déjà vu


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He says he likes me…because I’m different from the rest.

He says he loves my words, loves my mind.
instant connection
effortless communication
minds and souls ablaze
Yet then, as if on cue, Fear steps in. Fear, the evil and corroding thread. “This short word somehow touches about every aspect of our lives…the fabric of our existence was shot through with it. It set in motion trains of circumstances which brought us misfortune we felt we didn’t deserve.”
fear of needs going unmet
fear of not being enough
fear of being too much

Suddenly, the tides turn and the energy shifts.
my differentness, no longer an asset
my toomuchness, now a liability
no longer becauseof, it becomes inspiteof

I have spent too much of my life hiding my light.
Feebly fumbling to be something or someone I’m not.
For him, for her, for them.
I don’t want hostages.
I don’t want to convince anyone to stay.
I want to desire and be desired.
because of who he is
because of who I am

something I can never have

Mickey: Let me tell you something, this is the 1990’s. Alright?
In this day and age, a man has to have choices.
A man has to have a little bit of variety.
Mallory: What are you talking about, variety? Hostages?
You want to fuck some other women, now?
Is that what you’re talking about, Mickey?
Why’d you pick me up? Why’d you take me out
of my fucking house and kill my parents with me?!
Ain’t you committed to me?! Where are we fucking going?!!
Mickey: Just relax, alright?  It’s me, your lover, not some
demon, not your father. Alright, relax.
Mallory: No, you’re not my fucking lover. You’re not my fucking-
You’ve been loving me?! You’ve been fucking loving me?! Huh?!
You’ve been loving me real…

I still recall the taste of your tears.
Echoing your voice just like the ringing in my ears.
My favorite dreams of you still wash ashore.
Scraping through my head ’till I don’t want to sleep anymore.

You make this all go away.
You make this all go away.
I’m down to just one thing.
And I’m starting to scare myself.
You make this all go away.
You make this all go away.
I just want something.
I just want something I can never have

You always were the one to show me how
Back then I couldn’t do the things that I can do now.
This thing is slowly taking me apart.
Grey would be the color if I had a heart.

Come on tell me

In this place it seems like such a shame.
Though it all looks different now,
I know it’s still the same
Everywhere I look you’re all I see.
Just a fading fucking reminder of who I used to be.

Come on tell me

I just want something I can never have

more musings of a hungry madwoman…


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Here is something I threw together on 8/31/15 as a follow-up to my previous post.  Now he asks, he asks, he asks…I want to tell him everything.

  • He’s a grown-ass man
  • He says “fuck yes” to me
  • He’s equal parts classy/dirty – knows when and how to be a gentleman and treat me like a lady and when and how to do everything else
  • He respects that my submission is an honor and a privilege and doesn’t ever take that for granted
  • He doesn’t intentionally withhold communication, attention or affection
  • He understands that the seduction of a woman begins with the brain, outside the bedroom and long before the sex act
  • He knows how to help me relax & quiet my mind
  • He can make me laugh
  • He is confident yet remains humble
  • He always respects my limits, he’s willing to negotiate & renegotiate
  • He knows that sometimes I will be pouty, needy and want him to baby me; he’s patient and giving
  • He respects that I have a life outside of BDSM, remains discreet and doesn’t leave visible marks
  • He is open to sharing some time together for “vanilla” dates
  • He always keeps me safe and protected
  • He takes care of me after intense scenes, both immediately and in the hours and days afterward
  • He is sweet yet firm, kind yet rough
  • He is a creative and imaginative lover
  • He lets me be me and keeps me on a long leash, knowing I will always respect and adhere to our established boundaries
  • He doesn’t break my spirit
  • He knows that within this partnership we can help each other grow and become better versions of ourselves

Why I Hide (crossposted from FL)


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Throughout my life I have consistently gone into hiding. I hide from my kink, I hide from my fears, I hide from the world and sometimes I hide from myself. Once I even hid from my sexuality for four years straight. That was not my intention, life just unfolded itself that way it does. Over the past few years I have drifted in and out of the BDSM lifestyle, outwardly at least. Inwardly it is always there, it has always been there. I cannot, nor will not, deny who I am. Finding my place in the world has never come easily to me, I usually feel like a misfit…even amongst the misfits. A few years ago I was ousted from a kinky supper club because one of the members believed I was lying about my celibacy. “Please accept my resignation. I don’t want to belong to any club that will accept people like [you] as a member” (thanks for that, Groucho Marx.) If you know me, you know that I am honest to a fault. Why would I lie about NOT getting laid? Oh the irony, as if it were any of her fucking business anyway.

No one is asking for an explanation but I feel compelled to offer one anyway.

Sharing openly helps me feel seen, understood, known. It gives me a sense of belonging and acceptance. For over twenty years I have been searching for answers from medical and mental health professionals. I have been diagnosed, misdiagnosed, re-diagnosed, informed I should leave my day job to join the Cirque du Soleil. I have spent hundreds of thousands of dollars and countless hours trying to figure out what is “wrong” with me. For years I had a therapist who repeatedly implored me to journal on the topic “what if there’s nothing wrong with me,” which I dutifully considered in spite of knowing there was definitely something wrong with me. The relentless pain, the neverending fatigue, the mood swings, the mental fog; none of it could be normal. It has driven me to hide because sometimes being in the world is simply too much. I have an amazing capacity to put on an excellent show along with a happy face but all of that has an expiration and the aftermath can be crushing. Life has not been smooth or easy, relationships have been painfully unsuccessful, my social life has suffered, higher education was excessively challenging and jobs excruciating.

Finally, after the persistent urging of two medical specialists, I met with a sleep doctor last year. During my initial consultation he told me that he suspected I might have narcolepsy but I would need to complete a sleep study (MSLT) to be certain. Obviously I found his assertion ridiculous and sought a second opinion from another sleep doctor who happened to agree. Everything I had ever heard about narcolepsy came from popular media, not from medical experts. But I figured that surely at at age 41 I would KNOW if I had narcolepsy! We all get sleepy, right? I agreed to the sleep study, which my insurance company would not cover, and the results were conclusive. I have narcolepsy without cataplexy and it’s probably not what you think it is. It’s definitely not falling asleep standing up humorous. This level of sleepiness would take a normal person 2-3 days of sleep deprivation to experience and I experience it almost every day, sometimes many times throughout the day. It has led to some fairly catastrophic consequences in my life and in many ways I feel irreparably broken. I am still sitting in the denial phase of the grief process. I have spent at least half my life trying to figure out the right combination of factors to help me feel like a normal, fully functioning human being. It is taking a long time for it to fully register that I.am.not.a.normal.and.never.will.be.fully.functioning.human.being and that is heartbreaking.


I know it could be worse and I do not need or want to hear anyone’s words of encouragement. I simply want to share my experience as someone suffering silently from an invisible illness. I may look healthy but I feel ill much of the time. So please understand if I say I will be somewhere and then back out or don’t show, it’s not because I’m flaky. It’s probably because I’m super fucking sleepy and really have no choice but to go climb into bed. Believe me I hate it more than you do.



He asks me what I am looking for and I reply that I do not know. I am not being evasive; the truth is I don’t know. This question is not an easy one for me to answer. My kink is multifaceted, ambiguous, defies compartmentalization. With the right Dom, I submit. With the right sub, I dominate. Does that make me a switch? Perhaps…but I despise labels, as I have never fit comfortably into any category.

In the vanilla world, I am an alpha female. A double Scorpio, a Rat, a Challenger; tightly wound and in control. This does not elicit the response from vanilla men that I find I crave. I attract the kind of man who is broken, lost, needy…not necessarily submissive, but definitely not dominant. Repeatedly I have found myself frustrated, longing, starving; craving something that perpetually eludes me.

I am not one for whom submission comes easily. I think of myself as a free spirit, an untamed pony, wild and unfettered. Yet relinquishing control of my body is intoxicating. Being bound quiets my mind like nothing else can. The sting of flesh disciplining flesh is a heady release. Knowing I have pleased him with my submission is a reward in itself. Being the good girl that he wants ignites a fire in my soul. Knowing that the offering of myself to him, body mind and spirit, elicits a complementary response in him brings a singular satisfaction from the symbiosis of mutual needs met. In no other way do I experience that feeling of being desired, cherished, coveted and protected. That is what I want. That is what I crave.

The Ten BEST Things About Getting Dumped (this time):


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As embarrassing as this is to admit in public (never mind the shoulds or should nots, it just is) my partner of more than two years suddenly left me a couple of weeks ago.  Suffice it to say, that was not ideal and put me on an emotional roller coaster ride. I have plenty to say about all of that, but to help me stay in the present I’m opting to focus on the pros rather than the cons.  In a cost to benefit analysis, here are the current top ten benefits of unexpected singleness:

10. eating whatever the fuck I want, whenever the fuck I want
9. going to bed whenever the fuck I want
8. not waking up to a 6am alarm clock, especially on my days off
7. no more snoring
6. no more incessant whistling
5. no more teenage boy in the house
4. no more joint accounts and shared bills
3. feeling free to let my OCPD freak flag fly all day every day
2. not feeling guilty because a nap is frequently more appealing than sex
…and the #1 reason that getting dumped was a good thing: never worrying about coming home to an unlocked back door

More to come in the days, weeks and months ahead…

love is a choice (originally posted on 8.18.13 – new title “history repeats itself OR fool me twice, shame on me.”)

I have been sick with a head cold for nearly a week now and it has gotten quite tedious.  I am so rarely ill that I have no patience with my own body’s stubborn refusal to get well faster than it is.  I have grown weary of feeling ill and all the emotions that go with it.  As I have said before, I am independent and self-sufficient to a fault, asking for help is not my strong suit.  If I can take care of myself, I would rather do it than inconvenience someone else.  A wise woman once taught me to treat myself the way I want others to treat me, so I happily buy myself flowers and soup when I’m sick. I refuse to play helpless or be self-pitying. However, I deeply appreciate it when people close to me offer to help.  Perhaps especially so since they know how difficult it is for me to ask for help. My roommate, my sister and even my parents have repeatedly asked me if I need anything or if they can bring me something.

My boyfriend is the one person who has not asked me what I need. That makes me sad.

To add insult to injury, he was sick first so I feel an underlying irritation that he passed this mess on to me. Voilà, le pièce de résistance. Last Thursday, after expressing an interest in “doing nothing with me,” he made it clear that meant I would have to drive to his house across town because he was too tired to come to me. I declined because I was sick, among other reasons. Yet later in the evening, he opted to go see a movie with his roommate. I was flooded with ugly thoughts and feelings…angry, disappointed, dejected, rejected, and neglected but most of all sad. We both had busy weekends ahead and agreed not to exchange any more texts until we could talk face-to-face today. Texting has been consistently troublesome for us and I realize it is not an adequate mode of communication. I went to bed that night with the words from Bonnie Raitt’s heartbreaking song “I Can’t Make You Love Me” running through my head.  I don’t even like Bonnie Raitt. The last few days have given me a lot of time to think about what love means to me. I believe we all have deeply ingrained ideas about what it means to love someone.  I am not sure we take a lot of time to ponder those ideas, where they come from, and how they play out in our lives and relationships. I have come to realize that I believe love is a choice. When I agree to enter into a committed, monogamous relationship with someone, I do not take that decision lightly.  I feel that it is an honor, a privilege, a gift and a responsibility. I do my best to honor that responsibility every day by showing up for my partner, even when I don’t want to or it’s inconvenient or when I don’t even like him that much.  I am not in love with love or the fantasy of love or the way this man loves me; I love this man and it is a choice I make every day to honor that privilege. His proclaimed love for me is a bonus, the proverbial icing on the cake.

To me, love is an action. I frequently refer to Gary Chapman’s book The 5 Love Languages, not because I love the book; I find it too Christian and heterosexist but like most things, I have been able to take what I like and leave the rest.  I love the simplicity of the principles Chapman proposes. In my personal and professional opinion, a lot of frustration could be alleviated if we take the time learn one’s partner’s love language and put it into practice. Chapman says, “Love is a choice and cannot be coerced…Each of us must decide daily to love or not to love our [partners.] If we choose to love, then expressing it in the way in which our [partner] requests will make our love most effective emotionally.” I love the idea of making relationship requests; ideally, it takes a lot of the confusing guesswork out of the equation. My primary love language is what Chapman calls Acts of Service, “they require thought, planning, time, effort and energy. If done with a positive spirit, they are indeed expressions of love.”  I openly share that this is the way I am best able to receive love.  My partner’s primary love language is Words of Affirmation, which I do my best to apply liberally and generously even though that is not my natural inclination. Since my love language involves action, I feel words are hollow so I naturally show my love with acts of service.  Giving words of affirmation is a deliberate choice I make to show my partner love in the way that he can best receive it. I do not say all of this because I feel I deserve praise; I am simply sharing my philosophy of love.

In my tribe, we frequently hear that expectations are premeditated resentments.  Furthermore, love and tolerance of others is our code. These are also principles I do my best to live by. However, as a recovering person who still sometimes struggles with co-dependency, I walk a tightrope between being caring and caretaking.  For me, having no expectations in my relationships feels like one misstep away from being a doormat.  Allowing myself to have requests and what my therapist calls “preconditions for sex” is part of this ongoing negotiation we call a relationship. When it comes to certain requests and preconditions, I think all of us have some non-negotiables. An expectation of mine sound like this: I would like to know my partner is willing and able to show up for me when I am sick, hurt or scared, even when it may be inconvenient and possibly annoying to him.  My preconditions for sex include getting tested for STDs and maintaining good physical hygiene, even when he might not feel like it.  Chapman says you do not have to do these things but if you do them, it will be an act of love.

To my knowledge, I have never asked a partner for expensive gifts, dinners or trips. I do not need flowers, cards, or chocolate, although all of those things are nice.  I am most often drawn to men who are not wealthy. Generally speaking, that is actually more attractive to me than the alternative. I’m not wealthy, nor do I expect to be.  I do not want or need a man to take care of me financially, although it sounds great in theory. I have issues around money and I fear the conditions that are sometimes attached to bank accounts. I frequently wonder if I am too demanding, if perhaps I have my expectations set too high.  Could it be that I am delusional and I don’t give nearly as much as I think I do? I am not hoping for a 100% return on my investment, in fact I would probably be happy with a 50% return on what I give.  I enjoy being a giver and I do not think that makes me a martyr, I am just wired to be nurturing and I believe those closest to me would agree.  However, I do not want to feel that my partner is taking my efforts for granted.  Apparently, acknowledgement, validation and appreciation are my relationship requests and my preconditions for sex.  There is no way I will feel turned on if I feel my partner is taking advantage of me.  I have found it is nearly impossible for me to stop the giving so it is imperative that my partner appreciate me. The Bible says “Love is patient and kind; it is not jealous or conceited or proud; love is not ill-mannered or selfish or irritable; love does not keep a record of wrongs…love never gives up; and its faith, hope and patience never fail.” Although I am not Christian, I find these to be Universal truths and I only hope I measure up.

sexual privacy…what does it mean to you?


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I have been following Ester Perel on Twitter for quite some time, although I have yet to read her book Mating in Captivity.  I adore this woman and yet somehow I missed her talk on TED when it first aired on Valentine’s Day last year.  For both personal and professional reasons, I have been researching eroticism and desire in long-term relationships and in the process, I found the TED video after reading an interview with her in The Sun Magazine. I am slightly obsessed with her talk right now, I have printed out the transcript and carry it with me to revisit regularly.  I keep hearing these words in the quiet spaces of my mind, when I am alone and with my partner, “I’ve come to understand erotic couples…have a lot of sexual privacy. They understand that there is an erotic space that belongs to each of them.”  Being the very private introvert that I am, those words have given me much pause for thought.  What exactly is sexual privacy?  How can I explain to another the exact nature of my erotic space?  I would love to hear your comments, either here or in a personal message, about what sexual privacy and erotic space mean to you.

Click here to watch Esther Perel’s TED talk on “the secret to desire in a long-term relationship.”

attempting re-entry

As I sit here attempting to pull myself out of the crater that my creativity has become, I cannot believe I have not written anything of substance since last year. So much has happened in the months since my last post…some of it wonderful, some of it terrible; yet as always, all of it growth enhancing. I want to begin by sharing that I have recently been diagnosed with carpal tunnel syndrome, moderate on the right and severe on the left.  Having near constant pain and numbness in my hands has severely limited my desire and ability to type. The orthopedic surgeon said that some of the muscles in my hand have atrophied and that is rare to see such an advanced case in someone my age. I have been feeling somewhat foolish, knowing that had I taken care of the issue sooner it would not have gotten this bad.  Sadly, it is still in my nature to ignore or minimize my own wants and needs.  This afternoon an acquaintance of mine said he believes that is a sign of emotional immaturity, nothing quite like being shamed for one’s shame.  Personally, I disagree with that and believe it is more likely a sign of childhood trauma, either emotional, physical or both.  For the record, I have rarely been accused of being emotional immature.

Please allow me to indulge in a brief synopsis of everything that has happened this year.

Almost immediately after I posted about my “misadventures in dating,” I decided to disable my online dating profile following a particularly vile first (and last) date. I decided I would be better off leaving my romantic future up to The Fates and as luck would have it, I was right. I accidentally fell in love with a wonderful man whom I had previously known as a friend for nearly three years. In many ways, he is my equal and my ideal.

Ironically, around the time I was falling in love, a very dear family member went through an unexpected, unwanted and extremely painful divorce resulting from ongoing infidelity and dishonesty.  The divorce split our family apart and was devastating for everyone involved.

I have resigned from more jobs, thus setting a personal record.  However, I continue to be blessed with work I love.

Not to be outdone, I received more unsolicited and unwanted contact from the ex who will not go away, despite the fact that I have not responded to him since last June. At that time, I asked him not to contact me anymore.  Clearly, he has very little impulse control.

“July 16, 2013: I hope this message finds you healthy, happy and blessed.  I just wanted to write to let you know that since we last saw each other, I’ve sort of experienced a major transition in my life, moving from one life stage to a new one.  And while that has brought about changes to nearly every aspect of my life, such as how I see myself & others, the things I value, how I engage with the world around me, what I’m interested in, how open and comfortable I am with myself and others, the company I keep and so forth… the one thing that has remained constant is my appreciation for who you are and what you’ve taught me.  Ok, so maybe it hasn’t remained constant so much as it has grown, but you get the idea. I hope that this isn’t interpreted as an attempt to rekindle anything or anything of that sort.  My only intention here is to let you know that you have had a tremendous influence on my life for the better, and that I am constantly thankful for having gotten to spend the time with you that I was allowed.  I hope someday to be able to have the same level of positive influence on someone else that you have had on me.  Other than that my only other hope is that someday perhaps we can sit and enjoy cup of coffee together, even if in absolute silence. Until that time however, I hope you received and enjoyed the coffee and that whatever life puts before you is of the very richest possible quality, as someone of your character deserves nothing but the very best. Congratulations on the 10 year milestone, the new career & your birthday by the way.  I hope each milestone was celebrated to the fullest :)

Thoughts, prayers & well wishes, R.”

Do not be fooled by his snake-charmer wiles, this is not about love, respect, adoration or admiration.  Remember, this is the same man who accused me of acting like a cunt on Christmas Eve during one of his temper tantrums. I assure you, he does not even care whether I like him.  He is a master manipulator who makes vain attempts to bait me (and others, I am sure) into reflecting his attention back onto him. He can be quite convincing but he is not the best I have encountered. Thankfully, I am older, wiser and blissfully impervious to his narcissistic machinations.