Saturday, December 16, 2017

Maui... Wowie

For as long as I can remember (in SL) I've been seeking the perfect adult sexual paradise. Some have come close... some miss the mark by miles. I even tried opening one of my own and that didn't work, either.


You guys, I might have found it. 
There is a naughty little oasis called the Maui Swingers Resort. No, no landmarks for you. This place is private and means it. In order to join, you must be recommended by a full member.

heh... full member...

And a full member is a person who has not only survived the interview process, and there is one, but has also proven that they are at Maui for the reason the sim exists... Sex. Sex, and lots of it. Quality sex.

Whaaaaaat? Quality and quantity?
Speaking in tongues... French tongues...
No... I'm not a full swinger yet and can't recommend anyone for membership yet, and that's due to a tiny quirk in their system that I'll discuss a bit further down

Right now, I just want to talk about my experiences here in the last couple of days since I was granted membership. 

I am having fun, my darlings! My sexual encounters thus far have been all that and a bag of damn chips. 

And that's a good thing because my lover of the past couple of months is currently treating me like a pariah due to a disagreement we had over the level of my bisexuality. I conceded, by the way, but I'm still in the shit house for some baffling reason I've yet to discern. 

But that's for another post. This is about pleasure. 
Let's take, for example, this delightful French gentleman I met this afternoon. I do have photos of the other men I fucked, but I neglected to ask them for permission to post them so they stay in the private folder. That's right, loves... I don't share everything I do. 

I met this fine male specimen at a party today. He asked for a dance... and dances at Maui are simply foreplay to the main event. Sex is expected. If you are there, you are expected to be there to fuck, or to be open to the possibility. Socializing is fine and encouraged, but Maui isn't designed to be one of those places where people just stand around staring at each other for hours with nothing else happening.

Thank god.
Granted, I've only been a partial member for a couple of days now, but if what I've seen so far is any indication of the normal atmosphere (sexually charged) of Maui, I'm in the right place.


I am ever-so-hopeful that Maui is all it seems to be. I'm certain it has it's fair share of drama and the like. I think that's unavoidable to some extent, but it seems to be firmly in check.

People there like sex and they are there to have sex with multiple partners. 

Variety. Joyful, blessed variety. Sure, I've seen plenty of familiar names from those other places at Maui, but I'm also seeing a lot I don't know. 

Fresh meat!
That sounds incredibly crass, doesn't it? 

I really don't care. I've never made it a secret that my Second Life is primarily sexual. We're all here for something, right? Mine is sex.

Maui is delivering, and that's more than I can say for any other adult sex place I've been to in Second Life, including my own. 

If you're able to make the cut, I highly recommend obtaining a membership. Avatars are expected to be very well put together. Mesh isn't required but it's highly encouraged and I certainly haven't seen anyone stomping around there with Flintstone feet. 
I'm sure I'm going to run into men and women who aren't to my tastes. That's just semantics, though. What I find attractive isn't necessarily everyone's cup of tea but I have to say that what I've seen so far in terms of quality is far above anything else I've ever seen in any adult playground. 

There's also a little something to satisfy everyone's needs and desires. I've not taken in the entire grounds yet, but I've seen everything from vanilla to BDSM to lesbian-specific to femdom to orgy-friendly... and whispers of an ultra-secret inner sanctum of debauchery and bliss.

Last night I ran into a very old friend from years and years ago. Anyone remember Olina? It was from back in those days. We got wet in the pool, then got wetter on one of the loungers. Maui seems to be a less pressure-filled version of Olina. 
Bae caught me drippin'... lol
At Olina, the membership was private and there were the interviews and all that, but basically they let in everyone. Most of the men there would never make the cut with me, and though they also gave lip service to the "no means no" thing, members were pressured pretty hard to fuck anyone who flopped their Xcite cock or pussy out. And that's why I eventually stopped going there. For my tastes, the pickings were slim, and the constant pressure was nothing but sleazy and annoying. 

I've not seen that yet at Maui, and I'm hoping I won't, mainly due to the quality of the avatars (and the humans behind them) that they are granting membership to. 

Oh, I'm certain I'm going to be expected to fuck any and all (or most) but in this case, I believe I'll be happy to do that.
One of the more unique things about Maui is that the owner, Bandor Tyrell, makes nearly all of the furniture, and it's good furniture, too. He owns a shop called Debauchery to sell his high quality adult furniture. I haven't met him yet (his lovely wife Dani interviewed me) but he seems to be a very active owner, unlike at some clubs where the owner rarely if ever sets foot on the sim. 

This is also one of the big pluses for Maui. It's nice to see an owner actually take an interest in the day to day activities... and participate from what I've heard.

So that's all the good things I've discovered about Maui so far... now for my own little quirky thing. And it is a very small thing. 
This is the way the membership thing works at Maui: When you join, you're given a HUD, or encouraged to pick one up at the landing point, and wear it all the time. A new member is a Maui guest until they've fucked one other person, and had that person recommend them. 

After that, you are a Novice member. To gain full membership, you must fuck and get recommendations from three other members. 

And I am all for this premise. I think it's brilliant. I think it's a great way to separate the wheat from the chaff. 

But herein lies the problem. Last night and this afternoon, I fucked two delicious gentleman. Orgasms were had by all. 

But neither were wearing the HUD, therefore no recommendation as to my prowess so even though I've... met the requirements for full membership, it's not recorded as such so I'm still walking around wearing a tag that says Novice. 
It's been quite a while since I've been a novice at anything when it comes to sex... lol. I've got a message into Bandor right now to ask him about that. I'm hoping there's a work-around for it since it seems to run counter to the requirements for full membership.

(Aha! I heard from Bandor, and met with him as well. There is a system on the desk in the library for giving recommendations without the HUD. The HUD is much better, though... I didn't ask either man to recommend me and it would be bizarre to request it after the fact. So... two more men for me to fuck. The horror... lol!)

Other than that one small thing, however, Maui is incredible. I am enjoying the hell out of finally finding the place where all the quality sexual people are. 

And I'm certainly looking forward to indulging in all it has to offer...

Wednesday, November 29, 2017

Hell Hath No Fury... a woman scorned, right?

You know what, though? I'm sick of it... the scorned women seeking vengeance for perceived ills in Second Life.

Why? Because they've fucked up my Second Life, that's why.
You see, I have a gentleman friend. More than a friend. A love, a lover. And I would love to wax poetic about him right here as I normally do when a man gets inside me.

But I can't.

Because I don't know what the ever-loving fuck is going on.
This man that I adore is... well, he's not built for monogamy.

Nor does he pretend to be. He's the most upfront man I've ever met when it comes to being honest about why he's in Second Life and how he has absolutely no plans to get tied down to one woman.

I get that. I accept that. And I admire his honesty.
After a bit of a rocky start (my fault, not his) things were going well. We were having fun. I'd gotten past that initial wave of jealousy I always feel when I start getting involved with a man and there are other women, friends or otherwise, in the picture.

There were things going on, fun things, new friends being made, new experiences. A lot of laughter, and the sex was off the mother-fucking charts.

But then some other women got mad at him. His rules and regulations are pretty rigid. He's been stung before, as we all have, and he's protective of himself. And those these women knew of his rules for himself, and for the woman involved with him, they, as women do, thought they were going to change him.
Their behavior drove him into hiding. A break from Second Life, me included in that. The pettiness, the bitchiness, the vindictiveness... it just got to be too much when he was just trying to do as we all do in Second Life; log in to have fun.

He got stuck in that place where we hate to log in, hate the thought of logging in because we know there is going to be drama and bullshit to deal with, so he stopped. Sort of.

I have no problem with people needing breaks from Second Life. I've done it myself, several times. Sometimes you just need to take a step back and breathe and get all your priorities back in order before you can stomach coming back and hopefully avoiding the pit of quicksand.
So that's what's going on now. He's in hiding. Oh, I know he's logging in, but he's hiding, I assume, from everyone. He's hiding from me. That bothers me.

As you know, I hate alts and all the bullshit that goes along with having alts and having to keep up with which of your Second Lives you're playing, and remember what lies you're telling and who you're telling them to, blah, blah, blah. I hate it and I avoid people that I know have multiple alts.

Hiding, to me, is a bit like being on an alt. He's hiding something, himself, from me. And right now I'm torn between being completely understanding that he's just taking alone time for himself, and being pissed because he's hiding from me.
He's not talking to me, not even on Skype. My messages go unanswered. And before you think my messages are nagging him about being offline and begging him to come back or bitching because he's hiding from me... I'm not.

They've been messages of support and understanding, but it's really hard for me to understand why he's hiding from me when I'm not the bitch who decided proper vengeance for him having a non-monogamous life was to destroy his property.

Yeah, I've heard awful stories before about what could happen when you give someone your edit rights, but I'd never actually seen the destruction a person can wreak.
What a cunt. And I don't use that word lightly. I am pro-woman, but jesus fucking christ, ladies... come the fuck on! Control your damn selves.

Because that's all you can do... you cannot control someone else's life or who they are.

And when you behave like Carrie Underwood in that damn song, it's a reflection on YOU, not him. It shows the world that he was wise to get the fuck away from you because you're fucking insane.

What it is about women that makes them think they have the right to demand a person act as they see fit? And then to throw temper tantrums, or worse, when they don't get their way?
Fucking walk away. If a man isn't the man you want him to be, bless and release. Walk away because you are not going to change him, and even if he gives in and tries, all that's going to come out of it is resentment towards you.

I get rage. I've felt it myself. I've been fucking mad as hell and wanted to burn the entire world down around me to get vengeance on whoever I feel has wronged me. But I didn't fucking do it. 

It's natural to get mad. But when you go beyond that and can't control yourself or your anger, it's inexcusable. Putting shit on your profile about what a miserable human being someone else is, submitting some shit to SL Secrets (fuck that site) and abusing the edit rights you have to tear apart someone's virtual (or RL) property is... jesus fucking christ, it's going too far. A targeted campaign of harassment is bullshit.

Be the bigger person. Walk away. Don't drive people out of Second Life because you didn't get your way.
Because in this instant, it's fucking affecting my Second Life.

Some will say that by my making this post, I'm doing the very same thing I'm accusing others of doing. That previous posts of mine, particularly the ones about the asshats who ghosted, are no better than what I'm bitching about other women doing. On Twitter, it's called "sub tweeting". I suppose this would be sub blogging? Yeah, I've done it. I'm not especially proud of it. But I've never been so psychotic that I ran anyone out of SL by harassing them, or destroying something of theirs.

Maybe I'm being a hypocrite. I'll accept that if it's the label you want to put over my head.

Collateral damage. That's what happens when you seek vengeance. Yeah, you might get a few punches in on the person you're angry with, but there is damage done beyond that.

I can't spend time with, or even talk to, the guy I want to be with because he's so jaded right now he's avoiding everyone. That hurts, and I don't lay that hurt at his feet. I lay it firmly at the feet of those twats that drove him nuts.

And I'm sure there are plenty of men who are guilty of it, too, but every encounter I've ever had with it has been women.

And I'm sick of it, ladies. What do you say? I'll do better if you will. Deal?

Because Second Life is supposed to be fun.

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


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...
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. 


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. 


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. ;-)

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