Saturday, November 18, 2017

Blank Spaces

Okay kids... it's time to get raw.

Over the past couple months, I've alluded to going through some tough times. I wanted to pour it all out here on my blog, but honestly, this time it was just too dark. I'd have ended up with you guys trying to track me down and calling 911.

I am finally coming out the other side now, and I'm ready to put the hell of the last few months into words as best I can.
So Dad died back in June. I did pretty well handling that... I was as prepared for it as one can possibly be, but it was still a fucking rotten gut punch. My dad was gone, is gone. He'd been with me all my life... always there for me. It was bad when Mom died, but I still had Dad.

It's a very different thing when you lose your last parent, and it doesn't matter one damn bit how old you are or how stable your life is. You still feel lost. The people who brought you into the world, gave you life, and loved you unconditionally, are gone.

But, still... I was doing good. I had been a caretaker for so long, first for years for Mom, then for Dad for nearly 10 years after she died. Don't ask me why I did it... I don't have a good answer. Maybe being the youngest, I just always assumed the task would fall on me? Maybe I used them as an excuse to avoid planting my own roots? I really don't know, but I devoted my life to taking care of my aging parents. I turned away some great guys... never got married. I never wanted kids, so that wasn't a thing, but I suppose it would have been nice to settle down with someone.

Regardless, I didn't. I took care of my folks. I don't regret it but I do harbor a bit of resentment towards my siblings for just letting me do it and not helping more than they did. It was easy for them. It wasn't easy for me.

Anyway, back to my story... I was doing well. My job was done and I could start living for me for once. I had no responsibilities to anyone and it was wonderful. I could relax. I wasn't always waiting for the phone to ring at all hours of the day and night.

I had my life back and I could do any damn thing I wanted.

And after a couple months of that, things got dark. Really dark. Suicidal dark. No, I never attempted it, but god, did I want to.

I starting believing I had nothing to live for any longer. No one needed me. The very thing that had given me life in the months after Dad's death were now killing me. My purpose was gone. I spent hours and hours and hours struggling, searching, for some sort of meaning, for some reason to keep going on. I found nothing.
I was tired... bone-deep exhaustion. Putting one foot in front of the other was just too damn much. There were several days that I just couldn't get out of bed. I wanted to close my eyes, not to sleep, but to have it all end. I didn't want to sleep... sleep led to either vivid, terrible nightmares or dreams where my parents were back and the world was whole again, but then I'd wake up again to the cold, stark reality of being completely alone.

I didn't want to sleep, I didn't want to be awake. I just wanted to cease existence. It affected my work, both because there were days I just couldn't make myself go in, and because when I was there, I did nothing of substance other than snapping at people and generally being a miserable person to be around. The only person that knew one iota of what I was going through was my boss because, well, she's my boss, and because I know it's something she's struggled with herself. She's my age and has also lost both her parents already and was the first one to point out to me the differences between losing one, and losing both. I confided in her, usually just sitting in her office and crying without being able to explain why I was crying. Thankfully, I work with some amazing people, including my her, who gave me the time I needed to heal myself.

And I didn't do it alone... but I'll get to that.
First I want to talk about how this all affected my Second Life. Escaping into SL gave me a brief respite from the pain, but it was just an illusion and even though I didn't recognize it at the time, it absolutely affected how I behaved in Second Life. I lost some friends during this time. I did some awful things and shoved people right out of my life. I was doing that in both worlds, but it was much easier in SL because I could just be written off for being a crazy bitch. People in the real world knew me better than that and didn't let me shove them aside.

But in Second Life... yeah, I did some damage to some people. My SL has always been sexual, but not to the point of treating others like dirt to get what I wanted at all costs.

And while I pushed most people out, I let one in.

The wrong one, of course. Someone who had actually been on my official Do Not Fuck list slipped past security and boarded me strapped with bombs. I knew it was wrong when I did it, but there was no stopping me.

He got me to do something I typically don't do... voice. And I've always shied away from it because voice is something incredibly intimate to me. It's something reserved for those who are special, those I trust to hear me at my most vulnerable and raw.
And he did... he got to hear me. And I fell, as I do, fast and deep and stupidly. This is a guy I truly like, whose company I truly enjoy. He cloaks himself in being a player but underneath, there is a very nice gentleman. If you know me, you know I have a history of being insecure at the beginning of relationships. I tend to stomp away if I'm not getting what I want, when I want it. And then I come to my senses and apologize. Multiply all that times about elebenty bazillion due to my depression and he, wisely, stepped away from me and I got a bit ugly about it.

Again, I'm not proud of my behavior. I couldn't stop it even though I knew it was juvenile and ridiculous. I could see what I was doing but was utterly powerless to stop doing it. 

And as that was spiraling out of control, I realized that I was either going to kill myself and get it over with, or I was going to get help.

I got help. I made emergency appointments with a therapist and with my doctor and I held nothing back with either of them. From my doctor, I got my medication adjusted and added to, and from my therapist, I got someone who's seen countless others living through what I'm living through. I got instructions to give myself a fucking break. I got compassion and empathy and the encouragement to open up to those closest to me, my siblings, about the darkness I'd been in.

I spent hours talking to my sister. Listening to her talking about her own hard time dealing with all this shit, just sharing the misery and making promises to be there for each other when we need it. Somehow word got around to the rest of my siblings and I've been inundated with pleas to come visit all of them, especially with the holidays coming up and knowing that December is, on the dark side, associated with suicide.

I'm figuring out if and when and where I want to go anyplace. I'll definitely do turkey day with one of them, but Christmas... still up in the air. It's never been a favorite holiday of mine anyway and I'm toying with the idea of actually being able to bow out of it this year and just spend the day on the couch eating Indian food. We'll see.
The point is that I'm not alone. My life has changed drastically in the last four months. It's only been four months. I deserve a fucking break after everything. I did a lot, gave up a lot, for my parents. I deserve a fucking vacation, a real vacation, with beaches and sunshine and fruity drinks and cabana boys. And I deserve the time to take a breather and let myself feel everything. I deserve to give myself the time to think about what I really want out of life.

The medication helped immensely, too. This is something I can't emphasize enough to people with depression. Don't be afraid of medicine. Don't listen to the people who say it does more harm than good. That's simply not true. It doesn't fix a damn thing, but it helps you be able to fix it yourself. I got something to help sharpen my focus, and something to help calm my brain at night so I could get some real sleep. Short term... the Ativan the doc gave me to sleep is already in the trash. It helped me rest and now I'm sleeping well without it.

I don't want to die anymore.

And in the midst of all that, I had this mess in SL to deal with. This guy, Mr. Do Not Fuck that I fucked. I've apologized to him, and he has accepted, but he's keeping his distance and I don't blame him. He saw a side of me that was ugly and didn't know me well enough to know that's not the true Beth, but I can't change the past. I want to try to salvage something out of it because I think I saw something good in him, something worthy. Time will tell, I suppose, if he'll let me back into his life. I destroyed his trust and that takes time to rebuild, and all of that hinges on whether or not he'll even give me a chance. I may not deserve it, but I'm back to the place where I realize I'm a pretty awesome chick and worthy of knowing. I don't think he'd regret it. He's not someone who would be, or could be, another Hugh but he is someone I see as a long term friend and a lover when time allows.

So, yeah, I have quite a bit of contrition about my behavior during this horrifying bout of depression, both in SL and out. Luckily, I've been able to salvage and make amends for my actions in the real world. Strangely, that's easier to do in RL than it is in SL. I find myself now with a very short friends list and a desire to repair old friendships and find some new ones. New lovers as well. Men that meet my... standards... are rather thin on the ground in SL, or maybe I need to cast my net wider and find some new places full of new people.

But that's not easy, either. The introvert in me dislikes the unfamiliar, or is terribly uncomfortable with it anyway.
I just know I'm damn glad I'm out of the darkness. Those of you who don't struggle with depression can't understand, though I know you try and I'm thankful for that.

And those of you who have been through it, or are currently going through it, you understand the darkness, as well as that overwhelming sense of relief when you realize you're waking up in the morning without that heaviness weighing you down, when you realize you're coming out the other side and that you survived. You survived! I survived.

And I'm going to keep on surviving. I'm strong. I'm a good human. I'm a sensual lover. I'm a wonderful friend. I deserve to be happy, to find my bliss.

So, yeah... onward and upward. Living isn't for sissies. I am a kick-ass goddess and I've got a lot of living left to do.

I just have to figure out where to start. :-)

Monday, November 13, 2017

Shout Out to the Men

Lest anyone think my last blog post was... unkind... towards men, let me set the record straight.
Guys, I love you.

No, seriously. I fucking love men. I love fucking men. Men are, unequivocally, the very best.

I get frustrated with you guys sometimes... I mean let's face it, men and women communicate very differently and sometimes when members of the opposite sex try to talk, it comes out garbled as fuck even though they're essentially saying the same thing.

But holy shit, do I love you guys!

Men are the cream in my coffee. My coffee might be delicious without it, but damn... put some cream in there and it's a whole different dimension of lusciousness.

You have the cocks.

Women are extraordinary and beautiful and soft and fabulous... but no cocks.

Men have the cocks.
It's all about the cock. It's what I crave. It fills my dreams and my waking hours. I simply cannot get enough cock... and without men, there is no cock.

And with the cock, there is the man who owns it. That virility that comes with a man... a MAN... walking around all day, living, breathing, with that cock in his pants. Knowing it's there... I can only imagine how it feels to wield such... power. It's breathtaking to me.

And those men who know that, those who understand that there are women like me who utterly crave it, women who will sink into the deepest depths of sinful and erotic depravity for it, those men who love and respect women like me for our own intrinsic sexuality... god, they're addicting. Those men who revel in a woman who isn't afraid of the cock, or the man... fuck... I want them all.
For me, it's completion... the yang to my yin. Dark and light. Hard and soft. There cannot be one without the other. How do we feel something soft without knowing what hard is? How do we see the light without knowing the dark as well?

I need the cock, the man, to be free to be the woman I am.

And, no, angry feminist women, I'm not saying I'm not complete without a man. I am saying that with a man, I am my best.

Because I love men. I love to pour myself into a man, to give him all of me.

Not every man, no... but for a select few, oh yes... oh fuck yes.

So, no, I'm not have "man troubles again." I am spreading my wings and exploring, indulging. I am luxuriating in the company of men and continuing to learn, every single day, as much as I can about them.
Infuriating, virile, hilarious, red-blooded, confusing, intelligent, aggravating, mature, strong, exasperating, alpha men.

I fucking love you.

Saturday, November 11, 2017

Muddled

Men confuse the fuck out of me. 

I'm 48 years old and I still don't understand a god damn thing about them.
Maybe I overthink them... maybe they really are all just Neanderthals who want to fuck when they want to fuck and want a stable of women to be available for them whenever they want so they can spread their seed far and wide.

What is that thing? Men are from Mars, women are from Venus? I don't know, I never read the book.

But we're certainly two very different creatures.

I know I like to fuck, a lot. And, sure, there are plenty of men in Second Life that are ready, willing and moderately able to fuck at any given moment. But... and this is going to sound arrogant as fuck... most of them aren't up to my standards. And that's not trying to say my standards are better than anyone else's, they're just mine. Everyone has their own and not everyone's mesh together well.

I know what I like. I know the type of men I like.

And they're pretty rare. Maybe my desires when it comes to men are far too specific. He has to be an alpha male. He has to be confident without arrogance. He has to be fucking intelligent and able to string words together into coherent thoughts and sentences, both in voice and in typing. He has to be mature by MY definition, not theirs or anyone else's. He has to dress well and put time into his avatar and look. He has to have dark hair because I'm not into blonds or redheads.
And, I guess really above all else, he has to have the patience to deal with a complicated woman. I'm not one dimensional, nor will I pretend to be. On any given day, I'm a million different emotions and thoughts. I try very hard to be light and easy-going and to just roll with whatever is happening around me, but sometimes I trip over that. I want what I want and, to quote my girl Taylor Swift, "There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have." It absolutely drives me nuts when I want something and can't have it right then and there when I want it, immediately. Absolutely makes me bonkers.

And, yes, I fucking know that I can't have everything I want on demand. Hugh was excellent about tempering my expectations. No man has been able to do that quite as well as he could, though Michael came close before he ghosted like a little chicken-shit.

I like to give myself, and my love, to men who are all of those things. "Oh, you check off ALL the boxes and we have sexual chemistry that is electrifying! Here, have me, all of me!"

And you bet your sweet ass that more often than not, I have that shoved right back at me. Second Life is chock full of women who, for whatever reason, aren't able to pour out that need inside them to be nurturers and caretakers and intimate lovers and to worship a man from head to toe and everything in between. The good guys in SL, and even quite a few of the shitty ones, have no trouble with women falling ass over teacups for them. It's a smorgasbord for them.
Smorgasbord of Ass
And it gets exhausting being one of those women who feel like they have so much to give, and need to give it and then have the men get cold feet and back off because there are twenty other women waiting in line who suck cock just as good and they want to make sure they get to sample everything on the buffet.

I guess I sort of understand it from both sides. There is absolutely competition among women in SL for the men and not so much the other way around from what I've seen. I certainly don't have men fighting over me or trying to shove others out of the way to spend an evening in my company.

Maybe that's just me, though. Perhaps I think too highly of my own value? Sure, we all like to think we're all that and a bag of pretzels but none of us are any better than anyone else. We can all make a pretty avatar but it's not so easy to make sure we're also pretty on the inside.

But there have been a few men that I've crossed paths with in SL that have thought I was stunning both inside and out. Hugh, certainly, and he set the bar pretty fucking high for men accepting and loving me for all my beauty AND flaws.

Michael, when we were first getting to know each other, once asked me how many men get to know the real Beth. He was allowed inside where I don't let others go... got to see places others never reach. The vulnerable Beth that wears her heart on her sleeve and has been bruised a lot. No, I don't especially hide it, not consciously, but there are just a very few men who get to experience all of Beth in her rawest state.
That's just protection. That's just common sense.

And when I start to feel myself getting to a place with a man where that part of me begins to show, and the man even so much as taps his foot on the brakes, I cover it up and back the fuck off. The walls come up pretty damn fast and it's hard to get them to come down again.

I guess that's where I am right now. I don't know... I'm just babbling. A million thoughts in my head, swirling and swirling, topsy-turvy and inside out.

Usually when I write, at the end I've unmuddled some of those muddled thoughts.

I still feel pretty muddled right now.

I guess I should go with my gut and pull away, though that's not always easy. I'm not good at keeping a man at arm's length... giving him some of me, but not all. Maybe I should give it a try? Hold some of myself back? A little ice with my fire? I don't like playing games and would much rather just be myself but... I suppose there's apparently some value in playing a little hard to get? Making a man want more from me than I will give him? Making myself pretend to be emotionally, physically and pixally unavailable from time to time?

Eh, why not? What do I have to lose at this point, right?
This is my first holiday season as an adult orphan. It would be nice to have someone by my side to put their arms around me and tell me I'll survive it.

Maybe that's the first lesson in being an adult orphan... that you're all alone and no one will ever be there again to put their arms around you and that you've only got yourself for comfort.

Well, that's a grim prospect, isn't it?
Guess I'll just stumble on home to my cats...
Alone...
Unless you want to come along.

Sunday, October 29, 2017

That BDSM Profile Test

Hi there! How is everyone?

I'm doing better, you guys... it's a struggle, but I'm fighting my way back. I've realized some things about myself recently. Not anything I'm quite ready to get into here yet, but I will. I'm still absorbing some things, figuring some things out.

But I'm feeling much better.
This morning, I was spending some time with a new friend of mine. We're in that place where we're discussing our likes/dislikes, etc., and he mentioned that fetish test people have all over their profiles.

I've taken it before, but not recently. The results change every time, depending on where I am in my life and what I'm into at the moment, but for right now, this seems to be what my profile looks like:

100% Switch
100% Rope bunny
99% Exhibitionist
98% Voyeur
83% Masochist
74% Vanilla
70% Submissive
58% Experimentalist
56% Rigger
53% Non-monogamist
48% Primal (Prey)
42% Daddy/Mommy
41% Brat
37% Slave
35% Dominant
30% Sadist
8% Primal (Hunter)
3% Pet
1% Master/Mistress
1% Ageplayer
0% Degradee
0% Boy/Girl
0% Degrader
0% Owner
Let me say first off, I disagree with some of these results and take great offense at the 1% age play most especially. Not sure how I answered any of the questions for them to come up with that 1%... I am completely opposed to age play. It makes me ill.

And then there's that 42% Mommy thing. What. the. fuck? That should be a big 0% as well. And, oh my christ, 41% brat? Nooooooo... I try very hard not to be a brat. It's not sexy, mature or attractive.
I think what this list/test basically tells me is that I'm prone to go with the mood, or the flow, of what is happening around me. I'm not any one thing. I'm not a domme, or a submissive, and I'm sure as hell not vanilla. But sometimes I'm absolutely a domme, and a submissive, and completely vanilla.
I'm a sensual woman... and I feel off my partner's desires. It brings me pleasure. I don't need a label. I'm probably more submissive than anything else, but... doesn't define me.

Like Ani diFranco says, I am 32 flavors and then some.
I am, apparently, more vanilla than I thought I'd be... though I guess that's changed with the times, too. I've no wish to be collared and submit to anyone right now. I can't give that much of myself to anyone right now.

The last time was too big of a cluster fuck.
But I will say this... I like my new friend. A lot.

He's funny and cute. And we mostly just talk and that's a nice change. And that's all I have to say about him right now.
I'll do another post soon and let you all know what's going on in my real life and how I'm trying to kick this particularly bad bout of depression. I have to admit, this has been the worst it's ever been for me, and though I understand why, I'm still struggling with making it stop.

Sunday, October 8, 2017

Life is a Shit Show

I'm trying to make my way back into Second Life.

It's weird. It all feels very weird. I'm not especially comfortable at the places I used to hang out because the woman I did so wrong is frequently there. I feel I owe it to her to NOT be in her line of site, even though she has, rightfully, blocked me.

I haven't felt very much like having sex... and since, you know, I've loudly and proudly proclaimed that's all I'm in SL for, there hasn't been much for me to do.

Oddly enough, feeling the way I do, I met a man last night. He was funny and smart and sexy and yes, I took him home and we had sex. And it was good sex. He was great and I orgasmed, hard, for the first time in a couple of weeks. That was great so maybe I'm finding my way back to myself?

We'll see.
The real world certainly hasn't been a great place to be, either. I lived in Las Vegas for a few years and the shooting really punched me in the gut. I won't launch into one of my anti-gun rants here... like so many others have said, in 2012 the United States apparently decided that the lives of first graders were less important than allowing every lunatic in the country to own guns and if that's okay, then there is nothing I can say that would convince anyone otherwise.

I'm just so fucking sick and angry over it all. It's just beyond my comprehension how certain factions can be so blind to the need for common sense gun legislation.

America is a very stupid country.
And then Tom Petty passed away. God damn it all.

There are some people who don't understand why people get so upset when a celebrity dies. I didn't know Tom Petty, but his music was the soundtrack of my life. I've loved him as long as I can remember. I've seen him numerous times and loved every moment of that goofy, talented man's career.

I think that for those of my generation, our mortality is biting us on the ass. The musicians and actors we grew up with are starting to die and it's not an easy thing to face.

Oh? We're not immortal? What?!
The reality of being an adult orphan is sinking in, too. The first few months after Dad died, I was really in a pretty good place. He lived to a nice, ripe old age... and for the first time in decades, I wasn't anyone's caretaker anymore.

No responsibilities to anyone but myself. I didn't have to sit there with my phone in reach 24/7 waiting for the phone calls I knew would come, didn't have to plan my days around his needs. I was... am... free.

And that was a great feeling for a while. If you've never been a caretaker before, it's hard to understand how difficult it is. How draining it is. Mentally, physically, emotionally... by the time Dad passed, I had nothing left for myself.
But now... what the fuck am I supposed to be doing? I pushed aside everything except work to keep a roof over my head in order to take care of my parents. My alone time has always been precious to me... but now I've got far too much of it. I've thought about traveling but... hell, I don't have the money for that, nor do I really want to go anywhere. Who'd watch the cats??

That's a joke... I'm not without people in my life and have plenty who would take care of my beasts for me. I just can't find the motivation to get my shit together and go to the ocean. It calls to me, and I know damn good and well that a few days sitting by the sea would fill me back up with hope and peace.

There are some other things I need to do first, though, namely take care of my health. I had back surgery six years ago and I'm having trouble again. Have an MRI scheduled for next week and I'm really hoping I'm not going to have to go under the knife again but whatever it is, I know it needs to be fixed. I have got to lose some weight but I can't embark on any real exercise program until my back is fixed so I'm sort of in limbo now.
I joined OK Cupid, too... and what a mess that is! What I've found is that men my age that are single are mostly divorced, and a five minute conversation with them quickly reveals why they're all divorced! Dating sucks ass, and I'm not even really sure if I want a man, so I've already backed away from that. I'm sure I'll dip my toe back into those waters again, but not right now. I'm just not ready to share that part of myself with anyone in the real world.

So, yeah, life is a shit show, y'all. I'm trying to find something, anything, to grasp onto that will bring back my joy. I know it's out there. I've been down before and always pick myself back up. It's a waiting game. I know from experience that the morning will come when I wake up and want to jump out of bed and start living again and trying to figure out what I want my life to be now that I have nothing holding me back. Right now, it's just scary. I can do anything I want... but I don't know what that is. 

It wasn't supposed to be like this at 48. 

shrugs

Saturday, September 23, 2017

Into The Darkness

I have always been of the belief that when Second Life isn't fun anymore, it's time to log off for a while.

It may be only a day, or two, or a week or even a month, but sometimes that break is necessary.

This is one of those times... for several reasons. Some are my own doing, some are others.

Let's start with those reasons first, shall we? Well, really, it's just one other person. Yes, ladies and gentleman, Michael mother-fucking Stewart. And, yes, I know I had it coming.

About 3, maybe 4, weeks ago, Michael was in Chicago, at O'Hare, getting ready to fly home from a business trip. We were chatting on Skype before he boarded the plane... he blew me some kisses and that was the last time I heard from him.

Pleading, begging, threatening, crying, cussing... nothing I did could get him to answer me. Oh, and not just me, either. He's not logged into SL (at least under THAT account), he's not contacted any other friends... he's just gone. 

For all I know, he could be dead. 

But yeah, I scoured the obituaries pretty hard and he has an unusual first name, and I found nothing so I don't think that's the case. And if he is dead, he won't be reading this anyway. 

No, he's just a dick, like so many other men. I'm not sad, or even really hurt anymore. Mostly I'm just disgusted. Mostly I think he's a coward. 

I've had people point out a couple of men that they believe are Michael's alts. I flat-out asked one of them and he, of course, denied it. 

shrugs

I have no way of knowing. And at this point, it doesn't matter if his name is Tom, Dick, Harry or Michael. He can kiss my ass.

His departure left me with some other issues I had to deal with. Some I handled well... others, not so much. I did something I'm really not proud of, and that I thought I could live with but, no... I did an ugly thing and it's weighing on me like a ton of bricks. 

I've never been too terribly shy about the fact that my Second Life is all about sex with men. It's not part of my... God, I don't want to call it game play because I don't view SL as a game... but my pattern of behavior to have close female friends. I have one female friend in SL that I've had for years, and we hardly ever even talk. It's just nice knowing she's there. And when we do talk, it's rarely actually much about what is happening in SL as much as it is what's happening in our real lives. I would actually consider her more of an RL friend than a SL friend.

When I got together with Michael, we decided we wanted to be intimate friends with some other couples. 

And so we did. 

And then he disappeared.

One couple that I went through a lot with in relation to Michael... well, I just told them that I couldn't have anything to do with anything that reminded me of him anymore. Was that a shitty thing to do? Maybe. No. I don't know. I just know how I was feeling and I didn't want, and still don't really want, to talk about him. It makes me angry. 

But then there was another couple. A woman Michael had known for a long time and her partner. I really hit it off with them... both of them. She became what I would consider a close friend. We had a lot in common and she's just a really lovely person.

And then she and her partner broke up. I had a decision to make. Continue being friends with her, or continue being one of his lovers? 

Yeah, I broke the woman-code. I went with my "I'm in SL to fuck men, not be friends with women" line and crushed her. 

I thought I could live with that decision. SL is for sex, RL is for female friends. That was my delineation. 

And it still is. So why do I feel like such a piece of shit? 

Because I knowingly hurt someone, badly. Someone who absolutely didn't deserve it for some pixel cock. 

Oh, he's a good lover. He's great at the sex stuff. But I knew going into it that this wasn't a man I was going to fall in love with and have a relationship with. We were just going to fuck. And finding good lovers isn't all that easy in SL. 

So I chose him. 

And now I'm really not happy. 

And I feel like a terrible, awful person, and I deserve to feel this way. This isn't a plea for sympathy, or an attempt to make it about me. This other woman is a kind, beautiful soul. Funny, smart. Sympathetic, empathetic. She was a real friend to me and I shit all over her. I'm a monster for doing that. 

There were a hundred ways for me to handle that situation and I went low. I went very low. 

And that's not the kind of woman I am, not the woman I want to be. 

Second Life can be insidious. It can get inside your head and make you behave in ways that you shouldn't, wouldn't, in the real world. And I let it happen. That one is all on me. I could have turned my back on him, I could have turned my back on both of them. All I had to do was explain that I'm in SL for one reason... I didn't have to fuck him. I didn't have to have him. 

I did, though, and I feel dirty about it. 

That's really only happened to me once before in SL, years ago, when I created an alt to be with Hugh when I was partnered to someone else. I lasted less than a week because it made me feel dirty. I did the right thing then... broke up with my partner, told him the truth. It hurt him, but I was in love with Hugh. Sneaking around made me feel dirty.

And I feel dirty now and I can't fix it. I hurt her and no amount of saying I'm sorry would fix it. I dug my grave. 

So... yeah. Time for another break. 

Mind you, I say that as I'm logged into SL. But I'm not there to fuck. I can't stop shopping, and taking photos... maybe. I don't know. 

I'm just keeping quiet, keeping to myself, until I feel like I'm ready to face it all again.



Saturday, September 2, 2017

Revisiting Feminism

I know the subject of this blog post isn't going to be everyone's cup of tea, so I'm going to let you all look at some filthy photos of Michael doing Very Naughty Things to me while I rant.

Because I'm fucking going to rant about Taylor Swift.
Specifically, I'm going to rant about how she's being treated by this new generation of 3rd wave feminists.

You see, they don't like her. At all. They like to throw all sorts of insults at her... she's always playing the victim, she's a liar, she's this, she's that... but the one that really angers me is when they call her a "white feminist".

That's a thing now... white feminist... and it's not a compliment. What does it mean?

I'll give you a hint... it has to do with the color of her skin.
These "feminists", and no, I don't consider them actual feminists, are absolutely pissed off beyond belief that this pasty-faced, blonde white chick is... um...

What exactly is she doing? OH, yes, she's making music! She's writing songs and singing about what she knows, and no, it's not exactly a gritty urban upbringing. How fucking dare she, right? Who could ever relate to that?!

They've gone so far as to call her an Aryan Princess... the face of the neo-Nazis.

What? WHAT?!

No, seriously, they have. According to them, she's an icon within the white power movement.

What absolute and utter bullshit.

Why do they say this? Because she kept her politics to herself during the last election. She didn't yell about being Team Hillary, therefore she's obviously Team Trump, though she never said a bloody word about him, either.

I don't know how she voted. It's not anybody's god damn business. Would I have liked her to speak out? Sure... but it's not my fucking place to try to push her to do that.
And it makes me fucking livid that these "feminists" have branded her Public Enemy #1.

Look, I know that women of color are marginalized far more than white women. I'm not an idiot.

But I'd look like a total dumbass if I decided to take up the fight of the women of color, being as I'm not one. Do I support them? Abso-fucking-lutely. Will I have their backs in their struggle? Of course.

There are plenty of strong, intelligent, amazing women of color out there leading the charge, all across the spectrum of industries and politics. Wouldn't it be insulting for Taylor fucking Swift to try to fight their battles? They are doing great on their own... they don't need her to try to push them out of the way and speak for them. They have strong, amazing, clear and loud voices that should be heard.
So why is everyone dragging Tay-Tay, huh? Why can't she just be who and what she is and do her thing with Jezebel shitting all over her on a daily basis?

I choose my own path, and my own battles. I practice the kind of feminism my mother taught me. I'm old enough to be a product of 2nd wave feminism and I'm pretty damn proud of that. Being a woman has never once stopped me from doing or being anything I want to be because I never even considered that as an option.

Get in my way and try to hold me back because I have a vagina instead of a penis, and I'm going to mow you the fuck down without breaking a stiletto heel.

And if some little insignificant male has to believe I'm somehow lesser than he is simply because I'm homogametic instead of heterogametic, I'm just going to point and laugh at him cowering in the corner while I'm on my way to the top.
I'm also not naive enough to think that women of color don't have a more difficult time than I do.

As I said, I'm not an idiot.

But it's all gotten twisted together into one issue when it's really two... misogyny and racism.

Both are rotten and idiotic but they aren't the same thing. Right now, the problem in this country, the US, is racism. By and large, women aren't being held down by the patriarchy, despite what the 3rd wave feminists want you to believe. Most of these girls are still in college, are being influenced by each other, and have no idea what it's like out in the real world.

And seriously, out here in the real world, it's not bad for women. Are there still problems? Yeah, there always will be and we're always going to have to fight the good fight but no one is keeping us home barefoot and pregnant.

Donald Trump is an absolute piece of shit. He's the worst thing to happen to our country since Jim Crow laws. Yes, that includes 9/11. Trump as president is far worse for the United States than 9/11 was in terms of damage. For all the horror of 9/11, this country united in its wake.

But the Trump presidency? Dividing our country in two and it's going to take ages to fix it. The man hates anyone who isn't white. Truly, the man hates most everybody, but he's found his niche in scaring stupid white people into fearing anyone who isn't as pasty as he is. Yes, I know he's actually orange but I'm talking about underneath the fake tan.
THIS is what we should be enraged by... not Taylor Swift. I mean, Jesus, seriously, people. It's Taylor Swift.

Don't get me wrong... I fucking adore her, but, c'mon... it's Taylor Swift. She's singing songs about boys for the most part, though I'm loving this new angry Taylor.

I could write for ages about how she's been misinterpreted and wronged by the pop press and the world at large but I'm going to try to refrain a little.

I think she's gotten a bad rap for a lot of things. So she's dated a few guys over the last decade... She's a young woman in her 20s. Better she date around than get married to some dude just because and have it end in yet another celebrity divorce. Jesus, when I was her age, I'd dated far more guys than she has. People, that's fucking normal.
And as for her music, and writing songs about her exes... who the fuck doesn't do that?! EVERY songwriter writes about love, the good and the bad. It's what they fucking do.

I didn't see anyone giving Timberlake shit when he wrote Cry Me A River. 

She writes songs that young women relate to. Heartbreak is a big theme in music, you know? Why does she get so much grief over it? Not your kind of music? Okay, great! So what? Don't listen and move on with your life!
Playing the victim? How about "not taking any shit"? She refuses to put up and shut up... Talk about feminism! Bravo for her. People are so good at ragging on her music that they don't take the time to listen to it. 

And the shitty thing is that it's mostly women. We're our own worst enemies. 

Ladies, you can't claim to be a feminist and then turn around and slam other women for behaving, saying, existing in ways you don't approve of!

That isn't how it fucking works. You can support her without liking her music. You can support her without relating to her. 
And that's why I can't stand this 3rd wave feminism bullshit. It's all a bunch of college aged social justice warriors who believe their way is the only way. Feminism is about being the woman you want to be, and not letting anyone stand in your way. 

It's about being strong. Forging your own path in this world. For Christ's sake, it's about not taking any shit for being who you want to be! You don't get to tell any woman who she can and can't be, damn it, or how she's supposed to act, or look, or dress, or sing, or vote, or speak. 

I don't know where these women are getting their entitlement from... this belief that they get to pave the way for other women. I paved my own. Yes, there were other women along the way that may have cleared it, but damn it, I paved it. 

And I didn't have to do it on the backs of other women that I knocked down and crawled over. Other women helped me, I helped other women. The women in my life have supported me, as I have them. 
It's stupid to be trying to shut other women up because you don't like the words they're saying, or sometimes not saying. 

You just don't get to do that. 

Be fucking nice to each other. Don't give in to the divisiveness that Trump is fostering. Just be kind. Turn the other cheek. Be who you want to be, not who anyone else thinks you should be.

But don't be mean.
Oh, and have sex. Lots of it. With people who make your toes curl.

Like this guy. ;-)

Sunday, August 27, 2017

Late Night Date Night

I never know for sure when I'm going to get to see Michael. His real life is unpredictable and the best laid plans and all that...

It's not easy.

But then, the best things in life never are, are they?
I'm a night owl. He's an early bird. Add being on different sides of the country to that and, well, it's not easy!

Communication is key... as is trust. Being in an open relationship certainly helps... itches can still be scratched even if the other isn't available.

Being a night owl worked in my advantage last night, however, when my man found himself unable to sleep and though it was 2am my time, I was still awake.
We talk a lot even when we aren't inworld together. Skype is our friend! So when we are able to be together in SL, the clothes usually don't stay on too long.

We both had the itch last night... and scratched it soooooo good.

No one fucks me like this man does. No one can get inside my head, and my body, and make me feel the way he does.

No one makes me erupt like Michael. The orgasms that rip through me, over and over, just like wild waves crashing against the rocks.
When he touches me... he touches my mind, my soul, as well as my clit. He ignites the fire so deep inside me that there is no holding back anything from him. My orgasms are heavy and deep and oh-so-wet. Michael Stewart makes the juices flow like a river... it curls my toes and makes me rumble like an earthquake. Every nerve ending in my body pulses and aches until he soothes them. I turn into a jibbering-jabbering idiot full of nonsense words and pleas.

And it just. doesn't. stop. We women are lucky to be able to have orgasm after orgasm and Michael... Michael exploits that. There is no one single little orgasm... they loop together, ebbing and flowing, until I'm nearly unconscious with it. Every orgasm leads to another and another until I can't tell where one stops and another begins.
It's sublime and insane. It's perfection. Cataclysmic.

He leaves me shaking and spent... a sloppy wet babbling mess.

He touches the most intimate parts of me. He fucks the most intimate parts of me.
I'm not letting this one go. No way, no how. Michael is mine, and I am his. We're inside each other... part of each other. 

I would say we're lucky to have found each other... and we are. But above that, we work at it as well. Wacky schedules, wacky time zones... wacky real life. We could drift apart during those times we're not together but neither of us want that. So we make it work because it's worth it. 

Giving up those orgasms? Never. 

Giving up this man? Never.

We're just climbing the first hill on this roller coaster... and oh what a ride it's going to be!

Monday, August 14, 2017

Priorities

Well, here we are. Me. Michael. Together.

I know that pisses some of you off. 

One thing I've learned in my time on Earth is that unhappy people just can't stand to see others happy. And there are a handful of you out there who have expressed their unhappiness that he and I are a thing. 

And since I've not posted about him in a couple of weeks, I'm sure you unhappy folks were rubbing your hands together in glee assuming that the worst had happened.
Yeah, no, sorry... we didn't break up. 

You see, when you're a fucking adult, there are some times when Second Life needs to take a back burner to real life. And you don't bitch and moan and whine about it, you get on with what you need to do. 

Michael and I have an understanding... as Hugh and I did, as well. Real life comes first, no questions asked. 
Okay... questions are fine. When you care about another human, you ask them about their lives. How about 'no guilt trips' instead? Maybe compassion, understanding and empathy instead?

Michael and I haven't been apart... we've just not been in Second Life together for a couple of weeks. He's had his things to do, and I've had mine, and neither of us would respect each other in the slightest if either of us ignored those things that come first.

Because that would be stupid. Truly.
As much as we might sometimes want it to be, Second Life isn't the real world. For the vast majority of us, it doesn't pay our bills, it doesn't cook our food, it doesn't take care of our families or pets. It doesn't power the electricity, doesn't pay our mortage, and exists in this little box we have on our desks or on our laps.

And it's not going to be there for us when the going gets tough. Yes, some of the people we meet there might be, but if they're that close, there's a damn good chance you have other ways of staying in touch besides SL.
Michael has a far busier real life than I do and his attention and devotion to those things are part of the reason I adore him. I'm not talking about the big life stuff, like when Dad died. I'm just talking about the littler things - a busy stressful week at work, a family vacation, hell, just taking the car in for a tune up or something.

I know there are people in SL who either ignore those things or feel angry about having to deal with them because it cuts into their time in Second Life. And there are also plenty of people who get pissed because their partners or friends have to take time away from SL for the real world.

What. The. Fuck?
I apologize for the quality of these photos... there was a fucking reunion happening!
In the entirety of the circle that is the Life of Michael, I know I don't come first, or even second, or even third. I know I'm damned important to him but if the chips fell, I know where I'd place. And guess what? It's the same on my end.

And that's as it fucking should be. He and I are never, ever going to transition into the real world... neither of us wants that, or needs that. It's odd how I feel like I have to explain that, but... holy shit, some people just don't get it. I have this amazing man in my life and he is truly surprised and appreciative that I don't get angry or give him shit or try to make him feel guilty for not logging in for a couple of weeks.
Life happens. Life happens, or it should. I understand that everyone comes into SL from a different situation... and it's not any of my business what those situations are. But if life isn't happening for you outside of our virtual world, perhaps it's time to log off and go smell some flowers. Get some damn sunshine... go to a yoga class... take the dog for a long walk and do some bonding with the real people in your world.

I knew where Michael was... I knew how he was spending his days. He didn't disappear (THAT is uncalled for with the umpteen million ways we have to communicate outside of SL). Neither of us are people who need to be logged in 24/7.

And that gives us the freedom to keep feeding our relationship. Our friendship. We're real live human beings and we talk about things that have nothing to do with Second Life. We can go a couple of weeks without "seeing" each other in pixel form.
I mean, sure, it's wonderful when we are in SL together... being together that way is the very best, but those little Skype conversations are nearly as cherished and just as important.

And that time when we're not together in SL just makes us stronger. When we're together, it's because we want to be, not because we feel some sort of obligation. Not because we feel like we just have to log in and be together. It's a "YAY! I'm not busy right now and neither are you so lets spend some time together!" It's not always sexual... sometimes it's nothing more than sitting on the couch talking.

And, yeah... sometimes it's "Baby, get naked because it's been two weeks and god damn it, it's time to fuck." Edit: Not an actual quote.
So, yeah... sorry to the folks who were hoping we'd crashed and burned. Mostly, I'm sorry that your lives are so unhappy that you take pleasure in the idea of someone else's misery, real or imagined.

This man, my Michael mother-fucking Stewart, was totally unexpected. And how much fun is that? Lots of fun, let me tell you! A man who has his shit together! Mature! Intelligent! Hilarious! Sexy as hell! A man who's self-worth isn't tied into how many hours he spends logged into Second Life!

Hot diggity damn!
I didn't think lightning was going to strike twice for me after Hugh. I mean, it's been nearly two years and I hadn't found anyone else who really knew how to balance Second Life and real life. It was either all SL, all the time, or just the opposite. Men who I met in SL who wanted to shut it off and exist solely in other chat applications, or on the phone, or on a webcam... or, worst of all, men who wanted to meet in real life.

I don't want that... either of those things. SL is SL and RL is RL. No, I don't role-play as someone I'm not in Second Life, but I do like the separation of the two. I love sex in SL. Love creating that world with someone... and then being able to turn it off, and then back on when the time is right.

Second Life is a beautiful escape from the real world. I look like a goddess, have an unlimited clothing budget, an amazing house, etc., etc., but at the end of the day, I've also got it pretty fucking good in the real world, too. I'm in a good place and I'm probably happier than I should be so soon after becoming an adult orphan but, hey... I paid my dues and have no regrets. I know a lot of people who can't say the same thing.
This... this is my fun. This is where there is no silly drama, or limitations. And I have a man who gets that, and operates under the same principles I do. 

Oh, and he adores me. 

All in all, it's a pretty sweet fucking deal. 

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