I often wonder if diving inside as often as I do is healthy or not. Arguably, I can indeed provide more complete healing for my clients when I am in a balanced place emotionally.


What a huge word, I’ve never really felt balanced. Especially when it comes to my sexuality. My sex drive in particular. I could, if time permitted have sex 3-4 times a day. Here for sake of ease I will define sex as: vaginal penetration ending in mine and my partners orgasm. In the past I’ve had partners who were up for the challenge, some who were very spirited and our frequent sessions lasted a short amount of time. Others who were open to once a day for longer periods. And those who, unable to provide me with multiple sessions would, spend copious amounts of time spoiling me with affections.

Before the start of my monogamous relationship with MC and the trails of last year, I ended 2013 with multiple partners. It was a perfect blend of hard hitting attention, tranquil sensuality, and exciting interludes. My “bank” was being filled on every single level. *bank here does not mean vagina lol, though that was happening too* I’m posting today with a bit of .. well I don’t know the appropriate word here. Wonder maybe. Because I am wondering about this.

My sexual relationship with MC is something I’ve never experienced before. We’ve waited so long to get here, I had all of these perceptions about what it would be. Now we have all of these road blocks. *Surgery, my screwed up hormones, a god awful haircut that’s further impacting my self perception, hyper awareness of my body, house renovations, combining our lives, not quite connecting in some areas that I thought would be fluid, totally different views on sex in general.* 

Sex isn’t awfully important to him. It’s paramount to me. It validates me. When I’m not getting intimacy, the physical release, the connection, it feels like my energetic person is drying out. Leaving a delicate piece of something in the blazing sun. It domino’s out into the rest of my life. My intimacy with friends, family, clients becomes strained. Because I feel guilty. I feel broken. I feel neglected. I feel unattractive. I feel unworthy. I feel like I have nothing to give.

The tasks of my life become robotic and lifeless. The wild woman in me suffering under the weight of morose feelings. I feel as if my true self is being smothered out. I feel lost.

In these moments I’m not sure what to do. My desires to study more in tantric yoga with the intention of sharing makes me feel foolish. My desire for connection feels foolish. I start to think I’m the one with the problem. I want to much. It makes me feel separate from my D/s, like I’m not in a relationship at all. I fear scenes because of the fragile state of my sexuality. As if I won’t be heard there.

A spinning vortex of doubt.

I wish I could believe that it wasn’t important. I wish I could feel that.



Of all the forums I have to express these words, the appropriate one fails me currently. As I pack up my small two bedroom apartment moments have been bittersweet. Some have just been sad. A few, well a few have been regrets. I have made strides to say I would never live a life I would regret. Yet I find myself here, thinking of the ghosts of the last 18 months.

As my hands touch the very fiber of things i’ve spent 30 years trying to run from.  My mind reminds me that fear and devestation I’ve experienced in the first quarter of my life are dead. He is long gone, though his teachings and scars bind me at times. The gentle healing that my mom  attempted to provide after guilt drove her to action. I don’t have to carry that weeping suitcase around anymore either.

I try to highlight the things that she’s missing. How much she would have loved MC, how I am the things she always loved about me. Gentle, kind, loving, forgiving, and I’m sure for someone my smile still lights up the room. I’m sure they feel like my hand resting on their forearm is a moment of peace. That they look at me and see a million stars waiting to burst. That is the regret. Knowing I won’t ever see her recognize the way I’ve grown.

I think of my lovers here. Who held my head above water in the tsunami of my life. The one who sat with me in my miniscule bathroom and was present with me while I cried in my shower. Just there, a silent pillar of support for me. He helped me believe I was beautiful all the time. Not just when I was made up and ready to socialize. He made me feel worthy, appreciated, loved. *If you read this, thank you. For all of the ways you believed in me. You made me feel hopeful. For myself and my future.*

There are moments when all of the loss feels like total devestation. As if surely one day a board will Crack and the house of my life will implode on itself.

Then I remember that MC is someone who has always been my partner. He has always always supported when my own legs failed. But not so much that I’ve forgotten I have legs. I recognize his flaws. I feel as if I can love him without rose colored glasses shading my view. The feeling is calm and sure. A steadiness I’ve never felt. It’s a new adventure.

While I move forward with the lessons of my past, some of those things with varying degrees of presence, it’s hopeful.

I have hope. Thank you for walking with me. For walking for me when I couldnt.


A note to the other woman

No really it’s me. Not you.

And why sometimes watching my partner tie you, makes me feel sick.

My fella likes to joke that he is mongaish, (monogamous + ish = sort of. Not everyone can understand a particular relationship language) See most people look at us at think our relationship is brand new. They think, “oh how sweet, all in Luuurve with the newness of one another.” When the truth is far more complicated than that. It’s complicated and intense and we’ve grown in a thousand ways since the first time we met. Our respective histories being wildly different and surprisingly similar.

I’ve been mostly poly for the majority of my life and when I wasn’t poly, well I probably wasn’t being honest either. My understanding of his history is a bit different. With his heart and focus remaining beautifully loyal and dedicated to his one partner. As we’ve grown in our respective kink and self awareness, the both of us have softened our ideals. I’ve healed from some of the emotional trauma of my youth and I think he has learned to trust himself and reevaluate what intimacy means to him. (Many thanks to the teachers and guides who have lead us here.)

Now that I’ve decided to reboard  the monogamy ship, I’m dealing with issues I’ve never experienced before. Things like: jealousy, injured ego, altered self perception, self conciousness about situations I’ve never had issues with before. Because what is happening, every time his hands touch your lovely lovely skin, I immediately start comparing myself to you. Your play to ours. Your moans to mine. The way he watches you orgasm with his rope between yours legs. Your body writhing between his feet. I’m watching you share this intimate thing with my Top.

Sometimes, it carves into me like a chainsaw. Because I begin to wonder, are you better than me? Does your whimper give him the same adreneline rush mine does? Unfortunately no amount of reassurance from any party involved appeases the uncertainty in me. Like I said, it’s not you.

To be clear, my relationship with my Top has very few issues, because after a long struggle of watching one another from different shores we are finally here. Together. It’s also made me a bit selfish, surprisingly.  Where I’ve been too generous in the past, now I seek priority. I want from him what I’ve refused from others. Full attention. Our D/s aside, he is first my partner. Second my Top. 10 times out of 10 the sexual creature in me will see the same attractive features in you that he does. You will pique my interest in an almost identical way. I do not fault you your sexiness. I celebrate it. And two days from now when I again feel desireable, I will return to my original opinion of you. My issues will no longer cloud my appreciation of the masterpiece you are.

I voice this for multiple reasons: 1) after your scene with the Fella I may appear withdrawn. My emotional upheaval needs time to mend in the only way I know how. Self reflection. 2) I know I’m not the only one. With a community such as ours, education and support are paramount. We must learn to care for one another. There will be times you see me stumble when no one else does. A kind smile of understanding over a face of judgement changes a life.

In the mean time while I travel towards enlightenment, please know I love what you share with him. As my Top’s play partner you get a distinct advantage. Care, a friend, understanding, humor, honesty, appreciation and then you get everything that He provides. Which let’s be honest, is pretty freaking awesome.

A note to the other woman

One coin

It’s strange how euphoric I get being around/making plans with/executing said plans with MC. Our relationship has been a saga it seems. When I first moved to this city in 2013 I was hot off the presses. Coming out of an intense and tumultuous relationship that burned like dry ice. MC reached out to me on fetlife  a few months before and we had passed one another in the club saying brief hellos. Once I’d settled in/down enough post move and break up, MC asked me on a date. I guess this is where the true journey begins.

We had arranged to me on what I thought was a weekday following the Saturday we spoke. So our “date” night rolls around and I get no call, no text. I’ve been stood up! I was hurt. Rejected. *cried a little* memory fails me at this point but I can only imagine I reached out. Some what hurt. The first sign of our communication skills gone awry. He thought it was the next week. A slightly humurous patching up of feelings and we move on to our first date.

The date went swimmingly. He is always charming. Always attentive. VERY focused. My flash and distract skills fail over and over with him. He sees through my facade in not wanting to answer questions I’m uncomfortable with. But, the company is lovley. Fast forward a few events and my then healing heart is feeling panicky. I can’t be mongamous. I can’t let someone hold all the cards. I can’t I can’t I cant. So what did I do?

I’ll let you guess. . . .

In retrospect it was the best thing for us, in the moment it was the best thing for me. We parted romantic ways but it seemed I developed a friend who would not quit. Someone dedicated to adoring me from a distance. The next year found me … well, you can glance back. 2014 was about renewal. MC was a wonderful source of affirmation and support. I found myself with a friend. A best friend. (How lucky am I to have the friends I do?)

MC had starting dating someone, their time together was full of growing moments for our hero. His skill developed, he experience multiplied, his confidence grew. At some point over the months my heart recognized it. Because of the love I had received and am still receiving from someone very dear to me, I healed. (Thank you for guiding me. Thank you for loving me) I healed and well. … our communication issues got in the way. Dear MC had a new name.

It wasn’t a very nice name.

Sometimes I’m a snarky twit.

Sometimes I’m a total cunt.

There were moments where we would come together like a tsunami and the shore. Only to pull back suddenly and put our respective hearts back together. All of those things changed at the beginning of this year. It started with a simple text.


“Just watching TV on the couch and thinking of you.”

To be continued …

One coin

Puppy parade

Yesterday was a near whirlwind of activity. We were there (2 adults) then there was the puppy/children menagerie (6 all together). Each one of the creatures I adore piled into my little SUV and we drove downtown for the puppy parade.

If you are unfamiliar with Mardi Gras I suggest you check it out. Louisiana has a special kind of madness that happens this time every year. In the first two weeks of February there is a parade for just about everything. Our canine friends included.

On the way my hand casually slides over to his, one of a hundred thousand things I’m learning to love, our fingers loop together. Amid the chatter we start discussing what the eldest girls life dreams are. Ambitious. Driven. Wonderful things. Laughing I tell them I’m no where near where I had imagined I’d be. But, it doesn’t make me any less thrilled to be here. Then the big question comes.

Dad, what did you want to be when you grew up?

It’s something he and I have spoken about before, you see since he was a boy he’s known exactly what it is he wants to be. Insofar he represents those things wonderfully. Except for one thing. One aspect of his life that didn’t turn out quit the way he expected. A beautiful desire to never have divorced.

Rather than feel offense, my heart mourns for him. Mourns for their mother. I grieve for the children in my back seat. I start to realize what an odd place I’m in. Being dad’s girlfriend. Being a woman who will set an example for them. A woman vast degrees different from their mother. How important my job is, for whatever length of time, to love these growing people honestly.

Then he asks:

Kids, what’s the most important decision you’ll ever make in your life?

Clearly for some this will be different answers. So the youngest says:

Becoming a mother. I want to be a mom.

While important he disagrees. Then the boy:

Being the best person you can be.

Again, honorable but not the answer he is seeking. My fella, sorting through all of his feelings of past and present. He says:

Choosing the person you will spend the rest of your life with.

Trying to ignore the swelling of my heart I pay attention to the reactions of his offspring. I wonder how they feel about the person he’s chosen right now. I focus suddenly on the warmth of his hand and think of every moment I allowed myself to be second. Every moment I said: no its ok, I’ll be here when you get back. I’m glad I don’t have to do that anymore.

I so thankful I don’t have to be a pretend partner. I don’t have to exit stage left.

Puppy parade

I want it all

Dear reader,

Were you aware that i, am in fact a greedy woman? That I enjoy being fussed over. That it makes me feel desired.

Did you know, I feel most important when I’m courted. When I’m asked on a date.

I just learned that these things are needed to make me feel loved. I’m only newly aware that I want them. I want to be pined for. I want to step away from my phone and come back to texts plotting my next taking.

It prevents burnout, I’m learning. This is page one of the Loving Me handbook.

All my hugs and kisses too

I want it all

31 perfect days

October is always my favorite for so many reasons. As it again comes to a close, I am reminded that I will miss it. It also reminds me that I miss other things.

Cuddling after a spanking
Having a dominant
Forming routines
Loving someone openly
Loving them honestly
Saying “I love you”
Hearing “I love you”
Knowing I’m loved
Curling into someone’s arms at night

Probably 100 other things im forgetting. Possibly 1000.

31 perfect days