Apr 172017
 

While my ex-husband and I were hitting the nail in the coffin of our marriage and making a messy muck of it, we would often use the term “now or never”.

I started it, I think. I started it on the drive out to him, where I told him it was his girlfriend or me. He had to make a decision immediately as I didn’t want to waste any more time driving. Perhaps it makes sense why I issued that ultimatum, but it was still a manipulation ploy.

I also used it when I was stuck in my hometown with nowhere else to go after that long drive. I used it under the context that kids would be in school, I would get a job because I had to, and I needed to know where to settle. “Make up your mind now, you have about two weeks, and then we’re stuck in this town,” I told him desperately. It was the truth, but the truth can still manipulate. I was hoping to press him to get what I wanted.

We reconciled a few times in the Spring, if reconciling meant fucking up each other’s minds and occasionally fucking. So many tears, so much confusion. We would lash out and hurt each other just to keep some distance, come back and apologize between sobs and blame. We didn’t see each other all that frequently, and the few times were in secret.

Clearly, while I spoke the truth, it wasn’t now or never, as I kept pushing back the timeline. Over the summer, surely I could change schools, find another job. Yes, it was even more complicated, but wasn’t it worth it? We really committed over the summer, broke up with our partners and attempted to work towards us. If committed meant throwing ultimatums, mostly from him this time: give up the blog, only write fiction, delete the past lovers, move to me, give me writing assignments, work on your issues – I don’t have any; now or never.

I tried to compromise the most I was ever willing to over the summer, being so heartbroken and lost in life by then that I didn’t know who I was anymore. I wasn’t willing to give up the blog but compromised what it looked like, catered to all the other whims. After just a short time, he changed his mind when I complained that I was only one changing. Summer didn’t see us together for more than a few days without changing our minds, but it was a few days scattered once a week for the duration of it.

We had sucked the vitality of our love in our attempt to keep our relationship together; we were dry and empty. We should’ve known better, but fall saw us trying again. Now or never, I again stated, but this time he was compromising location – after all, by this point I was settled into the school year and just couldn’t do that to my family. We still worked out the terms of our reconciliation, but we were shaky.

This reconciliation lasted the longest – a whole two weeks. He procrastinated finding a job, I was helping him. Now or never, I echoed that so much, so desperate for what I felt was the last time. He visited me for a weekend, I visited him for a weekend.

I think that last weekend was truly our now or never. I was visiting my daughter, making her a priority, and plans in trying to work around her social calendar kept interfering with my ex and myself. Or perhaps our daughters’ schedule weren’t working out the way we planned – but the passion was gone, the desperation – from both of us. I think we both felt it. We were well and truly tired.

As I drove away from visiting him, he called me and stated that he didn’t think he wanted to continue. It wasn’t a new statement by any means, the difference being that I also didn’t want to continue.  We wished each other the best, felt that we would support each other if needed but space was needed far more for the time being, and went our separate ways.

A month later, my baby sister died. I called him hysterical and he seemed amazingly sympathetic, but while I was out there dealing with her body and possessions he became callous and self-centered. I couldn’t understand how he could make demands and requests of me in my grief – though to be fair at any other time I would have responded at least neutrally on what he asked of me. But it wasn’t any other time, it was a tragic heart-ripping moment.

I needed him now far more than I ever had before and realized it would never happen – not even as a friend.

Apr 072017
 

*Switch: A person who vacillates between dominant (I’ll also use topping) and submissive (bottoming) roles within relations.

So at the GRUE (conference/event), one of the most engaging things to me was a conversation about switching. It was looked down a lot, kind of the way bisexuality is at times: being too flighty to pick a side or not really knowing which side to choose rather than a valid choice and natural instinct.

In my new state, a lot of people identify as switch, by far the majority from what I’ve observed. Once in room full of people, the presenter asked how many identify as a switch and everyone but the presenter raised their hand. It’s a bit odd, but at the GRUE it made for an excellent conversation. Such topics were:

 How do you switch with another switch? My ex husband and I were both switches (to an extent, he was always a service top if he topped). Our dynamics were always very clear to us – there was no mistaking our role for whatever the occasion – a very strange and special knowledge of knowing each other so intimately. He would voice if he needed me to top him, otherwise the dynamic was he would top me. At times we would go for more of a primal, fight to be on top, role but that was even clearly telegraphed in an unspoken manner between us.

In speaking and listening to others at this conference, I realized just how rare and special that dynamic was as there was little conflict in just knowing what the other wanted and being so attuned as to grant it.

Mr. Texas and I are switches, and while we haven’t been together nearly as long and are no where near as attuned to each other, the agreement is for the most part he tops. We do have a few of these complications that others discussed of two switches being together; for example, sometimes it’s unclear who wants to bottom – I top far more than I ever did with my ex. We will also sometimes switch mid scene. The rule that is keeping us the most satisfied in this dynamic is regardless of who is on bottom at first, I cannot go from bottoming to topping. I just cannot get my head space right to submit and then dominate, whereas he can because he can only take so much pain, which brings me to my next topic that was discussed…

Many of them had triggers that would flip the switch. This shocked me to hear, as many of them discussed how mid-scene they would grab the implement they were being hit with and hit the person topping them. I have never felt this urge, it would not even occur to me. To me, that’s a consent violation unless it was agreed upon. I addressed perhaps a need to disclaim that in part of the negotiations to my fellow switches, as a collective group we were trying to come up to some solutions to some of the issues of being a switch.

Mr. Texas and I, prior to the GRUE, did not switch mid-scene. He would ask me to mid-scene after he topped me for awhile, but I always declined (again, can’t do the head space) until we came the agreement that the order could be reversed (I could go from top to bottom). What began as a negotiation and honest communication with what made us tick has worked to our benefit, as Mr. Texas doesn’t necessarily have a trigger that makes him flip roles – it’s more of a pain threshold that he can no longer tolerate but doesn’t want to call an end to. I am really having fun exploring my more sadistic side with Mr. Texas in a way that was unforeseen, but Mr. Texas is not a masochist (we both love each other’s reactions in this dynamic) so once he’s done but too stubborn to color, he simply grabs me and flips me under him, often with a hand around my throat – a simple and consistent action that always gets me in a submitting headspace.

What I have also discovered since the GRUE is that Mr. Texas does have a sensual trigger that makes me want to top me: when I am not obviously topping but being more playful, I will sometimes straddle him, tease him with my body, have the tip of his head right at my entrance and deny him, press my breasts against his chest, and nip at his neck. It’s really the nipping at his neck that triggers him, his moans turn into growls and he begins to grip and grab at me to position certain ways. This tends to turn into a fight for top but only briefly (nowhere near the savage intensity my ex and I played at, which I am fine with).

What’s the difference between switching and bratty. 

*Brat: Within the BDSM lifestyle, the term brat is usually applied to a person of a submissive nature who acts up or causes trouble in order to attract attention. This is generally frowned upon as it is classed as topping from the bottom and trying to control the situation.

I am not sure if the group ever could clearly define this question posed. Bratty also tends to have a negative connotation in the BDSM scene. I know that I am not bratty with Mr. Texas (except once when he asked for a picture while he was at work), but that I was occasionally bratty with my ex husband. Bratty is almost a challenge in my mind and Mr. Texas is new to this role so I try not to challenge him as he needs to gain confidence in it. I was a brat with my ex whenever I wanted his attention, most often when he would tie me and was more focused on the rope than me – a common occurrence. I have not been bratty to The Wanderer – again our dynamic has always been firm in roles, though I am playful at times to get him away from his serious nature, but never in a challenging way or to gain attention. I don’t know if I will be clearly defining the difference but switching is a role and bratty is a mood to me.

The need to address the things done incorrectly. How we know both sides of the coin and will invariably meet up with people that we’re more knowledgeable but will bottom for. It’s somewhat inevitable that the longer someone is in the lifestyle and educates themselves, that they will know more than the person topping them. It’s the case with Mr. Texas, as he knew nothing so I topped from the bottom as I taught him (which wasn’t the case with everything, some things he just instinctively knew), and I teach him what I do know. Sometimes it’s with demonstrating on him, sometimes it’s talking him through something, and sometimes it’s going to educational events with him. Regardless, it revolves around honest and authentic communication – something anyone with any amount of knowledge should do with the person they are engaging with.
*Terms defined by Urban Dictionary

Apr 042017
 

*For the month of April, I am going to purge my drafts of my off-and-on reconciliation attempts with my ex-husband last year. They are still painful, and will be incredibly rough drafts, as I am literally purging emotions and some bittersweet memories. I may also mix in some current stuff just to give myself a break, or to reflect where I am now.

*This was written four months after my ex husband asked for the divorce.Wicked Wednesday

“That’s some pretty intense scrutiny for someone who wants to start with a clean slate. Plus we have to be able to trust that we will both be able to forgive and move on, and yet I feel that you are looking for more reasons to leave.

This isn’t healthy, and it’s not working towards the trust we want to re-establish.”

This is a text I sent my ex-husband. It echoes so many other texts and talks and emails. It’s hard untangling all the ways that kept you connected to another person, and we sorted and shifted and disengaged through so many modalities – the downfall of a long term relationship and often a long distance one from being in the military.

He stalked me online – there is just no other to state that. These scenarios were both while we were separated and the few days every so often that we “reconciled”. I sent the both text while we were reconciled and he wanted to forget everything and start anew, just a few weeks after he asked for the divorce.

Of course, he had easy ways to do it – the blog, twitter. I blocked his twitter account, he created another. Told me I couldn’t stop him as twitter is fairly anonymous. Confronted me on what he was reading, though he no longer had that right. Told me I was breaking his heart, using a guilt tactic (and I’m sure it was true, but still used it as a manipulation ploy), so I told him to stop reading me, to stop trying to find out what I was up to if it bothered him so much. I asked that he at least have the decency to not lash out at me verbally.

He used a lost phone app and would track where I was, even using the sound system if I blocked his phone calls, and one point locking my phone (it ended up locking an old phone not my current one) when I still refused to talk to him. The app was deleted off my phone from that point forward.

He would call me and question whose phone numbers I was calling, why did I talk to them so much, threatened to call them up as well. We disentangled the phone bills – I was removed from his plan.

photo credit: Tom Simpson Space: 1999 monster via photopin (license)

Why was I in (x.y,z) place, what did I spend the money on? Another slippery hold untangled of our bank accounts separated, another knot that bound us cut and severed.

I blocked him on Fetlife, he created a fake account, pretended to be a female and befriended the new rope people I was making, reached out to me through Fet on this fake account and stated was new and shy, and was hoping to make my acquaintance since we knew the same people, asked to be friends – which I fell for because she/he was friends with my new acquaintances. All so he could see my pictures on Fetlife and see if I was up to anything new. He confessed this sometime in the summer, one moment while we were happy in a post sex haze and in each other’s arms.

He didn’t get through on other social media sites like Facebook (but then again, I was hardly on).

And shortly after that confession, he again told me it could no longer work (probably due to being resistant to compromise on my end because by that point I felt like it was more of control).

So his girlfriend took up the reins. He had already confessed that his girlfriend was just as crazy and stalker-ish as he confessed to, that she would go through his phone and sometimes text me like it was him – just to see what I would say. She would also email me, pretending to be him – one time specifically to see if I would be desperate enough to drive to the halfway point to fuck him “one last time”. He knew this, but never said anything to me until that post-haze sex confessional.

But what he didn’t share was that he would also text and email me hurtful things to push me away to prove to his girlfriend that he wanted nothing to do with me, so that he could share that information with her and reassure that all was right in their relationship and he had moved on.

What he didn’t expect was that she would email me after he shared an email he sent me (and that then shared my email address with her) and harass me since I had blocked her on as many different modalities as I did. I was protecting him, still months later, on his cheating on her with me. Once she harassed me through email, and he had just broken it off with me (again), I had had enough. Readers may remember the painful post where I finally published a draft called Dialogue with brand new ex, in which I stated just a few of the things we did within weeks after he requested the divorce. He had asked me to keep it a secret, and I had respected that wish through all the heartbreak of being off and on with him – but he he betrayed my trust too far in allowing her to harass me to such an extent.

I was unsure why she even felt the need.

She left him shortly after the blog post, and her and I had a quick heart to heart, mostly sharing how he played us both with his cruelty and sharing of information (because he would do the same things to me for reassurance of their communication).

I would like to say that she and I both learned our lesson and no longer had anything to do with him, but we did not. Even know, I find myself thinking of excuses for him on why he behaved the way he did.

I guess the biggest excuse for us all is that love makes us do crazy things.

Mar 272017
 

“Aren’t you afraid it will happen all over again?” Mr. Texas asked me as we drove back from a BDSM speed dating event. I thought it would be good for him to get out and talk to other people, perhaps find a play partner or two besides me. “Your husband got into another relationship and then left you.”

I winced, though I hoped it wasn’t obvious in the darkness of the car. “No,” I stated, though that was only slightly true. I was concerned Mr. Texas might leave me, but not because he found someone else. He might leave me because I want an open relationship and he doesn’t, or because we’re incompatible, or because I can’t be who I was when he met me, or because I tell him to get the fuck out of my life.  He may find someone else and leave me because she is more perfect for him than I am; that could happen even if we were monogamous. It could happen, and she’d be lucky to have him.

I could tie him to the bed when I’m gone and release him when I’m at home to keep an eye on him, could have sex all day long every day, could be the most fantastic lover, provide the most stimulating conversations and entertainment, drop weight or gain weight to be his ideal body, dye my hair blonde (his favorite), and still he could leave me.

But it wouldn’t happen because he met someone else more… it would happen because we aren’t that compatible in the long term scheme of things.

…Unless he goes through a midlife crisis, like my ex husband did. He’s also transitioning out of the military, like my ex husband did before he left me.

But still, it wouldn’t happen because he met someone.

So yes, I’m concerned it could happen all over again.
Wicked Wednesday

Feb 052017
 

Febraury Photofest

Wicked Wednesday

 

 

 

 

“I should just quit the scene now,” I told my friends at a dungeon as we were sitting around socializing. I was on a couch with a couple that I’m quite close to, the man was in the middle and the woman on the other side of him. She was laying across his chest so I could rub her arm, and my legs were draped across his lap so she could rub my legs. We aren’t sexual, just close.

A man had approached and began a conversation towards negotiating a scene with me. I mentioned that I’m a wimp with impact and pain. He had stated that he had seen me scene several times prior to approaching me.

It brought up the topic of scenes and what each of the four of us had experienced – mine far tamer in so many respects.

I mentioned how I see so many bottoms able to be thoroughly beat, displaying marks that I am quite envious of. “But I’m a wimp. I should just quit the scene now,” I halfheartedly joked.

Anyone who has played with me, with the exception of Mr. Texas because he was new to any kink, has heard something similar from me.

I’ve heard from tops pretty equally now on their views of lightweight versus heavy hitter views of bottoms, which leaves me feeling just as insecure that I will be seen as a lesser than bottom. Though I’ve also had two separate tops (The Wanderer, and the man who co-topped me) articulately discuss with me how that isn’t the case, especially from their perspective of the what’s-in-it-for-them. These men discuss how comparative doesn’t even come into play, that they play because of the individual, and stress beautifully that the reactions of the bottom (me) are what do it for them as a top. I’m very reactionary, and they love to play with me because of my reactions. If they are getting a reaction playing softer, then it’s less work for them even, and they are perfectly content.

My ex husband, after his girlfriend and while we were reconciling, told me while we were at a GRUE together that he missed playing with his ex girlfriend because he wanted to play harder and couldn’t – because I couldn’t handle it. He had watched a scene of two people playing roughly on the floor. He knew this was an insecurity of mine and approached it as almost a reason to not be with me (at least that’s how I felt). He especially liked how he could draw back and backhand her in the face without holding back.

Her kink is not my kink, and that’s okay.

Even wanting him back as much as I did, that was not an activity I was going to engage in. I could go into the whys like just not interested and I can’t bruise on my face due to my career; but it truly is as simple as that is not something that I am even remotely curious about experiencing. I’m not at all close, with the exception of that one horrible weekend, to giving into something just to be/play with someone else.

In conversing with the couple and how hard they play, the top stated that it was nice having different bottoms to get what he wants, because he loves to the play with the individual, but every so often he feels the urge to go hard and it’s nice to have someone who can provide that.

That was not going to be the case with my ex husband, as playing with others was a hard limit during our reconciliation.

Truly, though, I am okay with a multitude of play partners because each individual will bring a new experience and wealth of knowledge or reactions.

So, no, I’m not really going to quit the scene, though I feel anxious when being approached by someone new, and sometimes even playing with a prior partner the insecurities will creep up. But I find that I will always state in advance that I am a wimp and can’t handle much.

I can only hope that the person engaging in play with me gets something out of it as well.

Jan 262017
 

https://www.flickr.com/photos/martekristineo/5502801613

I agree with those that feel that a safe word is not needed, that no and stop should be exactly that.

I also agree with those that feel that a safe word is needed, that they don’t want their no and stop to always mean that.

I also realized that I need to be clear where I stand. I used to be the second option – I wanted the struggle, my instinct when something hurts is to say no and stop, but I can continue and I want my partner to push me.

I learned a very hard lesson in the complications of this negotiated use of safe words when I felt like I was forced anally, but he expected me to use my safe word.

“First and foremost, while my safeword did not occur to me, I did have one. My ex truly expected me to use it… I believe that he expected me to safeword if I felt that strongly about “no” after talking to him months later. And I truly did not even think about using a safeword, felt like my “no” and “stop” were enough; after all – just the day prior we discussed needing the safeword before a scene. I didn’t use a safeword with him just having sex with him – never felt that was needed.

Perhaps this is a horrible complication with using safewords, when stop and no don’t always mean stop and no.” – Consent with Anal

My ex and I did discuss safe words before every scene that we felt it was needed – and only the scenes that included impact (or our one time doing consensual non consent). Even in rope I didn’t use a safe word but gave a time that I needed out (even if it was immediately). So I understand why I did not think to safe word, we were just having sex, after all. I also understand why he felt that I would safe word – I do have and use my safe word and he trusted me in that.

So now I’m on the fence with safe words. I still use them, and I’ve been trying to get Mr. Texas to use them. I really like the “yellow” for change up or no further, and the “red” for can’t take anymore. I also, especially when I top him, realize that I am dealing with a man not used to coloring at all, so I listen to his body language,  his words, his noises, and his actions and proceed cautiously, stopping far before he colors. If I force him to color, I warn him ahead of time that is my intent and do only one action (like bite down) until he remembers to use it.

Again, though, I don’t believe that I should only stop when he uses his safe word. If I am playing to the edge it is with someone I trust and who trusts me, someone that I have played with many times before, someone that will know my tells and listen to my body language the same way that I do theirs.

My ex husband should have known mine, should have listened. But we are equally to blame for that scenario.

I still want my no and stop to not mean no and stop when I feel like struggling or fighting back, it is so hot to me that I will be held down or my cries will be ignored. It is also reassuring to me that my safe word will be respected, that I have a safe word.

But I need to start being more consistent with using my safe word, even if I am just having sex, because just having sex is very easily turned into something else once we’re naked and having fun. I need to not view sex as an activity isolated from BDSM, because it is not, and it rarely ever is just sex with me.

I can easily view how I am inconsistent: The Wanderer would never have to worry about me not coloring and using my safe word – we have a clear boundary of no intercourse and a partnership that’s foundation is BDSM. Neither would anyone that I played with in a dungeon or other kink event. Mr. Texas, however, may have to worry if he pushed for something I didn’t want to do – and that’s incredibly unfair to him; but I view us as having a sexual relationship first, exploring each other in BDSM second – and BDSM being new to him especially he needs to read other cues and listen to words (to an extent – he already has figured out my no rarely means no but I like the protest).

I am confusing as hell about using my own safe word and that isn’t fair to my sexual partner. I have learned that I cannot rely, either, on my partner and I consistently using a safe word only in certain scenes (like impact or consensual non consent).

It is up to me to clearly define and use my safe word to my partners, and to be consistent.

Jan 022017
 

“People are surprised you are able to keep on going at all, they compliment you all the time. They are surprised you haven’t crashed,” Mr. Texas commented, when I lamented that I haven’t been writing recently. I’ve barely been surviving on the domestic front either. Everything seems such a struggle.

“I am shocked I haven’t crashed yet either, I feel like it’s around every corner, could happen at any moment,” I replied, lying in bed, recovering from jet lag as I watched him wrap him Christmas presents that I had bought but had no energy to wrap after traveling to another country.

Mr. Texas takes excellent care of me, so much so that I’ve officially moved in with him. He even added that he felt like perhaps I won’t crash the way I fear because he is here to support me, not to mention that I’m on medicine right now to help me limp along with my emotional wreckage of a life. I hadn’t been sleeping to the point where I could no longer function – it’s amazing what some sleep and emotional stability can provide to functioning.

So let’s catch up my life to speed:

2016 greeted me with my husband wanting a divorce – which ripped my heart out and left me a shadow of my former self. The divorce also left me abandoned in my former hometown, looking for a new job and away from my support system of friends and my sister.

Somehow, during this stressful period, two men have been kind enough to care for me: Mr. Texas and The Wanderer. My relationship with both of them has been rocky, especially reconciling with my ex husband briefly, but they are supportive and patient through my struggles.

Before I felt fully myself from the divorce, my baby sister died unexpectedly. My family leaned on me, the way they always have for some odd reason (they say it’s because I’m the most responsible and strongest though I feel far from that), but I simply could not handle even the littlest things reeling from another loss so dear to my heart.

Mr. Texas, throughout it all, has held me and stepped up when I simply couldn’t stand on my own. We have a ton of issues – mostly coming from my end, but after my sister died and sex and hurty rope didn’t offer the comfortable escape I sought, Mr. Texas simply opened up his arms and held me through the tears, kissed and beat and fucked my body until I temporarily could seek release from it all.

When he wasn’t around, I fought the sleeplessness; the admitting that I needed help, counseling, medicine; limped along in my job and fought panic attacks; I binged ate and forgot to eat. Time and time again I kept coming over to his house, our kids blending seamlessly and he offered home cooked meals, wine, hot tub, comfort.

He offered home.

He changed his work schedule (a rare opportunity in the military) to help me with school schedules, painted bedrooms and negotiated with all the kids involved to make space personalized for everyone.

I don’t know if we’re suited: he was very vanilla but is now open minded enough to accept my want of polyamory, finds himself liking and even craving the kinkier intimate moments and the social communities; for myself, I wanted the freedom that older kids came with and exploring my outgoing kink lifestyle yet now find that home makes me content most days. It may be a fleeting acceptance on both of our parts but we are willing to see where it goes.

It’s a scary step.

I still fight the feeling that I need to stand on my own, that I need to find myself amid all this chaotic life changing loss, that I am relying on another so heavily.

I have always been the reliable one, the one that my family and even my ex husband relied on, the stead fast one, always known who I was, what I wanted, and how to get there.

I’ve no clue anymore. My heart is shattered in so many pieces I am shocked that anyone wants to hold the slivers and be in my broken company.

Maybe, even if I’m doing this wrong or for the wrong reasons, it’s what is right for right now.

And maybe it’s time I set aside my worry and allow Mr. Texas to soothe my vulnerability with love (and yes, even opening myself up to another potential loss).
Wicked Wednesday

Nov 182016
 

I received a text last night from a friend and former lover. It wasn’t positive.

Taking a step back: he had texted me last week about finding a new sexual partner during his vacation, and they had had the STIs discussion. He thought I would have been proud of him, as that is a talk that I stress in my own life. I was proud of him for talking, but apparently the talk was brief (and worthless in my opinion).

A week later she had texted him asking if he had come inside of her, to which he replied he did, and on several occasions. I’m unclear why days later this would concern her. But she responded negatively towards this admittance.

He texted that he was nervous, that he felt that during the STI talk that he was thorough enough to dispel any concerns.

Maybe for STIs, from  him. But how does he know that she is clear of any? I require my partners to be tested, to show me that test. I want to go into an intimate situation clearly informed. Him telling her that he is clear, that he’s been tested, doesn’t protect him.

And the idiot (don’t worry, I still love the idiot) didn’t even consider pregnancy it seems. STI talks are not pregnancy talks, though they can easily segment into them (which apparently they didn’t). He didn’t even think to ask about birth control. She didn’t even think to ask for him to wear a condom.

I think condoms are a must to such an extent that it has to be negotiated out of the equation, not into it.

He’s beating himself up over this, and I think he should, because I’m mean like that. Hopefully he’ll learn from the experience, and hopefully without long term consequences. But I don’t think he’s entirely to blame.

Women cannot be so passive as to place all the blame solely on their partner. They are just as responsible for their sexual well-being. I told him that “she can’t shift all the blame to him, unless she told him to pull out. She allowed sex without a condom as much as he did. She’s as much to blame as he is, and if she’s not adult enough to own up to it, then he shouldn’t be doing adult activities with her anyhow.”

I had a few follow up questions like: “is she on birth control?” and “how did you guys negotiate the no condoms?”. This really should have been a part of their talk beforehand, but maybe he’ll remember them for next time.

Women aren’t the only ones, however. I cannot begin to count how many men have told me, when a partner gets pregnant, “but she said that she was on birth control,” or “but she said she couldn’t get pregnant,”. While men have far less options to avoid pregnancy than women, they can always put a condom on. No matter how much they trust their partner, if they don’t want to have a child, they can take precautions to avoid it.

I am aware that my own viewpoint of sex and sex talks will be different than other people’s. That having these talks aren’t going to cover everything, like non-monogamy, condoms breaking, cheating, and other scenarios (though, seriously, I discuss issues like that as well). I may be a bit fanatical in my discussions and suck all the romance out of it.

But I am in charge of my sexuality, of my body. I am. No one else.

And it pisses me off when I see people of any gender pointing the finger at someone else if they consented to the activities. They need to own up to what they allowed, what they liked, what they consented to, what happened. It’s not a blame game.

 Posted by at 7:59 am
Nov 012016
 

Inspired by Domme Chronicles

I think of myself as selfish though many would disagree. It is not unusual for me to handle more responsibility or take care of others; of course in the role of mom, but I sacrificed a great deal as a wife. As a friend and family member I will go above and beyond for – there is little I would not do, and my profession is known for being selfless and I will still put forth the extra mile for my coworkers and the people I work with. Sometimes in these roles, while fulfilling, I will overly commit and feel drained, exhausted, and have nothing left for myself. Being selfish shows up more in my intimate relationships, but even that, upon reflection, is some shades of grey.

That is how I felt for three years during my marriage, though through no fault of my husband; it was the cost of supporting him during a job that wrung us both dry that the military created. It was also a time that I didn’t have the support of the other fulfilling roles (with the exception of mother) in my life – it required me just to be a selfless in my role of wife and even diminished my role of lover with my husband. (There was more positives than negatives during our marriage, for one: I offered my full submission to him during the course of our marriage – the only man that I have completely done this for, and that was a beautiful connection that I really blossomed and grew in.) What I have learned in my marriage is that I cannot compromise who I am really am and what is important to me – I learned this of course months after the marriage ended. He has asked me to give up the blog and twitter, something that I worked years on and that I feel passionately about. I couldn’t do it. He has asked me to give up people in my life – something I could compromise to an extent on. (And yes, he has asked for other outrageous stuff which felt like he was testing my desperation to be with him, and some things I did and others I agreed to, and then months later I wouldn’t compromise on those when we discussed AGAIN getting back together.) He has asked for monogamy – something that during the course of my marriage I truly struggled with and was the only thing I asked of him to compromise on (granted it’s a huge thing), something I realized that I could commit to only when the marriage was over.

…Something that I will not compromise on in my current state. I am not ready for commitment, I need to discover truly who I am and what works for me, and if that means that I come out the gate with a selfish stand while dating then so be it – I need this attitude, and as long as I am being honest, it isn’t selfish, right? It’s actually a concept I struggle with a bit, because I know Mr. Texas wanted the full commitment (he even proposed marriage), and so do some other men, so even though they know and supposedly accept, I feel guilty when I do play or date others.

What I have learned as a top (the role it seems I take with my vanilla dating explorations) is that it comes from a place of both selfish and selflessness. It is what I want – my show, my decision, my entertainment, my pleasure. But it is no fun unless they are enjoying it too, so I want to provide an experience that they desire. Maybe I top from the bottom?

What I have learned as a rope bottom is that I want things done to me and to be passive – this is a role that I do not often take and I relinquish control in bondage. I have simply no choice. I am bound, I can fight or struggle all I want – I am still being forcibly controlled. The power dynamic of this is incredibly erotic to me, and also can be pointed towards another kink of mine with consensual non consent. Someone else is in control and I am powerless to do anything about it, even if I so desired. I can achieve a mindlessness in rope that is rare for me, though it needs to be a very challenging, painful, or include multiple orgasms, as the physical demands have to override the constant chaos that is my brain. There is also some part of myself that just wants to accept what is happening to me without resistance or responsive action; being so compliant and submissive is the path of least resistance that creates such peacefulness when I have the dynamic with another in rope to be passive (found most often with my ex husband or Mimir). Rope helps me find that peace. (Mimir taught me acceptance towards passiveness.)

What I have learned as a bottom and play partner could be everything in being a rope bottom but a bit more complicated due to the forced factor. I can be more switched into submissive head space where I want to do what they want, but it takes a strong connection, a feeling uncomfortably foreign (new place, new experience), or physically forced (oddly just placing a hand on my throat will do it, it doesn’t have to be forced take downs – though those are hot). Some examples are The Wanderer asking me to fetch things for him (connection), when I was co-topped and ordered to move certain ways (foreign), or when Mimir would tell me to just stand there and look at me (thus making me feel self-conscious and awkward but oddly beautiful) because it was a power play allowed due to our strong connection. But this role is self-serving, I am having things done to me and I am not taking an active role, I am selfish in that it is my body being played upon and that I am not making decisions or having to come up with a plan.

It is this role, in rope/bottom/play partner, that I want the most; this is most selfish role that I am in my life.