A story unlocked in brain just now.

When I was 18 I did a stint of trying out a lot of 1st dates with guys from Yahoo Personals.

I somehow managed to strike out with some total dweebs.

Come to think of it I really had terrible luck there.

Case in point, this guy:

He was a few years older- mid 20s and lived the next town over from where I worked. After chatting online and on the phone for a bit we made plans for him to stop in the store where I worked to say hi and meet face to face briefly. He never showed up, though he said he did and chickened out.

Hrmm…perhaps.

But nonetheless we scheduled a date. We were supposed to go bowling. But the bowling alley was so smokey and gross so we wound up at a movie. Ocean’s 12 I believe. We had a nice enough time. Though 3 years later nothing really even sticks out about him or the date. We parted ways in front of his house at the end of the night; I’m pretty sure there was a good night kiss.

A few days later while chatting he wanted to know why I didn’t come in at the end of the night.

Um, because you didn’t ask me!

Seriously! Some boys! I was no prude, even at 18. And even though I wasn’t so terribly into him I would’ve fucked him if he asked. My standards were much lower then.

But my mind was changed once he told me that didn’t actually want to date me because I was underage and couldn’t go out drinking with him and his friends. For real? Alright, that’s fine.

After that exchange what prompted me to go spend the night is beyond me. But I was a little desperate. I was in my dorm at the tail end of the semester, there were only about 3 or 4 days before I went home for Christmas break, and there was no heat- during a cold spell (I later learned I needed to request the heat be turned on). It was seriously so cold in my room I wore my coat and mittens to bed. I didn’t shower for a few days because I couldn’t bear the thought of being wet and naked in my 30 degree room. And when I did change in the morning, I turned the shower on high in the bathroom and got changed in the warm bathroom.

So when he offered me a reprieve from freezing for one night I jut snatched it up- with the knowledge I wasn’t interested in any hanky panky.

Oh how naive I was.

I was happy to curl up in a warm bed.

I wasn’t so happy when his finger ended up in my ass. (Side rant: What is it with men putting unlubed fingers up my ass?? It happened all the time when I was escorting, too.)

I don’t remember the events of the night very well. I remember going down on him and I remembered he smelled like ass- gag.

And I know I felt stupid for putting myself in that position.

And then it occurred to me just now thinking of this story, and reading people’s accounts lately of sexual assault that that’s what this was. I don’t remember anymore if I protested, and if I did, to what extent. But he used my cold room situation to his advantage. And God knows he had power over me since I was only 18, and a pretty naive one at that.

It’s odd to think it’s a night that doesn’t even stand out in my memory.

That one night with Ben made more of an impact- and that wasn’t even assault. He was just a jerk that made me feel cheap and used.

Then there was the night with the horrible orgy guest last year. And even though I didn’t want to use the exact language of assault or rape at that time, the fact is I had told the guy I wasn’t interested, however feebly, and he still put his dick in me. On more than one occasion.

Yet it barely fazes me. My attitude toward sex is no different. My attitude toward myself didn’t change. Why is that? What is it about me that can be completely unaffected by such violations?

Is it as simple as just saying I’m not prone to PTSD?

Does it have something to do with the emotional brick wall I’ve spent 20 years building up?

Unless of course someone might think it has affected me and I just don’t see it.

When I was a teenager I always assumed I’d fight back if I were put in a compromising situation. It’s almost taught to girls that if you’re grabbed in a dark alley it’s ok- and encouraged- to fight like hell. But they don’t teach us anything about what to do when it’s your date, or boyfriend- someone you know. And who would even think to teach about what the right thing to do at an orgy would be?

Then there’s the fact that I get all hot and bothered thinking of being able to do a rape scene- having the opportunity to fight back tooth and nail (though I want to lose in the end, otherwise where’s the fun?). Am I supposed to wonder whether it has to do with reclaiming power from the times I didn’t say no more clearly? I don’t, but it sometimes seems like I should.

I don’t even remember the name of that guy from 3 years ago. I didn’t even remember the night until today. And you know, that’s fine by me. Because I’d rather remember that hot sex I had last week, or the week before, or the week before, for the week before that.

I don’t have a code or anything, I couldn’t find a place to get one, but a lot of bloggers are writing for RAINN this month- with April being Sexual Assault Awareness Month. So please donate if you can, because so many more women out there need the help of caring individuals to overcome sexual assault. Visit rainn.org for details.

Maybe I’m just feeling contemplative.

I’ve been thinking a bit about my past- high school and some unfinished business from then.

And my future.  My relationships.  Graduating.

I feel very disconnected from a lot of people these days.  Some friendships have fallen to the wayside, as I generally expect to happen.  It’s a little disheartening.  Gia’s gone.  Wendy’s gone.  Noelle have barely spoken this year.  My roommate and I will be parting ways in just 4 weeks.  I don’t anticipate a relationship beyond that.

(These probably aren’t the best posts to write at 3am.  With Mika’s “Any Other World” playing.  Or perhaps it’s the best situation.)

Unfortunately I didn’t get to it until the tail end of my therapy session this week (which have been going well by the way), but I’m starting to feel like there’s something wrong with me.  Or something.

I’ve never been able to keep friendships.  I always just grew apart from people.  I would contact people less and less and neither would they call.  And then I just never felt a need to look back.  Even with my best friends.

My relationship with Jefferson is one of my longest.  A few more months and it’ll bypass my best friend from high school which lasted a little over 2 years I guess.  Except I think I had a friend in grade school for like 3 years.

And even though I’m still attached to Jefferson something’s just changed.  It’s like if he’s not in front of my face he doesn’t exist to me.  I can’t feel it.  I have to constantly remind myself how I feel about him because all I feel is like a distant memory of something.  Like, “Oh yeah, that’s the guy I love so much.  Almost forgot about him.”

I don’t know what that is.

I’ve stopped e-mailing unless I have something really pertinent to say.  Which is fairly infrequent.  Save for scheduling coffee or lunch with him around my therapy I’ve stopped asking for dates.  Partly because I know he’s busy with the moving.

Partly because it just feels so superficial.

But it isn’t, right?

How can I feel such love and happiness when I’m with someone yet feel so disconnected when I’m not?  Wouldn’t that mean that it’s just fake?  And forced?

Can you fall out of love?  I used to think you couldn’t.  That if you stopped loving someone then maybe you never really loved them in the first place.

A part of me still loves Casi.

None of me loves Michael, nor do I believe I ever really did.

But I did fall in love with Jefferson.  A couple times actually.

I don’t understand how it can feel so empty though.  I don’t know what it means.  And if I don’t know what it means does that mean I can’t fix it?  If I can’t fix it will it happen again?

These are the things I think about.  I suppose I worry and obsess too much.  You should’ve seen how upset I would get before I picked a major.  Part of it’s my upbringing I think- a fair amount of time spent in therapy.  My 2 years at boarding school which provoked a lot of internal reflection.  And now I’m back in therapy in order to tackle these things in me.

All I know is I don’t want to be alone.  Maybe I should change it to not wanting to feel alone.  Because there’s not a whole lot worse of a feeling than feeling lonely in a room full of people.  I’ve been there.  It stinks.

Of course at the same time I say I don’t want to be alone, I sit here with these walls heavily guarding me preventing me from any long term, meaningful bonding.

*Sigh*

Quite the predicament I’m in.

I think I must sleep now.

Something’s festering inside.

I have this ojeda.

I don’t know what it’s about or who it’s towards (there’s always a who!).

But it’s bugging me.

I’m sure you’ll hear about it when I know more.

Ok, carry on.

I’m having lunch with my father today.  It’ll be the first time I’m seeing him since Christmas ‘06- and we’ve been basically estranged since Sep. ‘06.  We’ve only spoken on the phone a few times when I’ve had to call him about insurance stuff.  The lunch will be fine.  We’ll be polite and cordial.  It’s just going to feel weird having him back in my life.  And I really don’t actually want to hash anything out.  Like, ever.  I pretty much just want to keep him at arms length.  That will be best I think.  The question is now- to show the tattoo, or not to show the tattoo?  Is a nose ring and a tattoo too much in one day?  Lol.

Last night I went to the DSF meeting at Paddles with Jocasta and Zelda.  Lolita was teaching on poly.  She sure does have a lot of great stories to tell!  While sitting through the class, I came up with this pondering- Would I have persued poly if I hadn’t met Jefferson?

And, to also consider- is this how I want to continue?  Obviously my situation frustrates me because even though I care very much for the people in my life, it’s just filled with play partners when we all know I really want a partnership.  A “primary,” if you will.  So will finding a primary partner alleviate my frustration or is poly potentially just not for me in actuality?  Or do I only care because it’s that time of the month and this is generally the only time I really get frustrated about this stuff?

We’re just gonna mull over those ideas for a bit.

After the meeting, while Jocasta was getting her birthday spanking from Lolita, Boymeat showed up and I some how became a punching bag, being volleyed between Boymeat’s fist and Jocasta’s X’s foot.  Then Lolita joined in and I felt like a pinball bouncing around in a game!  And then I started crying.  I was already feeling emotional, and then being hit will really just bring it to the surface.  Not exactly the right time or place, for me, to do that.  But it made me think that a “frustration scene” could be really cathartic for me at this moment in time.

OK, I think that’s all for now.

I’m starting to wonder if maybe I like kink just a tiny bit more than sex.

I’m happier to get beaten up without getting fucked then I am to have sex and not get beaten up (at least on a regular basis).

Plus- an orgy with no kink? Meh.

An event, like Dark Odyssey without kink? I’d rather save my money!

I would seriously rather not have sex at Winter Fire then not get beaten up (or beat someone else up as was my mood at camp). Sex I can get anywhere. That’s easy.

But kink? That’s much harder to come by for me. On a good month I may have played twice. And that’s a good month!

A good month of sex is 4 or 5 dates!

Quite disproportionate.

And yet, it’s not as if I don’t fuck guys who are kinky! My circle of friends and playmates is really becoming almost entirely kinky in some form or another.

Ahhh…that’s bliss.

Maybe it’s so disproportionate because I’m slightly picky about who I’ll let top me- and it what kind of ways.

I’m certainly a snob for skill. Skill is way sexy.

Chemistry most definitely plays a factor.

Harry didn’t make the cut because he lacked skill, couldn’t provide the aftercare I needed, and just in general said stupid stuff.

As nice as Denzel is, I don’t actually feel any sexual chemistry between us.

And there are some who I have chemistry with- just not a top/bottom kind of chemistry.

This kind of stuff can get complicated.

Perhaps maybe things are even more complicated by the kind of bottom I’m becoming. I play a lot harder than I did 2 years ago. And I’m only continuing further on that path.

If you had told me a year ago that I would be into piss play and humiliation and even service I would have laughed so hard at you! I would’ve thought you’d lost your mind if you ever even suggested I might try anything that draws blood.

Now, name most things I haven’t done or are slightly scared of I just say to give me some time. Because it really is only a matter of time.

I’m in no rush, and I have no goals about what I want to become.

I’ve already gotten a reputation of being hardcore by some, but I look at others I consider heavy players and even fathom that I’m in the same league as them.

I guess it’s all a matter of perception. The person who deemed me hardcore was fairly vanilla himself.

I think maybe even though I don’t have concrete goals about how I see my path continuing, I do sort of want to be known as heavy player. And not because it’s cool or because it’s better- but it’s because that’s how I see myself playing.

Anytime someone even mentions the word “sensuous,” I turn in the other direction. I don’t want a sensuous top. I don’t want a sensuous scene. I want to be hit, and I want to be hit hard, and I want it until I can’t take it anymore.

Am I being clear enough?

I hope so.

Ok, I was going to post a video of Billy Joel’s “Only the Good Die Young” but I couldn’t find a video I really liked.

Oh well.

Sometimes my own emotions and reactions surprise me. Which really shouldn’t surprise me. It’s probably a good thing my Xacto knife is covered in plaster. And that I’m too lazy to dig for anything else suitable.

I’ve been fighting on and off (mostly on) with Jefferson for the past like 3 weeks I guess now. Which is so unlike us. I’ve been picking fights. Practically about the same thing.

I don’t even know anything anymore. And all this fighting is quite draining.

But I probably won’t be satisfied until I’m push him completely away.

And then who’s next after that?

Some days I wish I could push everyone away. Be rid of the relationships and friendships I feel like I’ve invested so much of myself into these past bunch of months. Sometimes I just feel suffocated.

And so vulnerable.

He was supposed to be my best friend. The one person I trusted would never hurt me or leave me.

Except for nearly our entire relationship I’ve tried all I can to make him walk away.

And how many times have I been hurt?

Maybe I’ve been fooling myself these past 6 months. Maybe I’m just not the people person I’ve been trying to be.

Last week was jam packed with socializing but I think I’ll be staying couped up these next couple of weeks. Feels safer.

Soap and water would clean plaster off, right? (Edit: Yep, comes right off. Note to self: don’t wear cream colored robe when blood’s involved.)

I only wish I knew how to calm and center myself without needing the comfort of someone else. Because I’ve pushed them all away and I’m alone now.

Have I ever mentioned how much I hate the night sometimes?

This is a post I’ve been contemplating for a little while, but it’s probably going to end up as a bit of rambling, so do try and bear with me.

Back in September when I was writing about camp, I gushed about how lucky I felt being able to really know my sexuality and fully embrace it at such a young age. And really, it’s quite true. I know there are people who anguish for years over repressed sexual urges or whatever, but with me, I just woke up and knew exactly what I wanted for myself and what was true for me.

I’ve known for quite some time I was extremely sexual. I’d been experimenting with different sensations in my body since I was a young girl. I was probably 8 or 9 when I discovered putting things in the butt can feel good. I was getting in trouble for internet porn by 10. And I was signed up on Adult Friend Finder at 17.

As soon as I graduated high school, at 18, I just instantly knew I was kinky. I don’t even remember how I discovered it. I just did enough internet browsing, came across “BDSM” and was hooked instantly. I just didn’t know at the time how much of an integral part of my sexuality it would become.

And I never questioned it. I still don’t. I never questioned whether it was right or wrong, or the why of it. It’s right for me and that’s all that matters. And the why? Whether it’s something about my biology or childhood experiences, does it really matter? No, not so much.

But sometimes…sometimes it feels like a burden. That because of my proclivities, my selection of men that I could potentially build a life with shrinks drastically. I can’t date normally. I can’t just meet a boy in class or a bar or even a vanilla dating site.

I’ve tried that. It hasn’t worked.

Even meeting Casi off of AFF didn’t manage to work out because our libidos were so mismatched. Our relationship disintegrated in 3 months because I wasn’t getting the sex I needed (more than once a month). And forget about getting him to be kinky!

As terrible as the relationship was though, I find myself missing it- 2 years later. I ache for that sense of comfort and stability. We wanted to be together and we had a routine.  It was nice.

And I don’t know how to get something like that back.

Because I can’t give up the canes and the floggers and the rope. And camp! How could I give up camp?! And how do I give up Jefferson and Boymeat and Match and all the other guys whose company I’ve come to enjoy (to put it quite mildly). And then the girls!

“Good girls” give up their slutastic life to eventually settle down and grow up.

But I’ve never claimed to be a good girl. And I certainly have never claimed to want to grow up.

To me, BDSM is like eternal childhood. There’s a reason we call it “play.” Because it’s fun.

How do I have fun and at the same time find love and companionship?  It’s proving to be quite difficult so far.

Of course it doesn’t help that I keep falling for the wrong men.

It’s frustrating.  To say the least.  I’m wary to let myself like someone.  I don’t want to invest time and feelings only to be disappointed in the end.

As it is, there’s someone I’m starting to develop feelings for and I’m cursing myself because I don’t see it becoming anything.  I can’t even imagine him liking me the same way.  I’m not sure if that’s self-doubt or self-protection (perhaps a little of both?).  All I know is I’m already failing at my New Year’s resolution to love with more abandon.  It’s only February and I’m most concerned with keeping my heart more guarded than ever.  Both from friends and lovers.

That’s more the me I’m used to.  But it’s not who I want to be anymore.

I was 16, and home from high school for spring break. It was late, after midnight probably, and I was on the computer in a chatroom (it was only 2003 after all). One thing lead to another, and I was chatting with a 19 year old guy from a few towns over. And we started putting together a plan to meet that night. For sex.

When I was 16.

And a virgin.

Well, the plan was, since I couldn’t drive, he would pick me up and take me back to his place, where of course he lived with his parents. And you know, I don’t think I ever got a picture of him before the deal.

So I waited outside for him with my cell phone and hopped into his car when he pulled up.

And ew. He was so gross. Very heavy, funky hair that looked like it was thinning (at 19!), and he kind of smelled- a mixture of stale cigarette and old B.O. Yet off I went with him.

We got to his house (after stopping for cigarettes and condoms) and talked for awhile before doing anything. But eventually we got to the icky stuff.

We kissed, and I was grossed out having his tongue in my mouth. We disrobed, and I was totally uncomfortable with being naked with him. He went down on me first, and I really didn’t know what to make of it- it was warm and wet and just weird.

Then I went down on him and it was just as weird. I barely had a clue what to do. And he didn’t smell too nice down there, so I had to try not to gag. Then he came; in my mouth; all of the sudden. God, I was so horrified, I spit it right out onto the be.

We didn’t go any further than that that night. Thank God.

We dressed, and I had to search for my underwear, and then he drove me home sometime around 4.

But really, that was of course the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, and lived to tell about.

(Note: Apparently it takes the boredom of class to spark inspiration to write. No wonder I couldn’t write during break then.  So maybe I can get lots written since I have lots of boring classes!)

Quotes and links I’ve collected recently from different places on the internet because I thought them interesting, or funny, or thought provoking:

*sings to the melody of The Sound of Music*
Fishnets & oral & touching & teasing
Kissing & sucking & biting & licking
Bondage, shibari, hand cuffs & ice cubes
These are a few of my favorite things!

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True masters, true subs and slaves, X many years in the lifestyle, Old Guard this and High Protocol that–it’s like a convention of D&D nerds were allowed to have sex once, and they decided to make a religion out of it.

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You limits are not absolute no’s. They are expressions of real concern, hesitancy and perhaps fear that “maybe” in the right hands, under the right circumstances these are areas you could go. (So true!)

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god reminds me of a fellow nineteen year old. isolated, confused, optimistic, blue, nerdy kid with more responsibility it can be very overwhelming. i bet he listens to his ipod alot, and i bet it’s a bitchin’ sweet one too! 

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Overused words and phrases- Oddly Enough Article

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Interesting butt plug, JT’s Stockroom

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Twins separated at birth- another Oddly Enough Article 

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And for fun, an excerpt from my diary, Fall 2004 (age 18) (And I’d eventually like to get into the back story of what went on with my ex, Michael)
i’m getting to be a real slut though.  i think i have a problem.  i’m not treating sex right.  it has no emotional meaning for me anymore.  i don’t even do it to get off.  that’s the weird part.  like i don’t care if i cum.  that’s not the point.  i mean i don’t.  well, i did yesterday when rick went down on me, i think.  well, i must not have if i’m not sure.  but it was fucking good.  and he did it a lot.  it was so good.  he was like gross.  i mean, like old and kinda fat.  not really a turn on.  but he was sooo good at that.  i was gonna meet him today for a threesome, but the plans got mixed up.  i was relieved.  i’m not sure if i should still go through with it.  for the sake of my relationship with michael , i should stop all together.  but like i can’t.  i dunno.  i’m like doing this instead of cutting, cause sometimes i’d love to do that.  especially right after sex.  hmmm…but the sex is actually keeping me from doing it cause if i’m meeting guys, i don’t want cuts and shit on me.  micheal’s the only guy that’s seen me with fresh cuts.  and that was the first time i met him too.  i haven’t even cut since may.  so no biggie.  but i’m not eating again.  i wanna be skinny sooo badly.  i need to start working out again.  cause the diet pills only do so much.  and i haven’t spoken to my therapist in 2 weeks.  she pissed me off.  i guess i’m waiting for her to call me first.  i like not going though.  she gets on my nerves too much.  she’s the only one i feel comfortable talking about sex to though.  i mean i know what i’m doing is bad.  and i know i’m doing it cause i’m unhappy and i don’t like myself.  i know i’m trying to fill something.  and i know that when i’m asking for it hard and rough i’m trying to create that pain i know i would feel from cutting.  and i guess punishing myself too in a way for hurting michael.  

Putting the negativity behind the cut…

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