I haven’t been hitting quota. (For non-long-term readers: we try to have sex ten times a month. I joke about it being my quota.) I just… can’t have more vanilla bunny sex than I’m having.
I didn’t go to Folsom yesterday mostly because I didn’t think I would have the self control to follow my boundaries. I want a pick up scene so bad. And I could have gotten lots of play. Lots. Being “good” isn’t feeling fun.
I want to do a take down scene with someone who would be equally gleeful about losing as they would be about winning. That isn’t a dynamic I can have with Noah. He doesn’t want to lose and he… is clear when it happens.
I don’t know how this will resolve. I’m not a heterosexual monogamous person. I still think that poly would be the end of my marriage. I would not put up with more of how things have gone. But I feel so antsy and restless and dissatisfied.
I’m not feeling that good about bdsm where I’m the only person who can get hit. Noah has managed to fully and completely convince me that it isn’t ok to hit him. It means that no, it isn’t fun to do a scene where I fight back. You get angry when you are hit. It isn’t a game. You can’t play with it.
I’ve been hitting the punching bag and I’m not sure it is helping. I want to beat the crap out of someone so badly. In my defense, I want it to be someone who has fully consented and is having fun. I want to play with a friend. Not necessarily a specific individual friend–but someone I have positive feelings about. I don’t hit people out of anger, exactly. Excessive energy.
Only I’ve agreed not to hit anyone, basically ever again. Sometimes it feels like dying. It feels like having to kill parts of me. If memory serves correctly (it’s a funny thing) it hasn’t even been two years since I beat on my Leather sister. Not that long. Why does this feel like it has been lifetimes of suppression?
I’m a sadistic masochist trapped in a life where it isn’t ok to cause anyone pain and it isn’t ok to model that it is acceptable to hurt me. “Trapped” is a terrible word. But it sure as shit sounds accurate today. I carefully created this trap for myself–I’m not blaming a single person other than me. I wanted this. Now I’m finding out what it means to get what you want.
A long time ago a friend asked the dude I was dating at the time, “So, what does it feel like to get what you always wanted?” He said, “Exhausting.”
We didn’t date that long. Turns out I wasn’t actually everything he always wanted.
I feel like a big meanie face for not being all gung-ho on the kinds of sex Noah wants. I used to work my way through all 31 flavors on a regular basis. Now I get one or two flavors and that’s it. Forever. It isn’t that I have started hating vanilla (I even got a spiffy new vanilla cookbook from a generous friend for my birthday) I just… man I miss variety.
I miss having the kind of sex that causes people to get upset when they watch it because the violence is so intense. I like going to public sex spaces and freaking people out with how violent sex can be. You have to work pretty hard to alarm such a jaded audience and the challenge really spurs me to great heights. “This is bdsm not your local vanilla cuddle party.”
When I got involved in bdsm people were told that if you were overwhelmed by what you were watching it was your responsibility to walk away and go handle your shit. While I was actively playing I watched that get stomped on hard. Eventually people were only supposed to do non-offensive stuff in public.
Folsom is a great place to squick the tourists. I want to alarm people. I really do. I am an exhibitionist. It is partially about the effect on the crowd.
I want to suspend someone and slowly cut them in between all the rope marks till they are dripping on a tarp. Just to watch it. I really do. I haven’t done that much blood play but right now I think I would be hard pressed to not lick up all the blood. I’m feeling quite savage and violent.
And I sit at home. Today there is baby sitting and I will work. I should arrange to get books from the library. I should paint. I should write letters.
Whoo.
I’ll watch more god damned West Wing because that is a lot of how I numb out at this point.
Don’t do anything you will regret in the future. Just be “good”.
I don’t regret what I’ve done. Not the people I’ve tied up. Not the people I’ve hit–ok, I regret some of the fist fights in grade school. I don’t regret being a pervert. I found people who were happy to go on the ride with me and I don’t think we did anything wrong. I just don’t want to teach my kids.
That is what it comes down to. I don’t want to teach my kids to be perverts. I don’t want them to look at me from a distance and know the kinds of things I used to do on the weekend.
I’ve been thinking a lot about this one play partner I had. She was willing to let me do some… horrifying? fun? intense? things. I wonder what she has been doing lately. I really shouldn’t call and ask.
Avoidance is a PTSD symptom. But is this avoidance a problem or a good thing?
“When I got involved in bdsm people were told that if you were overwhelmed by what you were watching it was your responsibility to walk away and go handle your shit.”
I wish that were more true. More precisely, that it actually happened more often. I’ve been asked to move my scene or stop my scene because of purported concerns for the wall or furnishings, but basically, someone was bothered by my partner slamming me into the wall. I’ve been asked to move or stop my scene because I had a knife in my hand. Never mind there was no blood, no lymph, and no more sweat or other bodily fluids than was dripping anywhere else in the playspace. I’ve been asked to move or stop my scene because someone didn’t like my AP – or didn’t like my style of it. I’ve been asked to move or stop my scene because my partner or I or both of us were laughing and talking and Not Being Serious while we played. Me? I’m totally squicked by blood play and needle play. I think I’ve asked maybe one person ever to stop or move their scene, and only because I’d already started a scene right next to the space they ended up using, and they were quite nice about it (I like to think I was as well). Otherwise? Totally my issue to deal with.
Meh. It’s one of the many reasons I’m not rushing to get back into the scene.
I’ve had very different experiences in different kinds of dungeon spaces. My earliest experiences were mostly house parties where you had to know someone to get invited. If, as a new person, you complained you were cordially invited to leave.
I’ve had a lot of push back in large public spaces. In large public spaces they are more worried about not squicking the audience and that bugs me.
Yes, I agree with you. I have had far fewer issues at house parties than public parties (not to say none, but when it’s your house, you get to make – and change – the rules).