Monday, March 5, 2018

Max Cunning

Sometimes a person enters your life, or your heart, or your body, and stays.
Max did that.

That's Max Cunning, for those of you keeping score at home.

First time we met, I despised him. The funny thing about that, though, is that I despised him but couldn't forget him.

The second time we met, nearly three months later, I couldn't resist him. And now four months after that, I still can't.

Never has there been a man who gets under my skin in the way Mr. Cunning does. He quite lives up to his name, that's for certain.

In the past four months, we have loved, and fought, and loved, and fought, and loved and fought again. That's how it is, or has been, between us. We make love passionately, and we fight passionately. I can't recall any other man who I've fought so viciously with, and then wanted to run right back to him. Hugh and I never fought, ever. He was so bloody easy-going that it sometimes infuriated me when I wanted him to disagree with me about something, but he just wouldn't. One of the billion things I loved about that fantastic man.
Max is quite different, and fantastic in a way that is unique to him. He will call me on my bullshit without hesitation. And, yeah, I do the same to him. And then we butt heads and say awful things to each other. We defriend, we block, we do all the breakup things.

And I know full well that seems to be very unhealthy. The thing is, it's infuriating and aggravating and... sort of fun, too. How do you have makeup sex if you never fight?

I really thought we were done this time, though, after my last blog post when I said I was getting off the roller coaster. I honestly thought it was the end, for a variety of reasons, including the fact that our anger exhausted us. We both got tired of it. It wasn't fun anymore, it was ugly... and we went our separate ways, still furious at each other.

But when you get a man like Max Cunning inside you, it's hard to shake free of him. And I utterly and completely failed at doing that.

The thing is, though... he failed at getting me out of his system, too. Put the two of us in the same room, and it's like an inescapable magnetic field envelops us, and brings us closer and closer together until we're locked to each other.

Something is different this time. We're both so damn sick of pretending that Second Life is just as fun when we're not together... It isn't. And it's not just sexual, either. Sex is a HUGE part of it, but it's because we know each other so well... and like each other in spite of our flaws. We laugh. When it's good with us, it's the very best.

I think we're both pretty committed this time to keeping it good between us. We're going to put each other first and make this time about us, and no one else.

Note... that's "first", not "only". The thing that first brought us together was our raw sexuality, and neither of us has any desire to quash that in the other. We'll play with others, together and separately, but at the end of the day, we're with each other. Our home is wherever the other is.
Both of us have left a trail of lovers behind us, each of them wonderful in their own ways, and each brought something incredible to our lives. The people and loves and situations in our pasts make us who we are.

Max has a few haters in Second Life, as do I. He can be an asshole... I can, too. We all can. But he's also infinitely kind, generous, hilarious and intelligent. And when I'm with him, I feel invincible. He knows what he wants... and I know what I want. In the past, those two things clashed, violently, and we couldn't make it work because neither of us would make a single concession.

We dug in our heels and there was a very thick line between us. He was firmly on his side, and I was firmly on mine. The things that utterly aggravated us about each other were also the same things that we loved and admired about each other.

We've come full circle now. The love of those traits is more important than the hate of them. The Max I'm with right now is a very different Max than the one I first met, the one I despised. There has always been a storm brewing inside him - the uncompromising Max, and the, er... teddy bear Max.

My Max.

The storm has calmed... the lightning and thunder have faded into the distance, replaced by a calm, steady rain. The kind that renews and invigorates and nurtures life.

Real life is almost always full of some sort of turmoil and stress. Second Life is supposed to be our escape from that, for all of us. It hasn't been that for quite a while. I think, in the natural cycle of Second Life, breaks are incredibly healthy and cathartic. I've recently taken one, as has Max... and, oddly enough, a few other people I know. Perhaps it's the time of year, or if it has just accumulated for everyone at once... the stress of the holidays, etc., and it comes time to take a breather.

We have to sometimes go away from Second Life to remember the fun of it and the reasons we're there in the first place, and we have to come back rested and ready to do the things we need to do to make it our unstressed, fun, happy escape.

With that comes clarity of who we are, who we want to be. For me, I just want to be myself. It always comes back to that for me. I just want to be Beth. I like Beth.
And I'm happy being Beth with Max - this incredible man who will never, ever agree with me 100% on everything ever, but at the same time loves me and supports me being me, even if some part of that is something he disagrees with.

Is he my master? Yes. My owner? Yes. Does he expect blind obedience from me?

No, he doesn't. He's not that kind of master. He's the kind that is perfectly confident in his absolute importance in my life to know he can sit back and let Beth be Beth, knowing full well that he is... the One. He knows I submit to no other man but him. And he knows that I don't submit because he demands it... I submit because he has earned it by being Max, and that it brings me a sort of ethereal joy to kneel for him. Just him. Only him. Always him.

I don't walk behind him... I walk at  his side, or even in front of him so he can watch my ass, and give it a few good smacks.

I call myself his slave... it's not a title he bestowed on me, it's something that I wanted, asked for. There's no goofy Master/slave contract. I do not, nor will I ever, call him Master, or Master Max. He does not call me slave. I'm Beth, he's Max. We are equal in all ways... including servitude. I love to serve him, and he loves letting me indulge myself by letting go, and serving him. He doesn't degrade me, he doesn't humiliate me. He's proud. I wear a collar, and he holds the leash - not to control me, but because he wants me close to him. It's a tangible connection between the two of us, and we use it when we're alone. And I fucking love it. Putting my collar back on, giving him ownership... feeling the clasp snap tightly as he locked it... it filled me with warmth and security and love.

And isn't that what all of us really want? That intimacy that you can really only feel with one other person? That connection that goes deeper than sex, but is infinitely enhanced by it?

Max and I have that. It's silly to fight it... it just is what it is. We know how it feels when it's really good between us... and we're both willing to do the things it takes to keep it that good.

So, yeah... no sad, bitter, angry, defeated blog post from me today. Just smiles. Big ones. Comfort and security and bliss. Utter absolute ecstasy.
I know that wherever he is as he's reading this, his cock is thick and hard as he reads these words... and knows how I crave him. How much joy it brings me to be his slave... how I long to kneel for him, to worship him, that cock, for as long as the real world allows us. He's feeling that throb in his sac as it grows heavy and full... for me. And he's smiling right now knowing that as I write, as I think about him, his cock, and his love and ownership of me, I'm growing wetter and wetter, leaving a damp spot on the chair where I sit, and that that wetness is only for him.

He's my Max. I'm his Beth. And Second Life is our world.

And I could not be happier.

Saturday, February 10, 2018

The D Word

I've been in Second Life for about 10 years now, on and off. Mostly on.

Something has changed. Or maybe I've changed. I don't know.
In the old days, Second Life wasn't a game to most people I encountered. It's never been a game for me. I consider Beth Macbain to be an extension of RL Beth, and not a character, or caricature of myself.

And people were good with that. Or, at least, the group of people I that were my friends were good with that. They approached SL the same way I did.

That's all changed in the past six months or so. And I'm not sure if it's me, or just the people I've found myself being friends with, or if it's all of SL.

I thought that the people in my SL world had the same approach I did, and I suppose that's my mistake for assuming. SL has always been a place where I could be a freer version of myself... I could be overtly sexual, I could speak my mind (especially on this blog) and the people I knew, my friends, loved me for being me.

The last few months, though... I don't know. I've allowed myself to play a role. And never once in that role have I felt comfortable or happy, but I did it anyway, because I have feelings for my friends and lovers and wanted to make them happy even though I wasn't getting what I needed out of my SL experiences anymore.

And that thing that I need? It's the ability to be myself... that more open version of myself that doesn't have to worry about how I act or what I say affecting my job or my family or the ability to keep a roof over my head. I've always considered Beth Macbain to be the me I would be if money were no object and I didn't have the constraints of having to be proper or restrained all the time.

Logging into SL used to be cathartic for me. It was where I could let my hair down and dance naked and love without limits.

But now I feel like in order to keep my friends and lovers, I have to be a combination of a proper woman who knows her place AND a sex machine that wants to do nothing more than fuck 24/7.

I don't feel like my voice is encouraged or appreciated anymore. And I don't feel supported in the slightest.

And I know I'm coming across as whiny right now.

But I'm hurt. I've always used this blog to speak my version of the truth. And though often I said things some people didn't like or spoke on topics that were controversial, I never, ever felt that I was unsupported for saying the things I did. I had friends and lovers who encouraged me to put my heart into this blog because they understand me and how I communicate. They understood that sometimes I had things I wanted to say but had trouble finding the right words for, or that I had a problem I was struggling with and used this blog to sort out the mess in my brain. That, for the most part, this blog is very stream of consciousness... I just start typing, edit it for spelling and grammar, add a few nudes, and hit "publish". My friends and lovers understood that either I had something I wanted to talk about, something I wanted them to read and think about. That I wanted to be able to use all my words to express my side of whatever it was that was roiling around in my mess of a brain.

Or they understood that I had to talk things out with myself... using this blog... and that when I hit the "publish" button, it meant I was putting something to bed. That I had gotten out whatever was troubling me, worked myself through it, and was ready to move on.

I've been told recently that maybe that's fine for me to do... but instead of hitting that "publish" button, I should just erase my thoughts and not put them out here for anyone else to read.

And maybe that's true. But one of the reasons I've also gone ahead and posted my verbal diarrhea is because it always seems to resonate with a few people. I get messages from people thanking me, or saying I was able to put into words exactly what they were thinking or feeling but couldn't express.

And I still get that from people. I'll be out somewhere and a stranger will approach me and say "Are you the Beth with that blog? Remember when you wrote about such-and-such? It felt so good to read that and realize I'm not the only one who thinks that..." or a million varieties of that.

But I don't get that from my friends and lovers anymore. I've been told that what I write here is nonsense. I've been told I lie. And I've been told "you shouldn't have said that."

And because these are the people I'm closest to inworld, it makes me start to believe that they're right.

Don't get me wrong... I've always known that what I post here is my version of whatever it is I'm babbling about. And I know I've certainly read situations wrong before. In the past I've had people that I've written about set me straight, not from a "Fuck you, you're wrong" perspective but from a "Wow, I didn't realize that's what you thought... let's talk about it and fix it" perspective.

I feel like all I've gotten recently is from the "fuck you, you're wrong" place.

And I'm torn... half of me absolutely thinks that they must be right. Maybe they are? I'm at a place right now where I'm just down on myself enough to think that they're absolutely correct and I'm just a terrible, awful, selfish bitch. That I don't deserve to have friends or lovers and that they'd all be better off without me.

And then the other half kicks in where I know I'm depressed and that when that happens, I get down on myself and project my insecurity onto how I think others must view me, because it's how I'm viewing myself. And it's a black hole I've been down before time and time again and know damn good and well that the blackness will subside and I'll get my strength back and realize that I'm not the literal worst person to ever exist.

And that's what I keep telling myself now, but I'm not really believing it. I would be lying if I said that in this past week, quite a few of my thoughts weren't about how nice it would be to just be able to... not exist... anymore.

No, I'm not suicidal. Put your phones down. I'm not thinking about killing myself... I'm thinking about how nice it would be if I didn't have to and it could all just be over, and that's two VERY different things. I have no intention of offing myself and this isn't some pity-party cry for help.

And it's also not SL related. It's real world things, but SL has always been my escape, but my escape is down just as... unhappy... as the real world is for me.

What am I getting at with this? Fuck if I know. Once again, I sat down here with the intention of talking about something entirely different than where this has gone.

Stream of consciousness, remember? This is nothing more than the fucked up dialogue going on in my head.

I've lost friends and lovers this week over a blog post that I wrote. I took it down (edit: an edited version is now back up). I barely even remember what it was about or what I was trying to say. I just know that whatever it was I was trying to express has caused the three people I was closest to in SL to turn their backs on me.

I don't separate RL Beth and SL Beth when it comes to who I am, inside, when I'm in SL. I have emotions, and sometimes they're raw. Often they're raw. I could log into SL and be the Barbie version of Beth... always happy, always smiling, always ready to fuck or whatever, but... I'm not an actress. I don't want to be someone else. I want to be me. In the real world, people get annoyed with each other, people stop speaking, and people also talk or fight it out, if they care enough about each other.

In SL, if you show emotions that aren't shiny and happy, you're causing drama.

Oh, yeah... that is where I meant to go at the beginning of this post. Drama.

Drama has become a word that is associated with any show of emotion in SL that isn't something light and fluffy... or erotic, in my case.

It used to be reserved for those who set out with the intent of making mischief or wreaking havoc. Now it's assigned to anyone who has an issue with anything. "Why are you causing drama?" "All you do is cause drama."

Drama has become the unofficial safe word of Second Life. If you want someone to stop what they're doing or saying, just throw up the big D word - DRAMA. It's a very convenient way to not have to deal with humans with human emotions and feelings.

And I think that's wrong. I think emotions and feelings are the best things about Second Life... the good, the bad, and the ugly. Because it's real. Humans DO feel these things... every single one of us, every single day.

Second Life is nothing but a game if you take the humanity out of it. Life isn't always sunshine, and puppies, and butterflies, and orgies.

Maybe I'm just hanging around the wrong places with the wrong people. Everyone should be entitled to use SL in the way they want to, in the way that works best for them. Maybe there are places and people in SL who still feel the same way I do... that's it's not just a game... and I just need to clear out some people on my friend's list and go looking for new ones.

Or maybe that would be fruitless... maybe SL has devolved into something that is nothing more than a game.

If that's the case, I don't want to be there, and that makes me sad. SL has brought me so many great things... the love of my life, freedom, self-discovery. It's brought me confidence and laughter and tears and joy. But maybe that Second Life is dead.

Or maybe I'm just in a black hole of depression.

Or maybe I really am just a shitty, worthless human shit stain.

Sunday, February 4, 2018

Leading with my Pussy

I want a man.

And, no, I don't want a man to fuck. Those are easy to come by. It's SL... pretty much every man wants to fuck.
I want a man that is mine. I want... er... a boyfriend. No, a partner, but not in the SL pay-L$25-to-put-your-name-in-a-box kind of way. I mean in the way of two people who put each other first, even though they aren't monogamous. I want a man who isn't afraid to admit he cares about me, deeply, and wants the world to know. I want him to romance me, seduce me, support me, love me, just as I will him. I want a man who doesn't want to change me, and understands that it takes compromise on both sides to make a relationship work.

I want a man who actually wants to have a relationship with me and will pursue that with me.

And, no, I don't think that's an unreasonable thing to want.

Recently I was lamenting that I seem to find myself involved with, and caring for, men who aren't interested in a relationship with me beyond sex.
The (now ex) friend that I was talking to helpfully pointed out to me that I "lead with my pussy". I think what he meant was that I'm so outwardly and openly sexual that I shouldn't be surprised when that's all men see me for.

And no, I'm really not surprised, at least in their initial reactions upon meeting me. I am, however, nearly always surprised when even after talking with me for a while that's still all they seem to think I'm good for.

I also understand the school of "well, if you don't want to be treated that way, don't act or dress that way."

Perhaps I should rephrase... I understand the exceedingly basic logic that follows that line of thought. I also disagree with it completely.

Because, really, fuck a bunch of that double-standard.
And her's why I think that's a double-standard. The places I hang out in Second Life are all pretty much adult in nature. You're as likely to see men walking around with their cocks out as you are women showing their tits.

Just as many men are "leading with their cocks" as there are women "leading with their pussies". And no one ever, ever says "hey, if you don't want to be treated like a piece of meat, don't dress or act like one."

See what I'm getting at here? It's the thing I keep fucking trying to beat people over the head with since day one of this blog - we still live in a society, even in SL where we're free from normal societal constraints, where it's okay for a man to be sexual, even promiscuous, but a sexual woman is a slut.

People, fuck... Jesus. Enough already.
Can we stop with it? Women are sexual creatures, too. And Second Life affords me the luxury of wearing my sexuality on my sleeve just as men do. And when I see a gorgeous man walking around SL with a gorgeous cock, my initial thought might be... well, probably will be... about fucking him but I don't think for one single second that that is all there is to him.

As a matter of fact, if a hot avatar is all he has going for him, I'm probably not even going to fuck him. Why would I? It would be incredibly boring and I can grab my dildo and take care of myself if that's all I want.

Are men really so shallow as to not contemplate the woman behind the avatar? That she's a real person and not just a pixel Barbie? That she isn't being run by a computer... she's a human?

No, I know they aren't. At least, most of them aren't. I know I have quite a few wonderful men who actually take the time to read this blog and know me. The best relationships I've had in SL have been men who read my blog and then approached me. Hugh, for example... the best example... I had no idea he was a fan of my blog until he IMed me out of the blue one day.
And the rest, as they say, is history. Pretty damn amazing history.

But I digress. A bit. Hugh knew I was extremely sexual... and he was just about as vanilla as vanilla gets, but he looked deeper. He always looked deeper, and he not only accepted me, he embraced me. All of me.

And, yes, even to this day, Hugh is still the gold standard and I'm afraid I still hold all men up to the high bar he set and few even come close. I also know it really isn't fair to all the men out there, but... well, that's just how it is. I had my unicorn.
Edit: Paragraph removed here due to hurt feelings.

And when a man gets me to let my walls down with him? I completely throw myself into it. I immerse myself in it. And, yeah, I know I'm a handful when that happens. Some guy gets inside, and I'm not just talking sex, and I want to dive in, all the way in. And it's intimidating, I know. It's a strong man who can ride out that brief period and still be standing when we come out the other side.

Because I do come out of that period of deep immersion... the newlywed phase, SL style.

Edit: More paragraphs removed here.
Edit: Even more paragraphs removed here.
So what was the point of this post? Ah, yes, leading with my pussy. I'm not going to stop being who I am. And if men are surprised to find that, yes, I love sex, and yes, I also love romance and that I want one special man in my life... no, not monogamy... but that one certain partner... and if these men can't handle me being multidimensional, that's really their loss, isn't it?

Because, yes, I'm a handful. Aren't we all? And maybe it's arrogant, but I feel confident in saying these two men, and many others that have passed through my life, are lucky as fuck to have me, wanting them, for more than just their cocks. And they're certainly free to pass me up. To pass me over. That's certainly their prerogative.

Just as it's my prerogative to put my walls up and not lower the drawbridge for them again.

Perhaps it's my loss when I do that... but you know what? They lose out on knowing me. I have issues and damages and baggage. Flaws and faults galore. I also have empathy and kindness. Intelligence and a rockin' sense of humor. I know how to fuck, and be fucked, and I know how to make love and rock a man's world. I'm every flavor of the fucking rainbow, and I know that my good far outweighs my bad.

Complicated, complex, convoluted and uncompromising. And quite possibly the very best thing to ever happen to a man.

Label me if you want. I won't. It would take the entire dictionary.

If a man can't hold on to me and see me through our immersion phase... again, it's my loss.

But more so than that.. it's their loss.

Sunday, January 14, 2018

Just Beth

2018 is going to be a year of discovery for me. I need to get back in touch with the woman inside me, and listen to what she's telling me. For far too long, I've been listening to others tell me who I am, or who I should be.

I am quite uniquely qualified to know who I am and who I strive to be. And I alone know my boundaries and how much I'm willing to give myself to others before I rein it back in and take back my control.

I have labeled myself as a submissive for so long that I've nearly forgotten who I was before.

There is a part of me who loves to be in control, sexually speaking. And that's it, for the most part. Control. With control comes a bit of bondage, yes, because having a man tied up at my mercy is wicked and fun as hell.

Degradation? Humiliation? No. EVERY side of me hates that part of the BDSM world. I will even go so far as to say that almost anyone who gets off on being told they're worthless, or telling someone that they're worthless, has some abuse issues in their past, some serious self esteem issues in their present, and a whole lot of unhappiness in their future. It fucks with your psyche and that isn't healthy for anyone. And I'm 100% positive that someone who reads this is going to disagree with me about that. Maybe they're right.

But I doubt it.
I'm a pain slut. I get off on receiving painful stimuli from my neck down to my thighs. I know subspace is real because I've been there. I know it isn't for everyone, but holy hell, for me it's powerful and wonderful and addicting, just like morphine.

I don't get off on pain because I think I'm worthless and deserve it, and I think that's where a lot of people get confused. For me, pain isn't a punishment. It's a reward in every way. If a man is beating me black and blue while I'm cowering to get away and he's telling me it's all my fault? THAT is abuse. An experienced dom knows what the hell he is doing and has earned my complete trust when I give myself over in that way, and it is not abusive. It's not about telling me I'm worthless, a bitch, a whore, that I've asked for it, and everything is all my fault, etc. A man tries that shit with me and he quickly learns that I'm not a woman with low self esteem that will put up with it.
So... is a pain slut (a term I hate) a submissive? Because when I allow a man to take control of me in that way, believe me, it is all about me. The dominant should enjoy it, too, but he has to keep his head in the game in order to be able to read the "submissive" and her body and all the signs because she won't be able to stop.

He might have the control, but ultimately, it's about my pleasure.

When you break down the acronyms in BDSM, it's Bondage/Discipline, Domination/Submission and Sadism/Masochism. Of those six words, the ones that resonate with me are masochism, submission and bondage. It's a bit of a strange conundrum for me because the masochist in me doesn't want a sadist administering my pain. I don't want a guy who gets off on inflicting pain. I want a loving, caring man who understands that what he's doing is not about bringing me pain, but to bring me pleasure.
Bondage, to me, goes hand in hand with masochism because when those strikes start to land, the human instinct is to fight it or run from it - fight or flight. It's not about enslaving me... it's about keeping me from running out the damn door stark naked.

Submission is a difficult one for me. Most people who know me would laugh if you told them I'm submissive, because I'm fucking not. I can't be. I'm all I've got and have to take care of my own damn self. When it comes to things in my real life that I can influence, I will. I'm outspoken, decisive... some would say I'm bossy but I like Beyonce's words in relation to that, "I'm not bossy, I'm the boss." Boss of my own life, that is. If the bills don't get paid, the dishes don't get washed, the tires don't get rotated, the litter box doesn't get emptied, that's all on my head. I'm responsible for me and two furry little beasts, that's it.

And no one is responsible for me.
So weakness is not an option. Being a doormat is not an option.

And much like a lot of executives (I'm not one), it's a treat to be able to let go of the control and let someone else make decisions and take over for a while. And I've been finding, fulfilling, that need in Second Life - and will continue to. I dallied with expanding it into my real world but it was too... frightening... for me. And I couldn't find a dom that I truly trusted. Lots of fakes in the real world, too.

And, along with letting go of the control for a while, I truly love taking care of a man's needs in Second Life. Not being a sugar momma, but in sexual ways. As I get off on pain, I also get off on bringing someone else pure ecstasy. I'm in no way a sadist, but if a man I cared for needed the pain, I'd absolutely take that flogger in hand to give him what he needs.

To me, that is what being a submissive means - putting someone else's needs and desires above my own.

And I love being owned. I love wearing a collar and knowing that there is one man above all others who can bring me to my knees... who has the absolute right to. One strong, intelligent, confident alpha male who owns my being and uses that power wisely, not to chain me down but to let me soar, knowing that this little bossy bird will always have a place to land... a safe harbor, a strong hand, kindness and security.

This can be a terrible stumbling block... there aren't a lot of men in SL that want the submission during sex, but not any other time. And it's addictive when I find a man like that... I want to give it to him all the time, as if he could feasibly stay hard twenty-fours hours a day and orgasm every half hour. And it's really hard if/when that man has a harem because I'm always going to think I can take care of him better than they can and I want to be at his side all the time because I'm so proud to be his.
And that brings me around to the Domme side of Beth, and I do have one, but it's about taking control of the man, completely, to give myself pleasure. It isn't about humiliating him, or degrading him in any way. It's about using his body for my needs, and my needs only.

Let me show you what I mean... the following video is my idea of being a Domme. She is strong, in control, and takes what she wants. He doesn't (can't) move, doesn't speak... he's a nearly inanimate object for her pleasure. His tongue and his cock are hers.

Yeah, at the end I believe she lets him cum, though they don't really show it... and I rarely make it all the way to the end anyway... lol. See how she uses his cock? How she sits on his face? She's not humiliating him... she's just taking her pleasure and not caring about his.

That's female domination to me.

He's not a little wimpy femboy. This guy is... not beta. Don't ask me how I know that... I just do. I'm only attracted to alpha males and I think it takes an incredibly strong man to let himself be used the way she does in this video. How she doesn't sink down on him, though, and ride him I'll never understand. That is one gorgeous cock and I'd have to have it buried inside me.

Anyhoo, that's why I'm shying away from labels this year... and hopefully forever. None of them are a proper fit for me so I'll just be who I am... Just Beth.

Sunday, December 31, 2017

Phoenix Rising

Well, here we go... time to relaunch my baby, my blog.

2017 was a year of abject pain for me, misery like I've never felt before.

2018 will be a year of reinvention.
I've been told that in the past, my blog has been too negative. To me, it's been raw and real, sometimes good, sometimes bad. 2017 was bad for me. Perhaps many of my posts had a negative bent to them, but... I had a lot of negative emotions roiling inside me.

My father died. My last parent. It devastated me beyond the telling of it. I know some people can't understand the depth of that kind of pain. I know some people don't have the same strong, loving relationship with their parents that I did, and I know some people haven't gone through what it feels like to lose a parent, much less both of them. It god damned near put me in the grave right along with them. I won't apologize or feel bad for the grief I felt, still feel, and the way I've dealt with my grief. There is no right or wrong way to grieve. I did it, am still doing it, my way.
Life isn't always pretty.

I won't change the way I write this blog going into 2018. It's who I am and that is what this blog has always been. It is mine.

And no one is forced to read it.

Moving forward, I'm going to try to stop labeling myself so much... submissive, dominant, alpha, slave, whatever. I'm just me, and I'm pretty fucking awesome at being me. I've been being me for a very long time.
At times, I may be any of those things, and a billion more as well. And I have the right to every one of those nouns and adjectives. I'm following my happiness and if I start down a path that seems to be bringing me down, I will change it.

And there will be hurt involved.

It can't all be sunshine and rainbows and puppies and ladybugs and unicorns farting glitter.

I may be a Pollyanna, but I'm a realistic Pollyanna.

And I am not a Second Life Barbie Doll. I am a real woman with real emotions... sometimes joy, sometimes fury.
No one ever asks men to stop being so negative, do they? Who walks up to a man sitting on a bus and says "Smile! You look so pretty when you smile!"

So, you know, fuck a bunch of that bullshit.

Sometimes I don't want to smile. Sometimes I want to cry. Sometimes I want to scream.

And sometimes I fucking will if that's what I feel like doing.
I'm starting off 2018 by not getting what I want. I was tasked to change myself into someone I'm not... and I can't do it. Nor do I want to do it. Super-submissive beta slave girl.

It kinda makes me giggle to think I could ever be that. And who really calls themselves alpha or beta anything?

"Hi there! So nice to meet you! Just in case you were wondering, I'm an alpha. Here's my card. And you?"
It hurts that I'm letting something go that I love. But I was not loved in return, at least not for who I really am.

The positive in that is that I am strong enough to stand up for myself and be the kick-ass woman I am.

The negative is the hurt. And I'll be god damned if I'll pretend I'm not hurting and angry for the sake of making my blog sound like it was written by Little Mary Sunshine. This is my journal and my outlet.

When I love, I love deeply. And I often fall for men who want the Barbie Doll without the human operating her.
And I try... I do. I try so hard to be the Barbie. It'll go well for a little while and I will be... "perfect".

But I'm not perfect. No one is. Eventually my real self bleeds through, the one who stands up for herself and argues and refuses to be a fucking doormat.

Which woman would you want? I don't want a Ken Doll so why do so many men want the Barbie? Is it really that hard to deal with a real woman? I don't really think I'm all that high maintenance... I don't demand things, other than, you know, respect. And perhaps to come first, and I don't think that's a lot to ask of a person who says they love you.

Not first in RL, of course. First in SL.

When you want a man to love you for who you are, and he can't or won't, it fucking hurts. It sucks and there are no two ways about it.

But... having said all that, it also makes me feel strong. Stronger. I'm resilient. I can withstand the pain and not let it kill me. Because I am that strong woman with her own opinions, and intelligence, and humor, and independence. I'm a fucking goddess.
So, anyway, I'm disappointed. Disappointment is part of life.

So is healing.

2017 was pain... 2018 will be the healing. It's part of the circle of life. And it can be beautiful... cathartic and reinvigorating. There will be ups and downs, and as I have for the past five years, I will journal my journey here.

I may not be starting 2018 exactly where I thought I would be, but I'm starting it with my back straight and my head held high.

Love me or hate me... or even feel ambivalent towards me.

This is Beth, and she is fucking incredible when she spreads her wings and gives herself permission to be all the wonderful and complex things she is.
Welcome back, me.

And Happy New Year to you, my wonderful friends and readers. <3

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