Wednesday, November 29, 2017

Hell Hath No Fury...

...like 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

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.

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