatory comment. I suffer from depression. I’m mentally ill. I understand that if someone’s ill it can be hard to see it and impossible to control it. I hope this person gets help – or that I’m wrong about my suspicions of their mental state.

I had backed off reading their twitter because even though I cared about this person I barely knew, I couldn’t do a damn thing and it was really up to them to get in touch with me. I would peek now and then, but wasn’t making sure to read all tweets like I had previously. Imagine my surprise when I looked Sunday morning a few minutes after they had tweeted something directed at me, calling me a liar, saying they don’t think I’m hacked (I never said I was so I don’t know where that came from) and to never email or tweet about them again. Ok. It’s hard to accept that someone I have done nothing wrong to thinks so badly about me, but if someone is mentally ill I don’t think arguing with them would help. So no more tweets, no more emails, and after this one post, no more mention of this person ever. I have no desire to bother someone who doesn’t want to hear from me. I have deliberately kept this explanation vague to give this person as much privacy as possible. I find it strange that they suddenly posted this message to me 6 days after I had last emailed (which was the first time in weeks) and 8 days after I had referred to them on twitter.

But I’m sad. I’m hurt. I’m disappointed. And I can’t do a damn thing but pick up and move on with my life. So I will. If this person happens to read my blog, hey, I’m not a bad person like you think I am but I doubt my saying so will matter. No need to tweet about not blogging about you, I won’t again and I’ve stopped reading your tweets anyway. Good bye and good luck.

___________________________________

So through the sadness I felt as I tried to process this strange turn of events, I reminded myself that I have MasterDoc. At the end of last week depression hit, but considering it was PMDD week, one day of mental illness was quite an improvement over the usual symptoms. (We’ve been playing with my birth control pill regimen – it’s useful to have a Dom who’s a doctor.) MasterDoc happened to be spending a night and morning with a playmate of his, and knowing he was going to the beach with her after I hadn’t seen him in a couple of days, and wouldn’t see him for a few days after just fueled my depression. When my mind goes wonky like that, I find things to obsess over. I focused on, “But he’s my Dom, he’s supposed to take care of me!”

Thankfully, I recognized the depression and I didn’t get angry with MasterDoc (not for long anyway and not when he was home). When he got home that afternoon I was happy to see him, got myself some cuddles and found out that he had in fact been concerned that going to the beach on the last day of my premenstrual issues was not a good idea. But hey, I survived. And spending time with him for the rest of that day was wonderful. It’s wonderful that I opted to shake off negative feelings towards him, and just bask in his affection. My mood improved greatly and my mood evened out enough to make it possible for me to get through the weekend alone without too much angst. (Except the section above.)

I also have fond memories of having sex with him earlier last week. The bond we feel and the way we both know how to touch each other so that the other person twitches with arousal is pretty amazing. Lately I had been having some insecurity thing about him not desiring me any more. That insecurity was mostly squashed after that night with him.

So I’m my usual ball of angst but I’m mostly keeping it in perspective. Time to get back on track with diet and exercise (during the heatwave we had this week I mostly didn’t exercise. The one time I did I thought I’d fall over and pass out with all the sweat I was losing despite being right in front of the air conditioner!), and focusing on the things I can change in life.

Happy Birthday and then the Rest

Published on November 21, 2010 in anxiety, bdsm, bored, caning, D/s, DeeDee, depression, exhibitionism, happy, humiliation play, kink, musings, orgasm on command, poly, sex, sex parties, sex toys, slump, spanking, sybian, Uncategorized and venting. 0 Comments

I had a wonderful birthday. Well, maybe not the time spent at work (this week sucked in that area), but MasterDoc really put effort into my birthday this year – something he usually doesn’t make a priority. (That’s everyone’s birthdays, not just mine. He’s not into birthdays or holidays.) Since he knows a little special treatment on my birthday means a lot to me, he went out of his way to make me happy. And I really appreciate it.

He took some time off from work to spend with me that evening, and then took DeeDee and I out for dinner at a nice Indian restaurant. (I voted to have her join us when he asked if I wanted that.) After dinner, we went back to his place and DeeDee settled down with the tv while I got some alone time with MasterDoc.

He had bought me a present and as soon as I saw the box – a Lelo box! – I was bowled over. I got the widest grin on my face and held the box close to me. He got me the Siri that I’ve been going on about wanting. He paid attention and got me something I so very much wanted and this touched me. (I LOVE the toy so far. Will keep me busy while I send my Gigi off for repair. It has suddenly started vibrating really loud and rattling.)

I got to use it that evening, and it is nice and intensely buzzy. He made me come a bunch of times – some by verbal command only, some by physical stimulation, some by fucking. He was very sweet and I found myself thinking, “Our dynamic hasn’t changed just because it’s my birthday. Make me suck your cock! Beat me!” I had asked specifically for a birthday spanking earlier in the day and I perked up when he gave me quite an intense spanking, one stroke for every year of my life and one to grow on. (Yeah, that was my idea when we had been talking earlier.) I really had a lovely time with him that evening.

The next night we went to the party where we were expected to do the coming on command thing. DeeDee was really nervous about doing it in front of a crowd, I was less so, but I can’t honestly say I wasn’t at all nervous. I know I’m incredibly conditioned at this point, but I was nervous nonetheless. MasterDoc got everyone’s attention. I had a blindfold on by then because I really just couldn’t look at the people. He explained what he was going to do, and then ran his fingers through mine and DeeDee’s hair as we sat on either side of him on a sofa. He gave the command, and despite our nerves we both came. I’m sure it was something to see. Even so, I’m glad I didn’t have to see the crowd around us.

Unfortunately, the party was uneven and I ended up feeling fairly frustrated and bored. The place was a decent space except it was freakin’ cold. I didn’t take my heavy cardigan off all evening. MasterDoc did cane, spank and make DeeDee and I come at the same time, our asses in the air. It was fun, but my mood was pretty dark.

I did manage to be a good sub for a change, and that night I kept quiet and positive as best I could. I felt tired and wanted to leave, but since MasterDoc brought the sybian (our entry fee) we had to hang out while the party host had various women take a ride. I was ready to leave a couple of hours before we actually got the chance to.

While my remembrance of that evening is pretty negative, I suppose there were many positives. I got to see someone very skilled do fire play. I was impressed by his focus and understanding of keeping the play safe yet stimulating. Our friend V. went to the party with us and she got the chance to do fire play with that gentleman a little later. I also had nice chats with various friendly perverts – the people who go to these parties are usually quite cool. I got to see Sofija a bit but she wasn’t feeling well.

But all in all, the party was a dud for me. I didn’t even want a sybian ride by the time it was offered. I just wanted something to eat and to go home.

MasterDoc treated us to the diner after, and this was a nice treat. V. came with us and it was definitely nice to hang out with her, even if the party wasn’t the best. I’m trying to be positive here. I was a total negative Nadia earlier today so I’m doing my best to perk up. But an evening alone wasn’t what was planned so I’m pretty bummed that’s how things ended up tonight. Shit happens, but it’s still frustrating and disappointing.

I wish this entry had more zing (and/or orgasms!) but I’m not feeling it tonight. Kinda like how we all felt at that party last night. I suppose not every day can be filled with magical bdsm orgasmic enchantment.

C’est la vie.

Protected: Blogger Drama or Real Issues?

Published on October 24, 2010 in anger, assault, blogs, Floating World, musings, trust, Uncategorized and venting. Enter your password to view comments.

Mid-30′s Crisis

Published on November 17, 2009 in anxiety, crazy, depression, derangement, embarrassment, emotions, happy, impulses, mental illness, monogamy, musings, neurosis, non-monogamy, poly, stress, Uncategorized and venting. 3 Comments

I had a meltdown today. It was a combination of factors. I turn 37 tomorrow. Like other women my age who have not had children I’m starting to get scared about the fact that every passing year my ability to have a child lessens. I’m not even sure I want a child. I get these little fantasies about having a little girl (yup, typical!) and teaching her things, taking her to her first day of school. But when I give it more considered thought I realize that I would have to drastically change my lifestyle. Obviously whoever I had the baby with would be the person I spent the most time with as we would be raising a child together. What would happen with my other relationships? It would be much harder to get away to spend time with MasterDoc, or go to a swing party, or get a good beating. Up until a couple of years ago, I was dead set on NOT having a child. And I figured if I changed my mind late in life I could adopt – because ultimately I don’t have the feeling that I have to give birth to a child to love it. I realized that I didn’t want to sacrifice my life enough to do so, and that knowing that and living childless would be the smartest option for myself and any child I could potentially have. If I’m going to parent I want to be committed to it 100%. But the question is, do I want to commit to it 100%? Or even 60%?
So I’m going through this “baby” crisis I’m sure other women my age have gone through. I worry – will I get to old age and feel like I missed out on an important life experience? Who will take care of me when I’m old? But on the other hand I’ve long had worries that I’d be like my mother and have a rough relationship with the child and I really am NOT close to my mother. Having a child doesn’t guarantee having someone around to take care of you when you’re old. I think this has also hit now because over the past three years or so suddenly my friends went from being all unmarried and without children (with rare exceptions) to some of them being married, having kids, settling down. Or being a bit older and having done the family thing and now moved on to enjoying the time they have now that their kids are grown.
There’s also the fact that I could see myself co-parenting with MasterDoc, but as he’s in his mid 50′s he’s not interested in starting over again. He has a kid in college. He has a lifestyle he’s presently happy with. While there have been men in their 50s (or even older) who have fathered children, it’s understandable that most people in their 50s (and up) don’t want to start all over again. And while Davey adores me and would do the family thing if I really wanted one, he doesn’t really want it himself and I think that we have enough similar weaknesses that perhaps he’s not the best one to parent with. And again, do I actually want to do that anyway? Is the desire to have a child based on reality or based on hormones or a sense that time is closing its window for me?
So today I was in crisis. I’ve also been realizing that probably I won’t be as important as I’d like to be to MasterDoc (and that I’ve been terrible in taking Davey for granted). I wondered if I should break up with MasterDoc and go find another Dom who wants more closely what I do. We spent a very teary afternoon talking, and I made him feel terrible. AND I made myself feel terrible. I don’t really want to leave him. I have a wonderful time with him. My life is enhanced having him in it. So it’s not perfect, but you know, it’s really asking a hell of a lot for a relationship to be perfect. I have two wonderful, imperfect relationships with two good men who love me. Maybe I need to spend a little more time appreciating how happy I am much of the time.
I think part of the problem is that I suffer from depression – and so if I feel at all sad or dissatisfied I go off the deep end. I pull away. I bottle things up. I think in black and white. Negative thoughts spiral out of control in my head. And then like a volcano eventually I explode. It’s perfectly reasonable that I’m sad that things with MasterDoc will probably never be the intensity I’d like. But it’s not reasonable that I think it means I have to pull the plug on something that makes us happy.

I’m worn out this evening from the tears. I really do a bang up job of making myself unhappy. I was so utterly and completely miserable. I can’t believe that earlier today I was considering walking out of MasterDoc’s place and going home for good. A better indication of how this was depression rather than what I truly wanted is that I couldn’t picture doing anything other than committing suicide if I walked out of there. I pictured going home and putting my head in the oven. (Goes back to the old affinity I had for Sylvia Plath as a depressed teenager.) I felt horrible. I felt horribly unhappy. I only focused on the imperfect things and forgot the wonderful (perfect even!) facets of my relationship with him. I got extremely morbid and started figuring out that I have enough money in my bank accounts to finish off any outstanding medical bills and cover a funeral for me. I saw no future other than a dark tunnel and death.

I need to spend more time thinking about this baby issue, but thinking about how my life would change if I did it, rather than the idealized fantasy. Life is not one big idealized fantasy. I espouse polyamory virtues right and left but then I find myself thinking that I need to have one relationship meet all my needs. I have more than one relationship of value in my life. I need to start focusing on that. I think I need to deprogram society’s monogamous ideal from my head even more. I can’t see myself not being with Davey or MasterDoc. Why on earth do I feel that I need to focus on one relationship? When I was monogamous, I was never quite happy that I couldn’t explore things with other people.

The sad part is that I may be making up things to be unhappy about. I may be dwelling on things I don’t even want in reality.

Sex Work and Stigma

Published on May 6, 2009 in intellectual freedom, library, sex work awareness and venting. 0 Comments

I wish someone would take away my computer when I’m premenstrual/depressed. I got all sorts of cranky this morning – and when it comes down to it it was hormonal. Do you ever find yourself acting awful, being contrary for the sake of being contrary, and somehow you can’t stop yourself doing it even as you look on in horror? This morning, despite being glad that the NYC sex bloggers are doing another calendar to promote Sex Work Awareness (something I fully get behind) I got picky and decided to throw a hissy because I don’t see any fat chicks in the calendar. Was this fair? No. It turns out the women who are in the calendar asked to be and will gladly be showing their faces in support of Sex Work Awareness – fat girls were more than welcome to join their ranks. It got me thinking, would I show my face? I don’t have a problem showing my fat body, but I worry that my job could be in jeopardy for doing something like posing for a calendar that supports sex workers. My union would probably support my right to do what I want in my private time but would that be enough? How secure is my civil service position? It’s something that I’d like to do, but of course worry about the repercussions.

A few years back a librarian in Washington was fired for being a dominatrix in her spare time (and posting for clients on the internet). She wasn’t doing anything illegal but her sexuality was suddenly made conversation material in her town and she was fired. (Not to mention shamed by some of her community. Not to mention this was reported nationwide in librarian publications.) Would doing a cheesecake photo for a Sex Work Awareness fundraiser have the same effect? If I were to participate, my face would be associated with my blog pseudonym, and it would be linked to this blog, where I’ve talked about things like doing sex work myself (i.e., the shows MasterDoc and I sometimes do) – nothing illegal, I don’t put illegal things on my blog, but enough that people could freak out and decide to take away my job like that librarian in Washington. My rebellious side wants to go do it, because after all I have the right to do it – but the last thing I need to do is lose my job – and so I haven’t said I’d like to pose. (With the recession my library is suffering deep budget cuts like so many across the country. I don’t need to serve them my head on the chopping block.) I wish we lived in a place and time where doing something like backing sex work awareness wouldn’t possibly lead to losing your job. Has such a time and place ever existed? We like to think we’re so free, but really we’re not. If we’re truly free then people should be able to make a living doing sex work if they so choose. But the stigma is obvious when you think about how bad the stigma can be for simply supporting sex workers and their rights. (I understand that it’s possible for me to be outed as the writer of this blog, but I do my best to maintain plausible deniability when I write here. It’s a risk I take.)

So I won’t step forward to be a model (though I really wish I could, I want to be a part of this), but I will talk about Sex Work Awareness here and promote what they do. Sex workers are human beings – a concept we need to promote to the public at large. Here’s a wonderful PSA that came out of their first session of their Speak Up media training workshop.

Sadistic Streak

Published on November 21, 2008 in sadism, stupid people and venting. 0 Comments

I’ve been feeling a bit blase about blogging and twittering this week. I have this persistent feeling of being an outsider in the blogger community, and it’s probably just my own insecurity talking. At any rate, I did experience something amusing today and I thought I’d share.

I was feeling my oats so to speak today. MasterDoc left me in the car, double parked, as he went to pick up his repaired laptop. A spot opened up, so I decided to take it rather than staying double parked. Well, as is common in squeezing into small parallel parking spots in NYC I lightly bumped the bumper of the car in front of me. All would have been fine but the guy whose car it was was inside the computer repair shop. He comes out, furious and starts berating me for hitting his 2009 car. I first go the concilliatory route and say, “I’m sorry. I am sorry,” in response to his bitching. But then my spirited side got in the mix and I said to him, “It’s the city, what do you expect?” Fact is, there was no mark on his car and if he hadn’t been right there he would have had no idea I bumped him. I get really annoyed with people who make their cars this huge priority. It’s a fucking car. You use it to get from place to place. A tiny scratch on your bumper is so fucking inevitable in New York City. Get over it.

So I’m in this spirited mood as MasterDoc and I go on to lunch. We’re passing the restaurant, looking for parking. Yes, parking in New York City. As you can imagine spaces are at a premium. One opens up just in front of us down the road and we go to take it, when a limousine driver cuts in front of us from the other side of the street and makes a u-turn to get the spot. MasterDoc is not having any of this, and as the guy goes to back into the spot he pulls in head first. So we end up in this stand off with the limo driver where neither of us quite in the spot and neither of us is willing to budge.

I settle in for the wait and say, “Oh well guess we’re sitting here for a bit.” Heh. MasterDoc says that’s something he likes about me – I get into the spirit of the thing. The limo driver had so obviously been a dick that a guy comes along walking down the street and he tells him off as he walks by. *chuckle* MasterDoc returns a call as we sit and I feel great delight in being more stubborn than the limo driver. Eventually, the limo driver gives up, makes a rude gesture to us as he pulls away and we chuckle and park the car.

As we walk to the restaurant the limo driver passes by saying, “Bastard!” And I just think this is the funniest thing in the world and burst out laughing at him, loudly. At that point MasterDoc comments on how I seem to have a sadistic side, and after some thought I have to agree. When someone’s being a total dick I take great pleasure in making them suffer. I thought the limo driver’s anger was hysterical. I would have taken great pleasure in flogging him or trampling his nuts or something. I’m so often the submissive/bottom/masochist I forget that occasionally, just occasionally, I take delight in the suffering of others. I don’t think this little tidbit will turn me into a switch, but just know that even though I’m submissive, I’m not a doormat and I can be bitchy when the occasion calls for it.

This reminds me of something I was saying to MasterDoc recently. He asked me what I was thinking one time when I looked lost in thought. I said that I was contemplating if I was switch, I could find a submissive man to do my chores around MasterDoc’s for me. I could sub-contract them out. He thought that was pretty funny and I have to say some days I wonder if it’s a viable option. I’m hardly a Domme, so I don’t know I’d have much to offer a sub man, but perhaps there’s one out there who takes joy in serving and would like being treated like a beloved pet. A girl can dream.

Irritation

Published on October 26, 2007 in monogamy, slut and venting. 0 Comments

I’m irritated by the fact that being a slutty woman in this world still isn’t socially acceptable. I’m pretty comfortable with my slut-dom and the men I date are pretty happy with it as well (they’re usually sluts themselves) but occasionally I find myself judged for it. Case in point, MasterDoc and I have been looking to meet a woman for a threesome. We’ve started talking to a few women and I ended up talking with one of them on the phone the other night. I thought it went okay but she turns around and tells him today that she’s not comfortable with the fact that I’m promiscuous and not in a live-in relationship with him. She’s assumed that we’re just nice, monogamous people looking for a third. Naive assumption at best. Neither of us is monogamous. She’s looking to cheat on her husband but the couple she’s going to sleep with must be non-slutty? I’m really annoyed. So she’s still interested in him (and why wouldn’t she be? She likes intelligent men and he’s a smartie.) but I’m a big slut she doesn’t want to touch with a ten foot pole. (She also didn’t seem to find my conversation with her to be stimulating enough – of course she was the one giggling and stammering like a little schoolgirl.) It’s also interesting to note that I’ve slowed down my sleeping around as of late and have to clear everything with MasterDoc before I sleep with anyone new. (Little does she know that I’m going to fuck anyone he tells me to come Saturday night.) The only people I’m sleeping with on any regular basis are Davey and MasterDoc. I only get to see D.S. on occasion. I realize that to the average, monogamy-minded person this is too much but quite frankly I think it is well within reason.

Why is that being an open and honest person gets you nowhere, but if I was a lying cunt I’d be knee deep in pussy? People blather on about honesty and how important it is to them, but the fact is they can’t handle the truth. Sex is risky – it will be with anyone who’s not a complete and utter virgin. You don’t have to be promiscuous to have an std and being promiscuous doesn’t mean you have one.

Grr. I’m just irritated. Ultimately I’m happy with my sex-positive, horny, liberated life. Fuck women who can’t handle that. They can stay in their unhappy, sexually repressed monogamous marriages. *grumble*