Monday, December 28, 2009

Scene Etiquette, Part Duh

I was listening to a podcast this weekend on the way to Ikea. I love that store. The podcast? Not so much.

Mollena Williams, Cunningminx and Graydancer were talking about something that he called "scene etiquette". I was really interested in what they'd had to say because that was a subject that holds some irritation for me personally. But as I listened, I realized what they were really talking about was the difficulty experienced by single bottoms when trying to find playdates at parties.

When I first started listening, I was torn between feeling sympathy for the difficulty that Mollena and Minx had finding appropriate playdates considering their "fame" and the feeling "so why should it be any harder or easier for them than the rest of us?"

Being a single submissive is not easy. I acknowledge that fact and because I have been one many times in my life, and was one recently for a long period, I know how hard it is to be friendly, be happy, walk into a room trying to balance being a person people would want to know better, with my natural inclination to fade into the background because it's too much fucking work to bother sometimes. I know trying to watch tops play with others left me feeling left out, while trying to decide if it were someone that I could trust to play in a way that I was comfortable with. And I know how hard it was for me as a submissive to "make the first move". Yeah...I wanted to be desired, feel wanted, and always be sure that my submissiveness was enough to overcome a top's rejection. The truth is, I'm not that good at pretending.

It's far easier being "someone's submissive" than it is to practice situational submission (aka bottoming). Especially when you don't really have a reason to bother.

I understood both Minx and Mollena's points: too many people make playdates and don't follow through; too many times they've had to be the instigator; too many times they just wanted to feel desired and wanted but were rejected for one reason or another.

But what I couldn't understand was the sense that they'd already had such a narrow range of options, had limited themselves to a "certain acceptable group" of tops, had not taken ANY opportunity to just get to know others that fell outside those choices, that they couldn't understand why they couldn't find playmates.

Mollena had said that "she doesn't play with just anybody who asks", yet bemoaned the lack of people asking. She doesn't want to be rejected by a top she's got her eye on. And she got it right when she said that tops don't either.

Minx bemoaned the fact that once people found out she'd been tied by Max, others didn't seem to want to tie her. Then she said that she'd be happy being sort of a practice dummy for knotwork. I giggled when I heard that. Mostly because I've BEEN the practice dummy...and it's not fun, it's not a scene, it's not even enough to keep my interest a lot of times. I said to myself, "yeah...go to some ropegeek at the next party and offer to just be a practice dummy instead of holding out for a scene....and then tell me that you're OK with that".

What struck me though was that both of these women are smart, witty, vivacious and beautiful. And they're having trouble finding acceptable playmates. This is no different from ANYONE in the scene that isn't "attached". Tops and bottoms both have this problem. Whether it comes from fear of rejection, being in awe of someone, or just normal feelings of wanting to be desired, and not having your feelings validated by others...I'm not sure. I really don't know what the answers are for each individual.

What I do know is that It Happens. The sad-to-say main reason is that the older a woman gets, the harder it is to find the connection to someone that will be in your acceptable range of desired qualities. There's competition for tops. We auto-select as we get older, finding out what we want from our partners, what we expect and need from a partner, and as a result, the pool of acceptable people diminishes. Being in the "limelight" of the scene the way Mollena and Minx are makes things even more difficult. Not only do they have a more limited range of options (I mean we ALL would like to have a scene with Graydancer once in our lives)...but there's just not that many tops at some of these events that are well-known enough by reputation alone that they'd likely feel comfortable with anyway. We remove unknown people automatically. Hell, even I wouldn't play with someone I didn't know or hadn't seen playing with someone else. Reputation, observation and conversation are key.

And while doing that, it did tend to leave me on the sidelines a lot. But what it also did was give me the time to decide that I far preferred to determine my own destiny rather than always sitting things out.

I was rejected. I felt unsexy, unwanted and undesired. I had dance cards filled and then left with gaping holes. I was ignored, pushed back, and seldom received an apology. I felt like I was somehow to blame for people not wanting to play with me. But I also watched those tops that interested me. And very often they were alone as well. It's like those conferences where everyone seeks out the speaker afterwards to talk to them. It's the ones that are hanging back who have the really interesting story. They're just afraid of coming off like a starfucker. Somebody has to break that dance of a bottom saying "I want to be asked to play", with a top saying "she's so beautiful, funny and wonderful, she'd never be interested in me in a million years". I learned that showing interest, got me asked for those playdates. A little enthusiasm and interest in a potential partner goes a long way. And for most submissives...well...we tend to learn early on how to make a man feel special. And I've rarely met a man who didn't feel that from someone who didn't want to least enough for a scene.

But what I really felt listening to the podcast is a universal truth among humans. We're not really just looking for random connections to people in a scene. We want the emotional, underlying relationship (whatever form that may be) to someone. I don't think that either Minx or Mollena were truly bemoaning the lack of acceptable choices in tops. What I think that they're searching for is elusive in many scenes. The connection to someone. To be able to emotionally relate to someone. And THOSE people are even harder to find than really good tops.

My final word on this subject is a piece of advice for single situational submissives who find themselves alone at parties, longing for "a scene". Instead of dismissing those shy, sweet tops, who may be a little intimidated at first by a sexy, funny, vivacious and experienced bottom, seek them out. Be friendly, open to conversation, smile, emit an aura of confidence, enthusiasm, and availability. Even if you don't get a scene out of it this time...the next time you just might.

Or he might even have a kinky brother :)

Monday, December 21, 2009 Forgetting

I’m not sure what happened. One minute I was watching television across the room from sir and the next, I was upstairs in bed alone, crying. I can’t even tell you what my thought process was except that I’d failed. I’d failed to keep his interest, I’d failed to find some way to feel comfortable with that feeling I’ve been “put away for now”. I know from personal experience that a lot of a D/s relationship is just a lot of the waiting, the boredom, and the feeling that I am at the disposal of his whim, not the other way around. I just didn’t stop to think that it would be this hard. Maybe that’s the difference with having a boyfriend who is your sir. Being comfortable finding yourself put away for a while by your sir, with trying to fit in those extra few hours with your boyfriend before going home again. It always seems like on one hand, I shouldn’t be upset with being by myself, just watching him to see if he needs me; while on the other just wanting those extra few minutes with him to get me through until next time.

This was always one of the things that I had the hardest time dealing with. I think it happens because I’m an interactive person, and not a piece of furniture. And because, well frankly...I spent a lot of years being ignored by a spouse that didn’t care, children who’d rather I wasn’t making their lives miserable, and one relationship where I was always second. I've thought a lot about that relationship recently....mostly about how much I prefer the one I have now. But I got used to being alone in my own head. I got used to zoning out. I got used to doing what I wanted when I wanted to do it. When I get in that headspace, my mood becomes more of a “I don’t give a fuck” than “let’s ask permission to not give a fuck”. And that’s where I am right now. I just don't know how to remember.

I think that some of this has to do with the fact that I really am just a visitor in his life. Every weekend, I sort of move into his space, intrude in his life, and I end up wandering around a strange place where I have nothing to keep me occupied, nothing to stop my brain from thinking of all those times when I was required to be physically present, but nobody ever requiring my mind to even be in the same time zone. I can cook for him, I can clean for him, and I can pay attention to him, but at the end of the day, even with his smile of appreciation, do I really care about any of it? My body is performing the actions that he requires, but I’m not really there. I’m invisible again. And I find that I really don’t like that feeling this time. I used to take pride in being invisible. Now, it’s the last thing I want to be.

And I think that some of this also comes from my fucking inability not to anticipate. I don’t know when that happened. I used to take each day that we spent together as if it were the only one I’d have for a month. Now, I anticipate spending time with him and I’m always a little disappointed when the reality doesn’t quite match what bug has gotten into my brain. I really need to stop creating a bubble of “how cool would it be” in my head...and just remember to create a “whatever happens, happens” bubble. I’ve got to stop myself from wishing.

He’d mentioned something about rope. He’d wanted to try to figure out a picture that I’d sent to him. It’s been a long time since we did any rope together in his house. I actually can’t even remember the last time we broke out the rope bag for either play or practice. I’m starting to feel like me and him and rope is just a disappointment. What started out as a really wonderful dance, has turned into one that I’d just prefer to sit out. Not really. I don’t want to sit out. But it’s like I don’t really have a choice. I think that it’s just that I feel like he doesn’t want to dance with me anymore. Another failure. It sucks, but what are you gonna do? Wish for things that can’t happen? Or deal with things the way they are?

And truth be told there were some other things that obviously had bothered me more than I’d let on. I’m working on dealing with those feelings. It’s not jealousy's more like I’ve seen how this goes. Patterns that repeat and patterns that I’d forgotten how hard they were for me to get through. I’ll have to admit, it’s far easier to deal with some of those things when I’m making a conscious decision to deal with’s a lot harder to deal with them when I’m filled in after-the-fact. Another wall that I’d forgotten was so hard to climb.

So today, I’ve given up on trying to make sense of the weekend. There were just too many reminders of things that I’d rather not think about at this particular time of year. This week is hard enough already without having to deal with all of that. I just hope that I’m not a failure at forgetting this weekend. That’d be one that I’d really like to not remember.

Thursday, December 17, 2009


Tattoos are a recent thing for me. Well, recent as in the last few years. I’d wanted a tattoo almost my whole life. It appealed to the artist hiding in me to have something that I could carry with me everywhere.

I put off getting one mostly because of the other people in my life. They didn’t like tattoos. But when my children starting sporting what seemed to be a new one every other month, I’d start thinking again about how much I’d really wanted one. My chance finally happened about three years ago.

I was on a vacation sans husband and kids, and was with my sister in Florida when she’d tweaked me about my continuously putting off getting a tattoo. She’d said that it wasn’t because other people didn’t like them...but that I was “afraid of the pain”....and that I "was a wussy". Since I’m actually quite afraid of needles, I'm sure she thought she’d found something that I wouldn’t ever do.

Once I’d gotten over laughing at the thought of how I could explain to her about my fascination with pain, I thought of something that appealed to BOTH my masochist and well as the little inner sadist that sometimes lurks. I said that if she wanted me to get a tattoo so much, then I’d be willing. And the bet was that if I cried or cringed during it, I’d pay for it. Otherwise, it was on her dime.

We found a tattoo shop in Tampa that she’d heard about. We went in, and I chose a tattoo that would mean something to me forever. I chose a symbol which represented the name of someone very special to me. Since she’ll always be the most special, I know I wouldn’t change my mind and regret the choice. We discussed colors, placement and size and the guy began the tattoo.....and I found myself in a remarkably relaxed space in a matter of minutes.

About an hour later, I was the proud owner of my first tattoo.

Afterwards, while my sister was paying the bill, she just looked at me and said “I’ve never seen anyone who almost fell asleep while being looked like you were almost enjoying it!”. I didn’t know what to say. I had enjoyed it. So much so, that I knew if I wasn’t careful, I’d willingly get every inch of my body tattooed given the chance. And that would look freaky. It is much too addicting.

But what I find most interesting was the state of my mind during it. It was painful in spots....and it felt a lot like playing with pain....the willingness and anticipation of the pain created a juxtaposition in my brain. That “fight or flight” reaction. The problem is that my mind says stay....while my body says “get the fuck outta Dodge”. When they become synched....that’s when I’m able to fly.

I’ve wanted another tattoo for three years, but I've waited. In much the same way as I waited before meeting daddy. The former is too addicting, the latter was because I'd wanted to make sure that I wasn't behaving as an addict searching for my next fix of D/s.

You see, while I could just get them because they’re pretty, or I like the feeling, or they’re cool, since I do have to live with them (and around other people who still think tattoos are low-class) for a lifetime, I decided that I’d ONLY get inked when there was something I was sure about. I used that precious little girl’s flower on my shoulder as the test of that. I’d only get a tattoo that would say something I’d never regret.

I’ve been toying with the idea of getting a tattoo over the past several months. At first, I didn’t know what I’d want. I toyed with the idea of a kitty, a rainbow, and others. But none of those felt right and didn’t meet the requirement of “meaning something” to me. So I’d waited.

When I finally decided on what I’d like tattooed, I waited some more. Although I tend to rush into things, this was one time that I’d decided early on to go slowly with. Step by step, little by little. Making sure, testing myself (ok, and truth be told, him too), learning about each other, and mostly just accepting that there is someone out there who loves me exactly as I am, who expects nothing from me except to be who I am, and who accepts my love exactly as I give it.

And that's why I'm finally getting a tattoo again this weekend. I'm finally sure that despite whatever happens down the road, I will never regret getting it....and never regret who it will remind me of.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Doesn't Hold a Candle to It

Friday night was the first night of Hanukkah for 2009. It also happened to be the start of my weekend with Daddy.

Ordinarily I don’t spend Friday nights with Daddy. It’s his time with the boy and although I like spending time with both of them, I don’t want to get into a habit of coming between their time together. It’s important to me that their habits continue as it always had before I came into the picture. Stability is important for the both of them.

But this Friday was different. Daddy and I hadn’t seen each other during the week because of the weather, and because I wasn’t feeling well. And he wanted me there.

When I walked through the door, I was a bit earlier than they’d expected. Both of them came around the corner to the door with huge smiles on their faces. They were both happy to see me and both seemed pretty excited that I was there. It was a pretty cool feeling walking into the house and feeling that.

We ate dinner after Daddy and the boy did their Friday night candles, and with an extra candle because it was Hanukkah. There was some unexpected pyrotechnics with the menorah candle and a placemat, but other than a little charring, things worked out ok. While we were eating, the boy and Daddy told me about Hanukkah....several versions of it. That’s something that’s pretty typical. Whenever Daddy tells a story...I always wait for the “on the other hand” part that I know will be coming. Maybe that’s part of why things drive him crazy a lot of times. Historical and cultural shades of grey...creating a sort of chaos in its own way. There never seems to be much in the way of black and white. And maybe that’s why I’m always so amused by it.

After the boy received his present, and after he’d ate the candy coins I brought for him, Daddy and I sat for a while and relaxed. We talked for a while and then he told me he had a surprise for me. I couldn’t imagine what it would be. He told me to go grab my computer and then he proceeded to show me that he’d given me my own piece of the web. He’d grabbed the domain for nakedconfusion. I was tickled that he’d thought of that, I never would have in a million years. But that’s the wonderful thing about Daddy. He’s able to find just the right thing to make me smile. And geeklove always does it!

After we’d gone to bed, talking and cuddling (we both wear pajamas when the boy is home), I finally had the best night’s sleep I’d had all week. Even with the stuffy nose and coughing. Sometime during the night, the boy had crawled into bed next to Daddy. He told me in the morning that although the bed got pretty crowded with the three of us there, he’d just lain awake for a while smiling at the thought of both of the people he loves snuggling with him. I’ve told him that we do it because he’s so warm to sleep next to. But if you really want to know, I think it’s because both of us are able to relax curled next to Daddy. We both know that we’re safe from the monsters in our heads, we both know that he’s got us wrapped in his love...and we both know that there’s no place else on earth that we’d rather be at that moment.

Or perhaps, crowding Daddy in his bed is just our way of saying that we love him more than anyone else...and that we know he loves us too. Nobody else would let us warm our cold feet on his legs or steal his covers and pillow so that we could sleep. And nobody else makes us feel as special and loved as Daddy.

As lovely as my first Hanukkah was, it occurs to me that that most lovely thing about that night was the feeling that I'd become part of them. So much so--that the boy and I could be hogging the bed from Daddy and all he does is smile at the thought. All the Hanukkah candles in the world don’t hold a candle to the feeling we get snuggled next to Daddy’s love on a cold winter’s night.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

My ABC's of a Bratty RopeBottom

I wanted to write a timely post, but since I'm pretty happy these days (well except for another helacious cold I received after snogging a beautiful switch at the Bound in Boston last weekend), and since I'm in a pretty vixenish kind of mood..I thought it would be the perfect time to alphabetize my spice rack. [private joke between me and daddy...but if you'd like to see what happened, you can read it here]

So here's my ABC's of being a bratty ropebottom. Most of these things have happened to me at one time or another. I'm working on the rest of them for the New Year :)

Always pay attention to the smallest things. Sometimes they are the ones with the most ouchiest impact.

Behave as if Daddy were always listening and watching. Sorta like that time between Thanksgiving and Christmas when you were a kid. He IS making notes.

Certainly remember to curtsy before calling Daddy an evil mean bastard...and don't forget to add "Sir".

Don't ever call Daddy an evil mean bastard when you know he's listening.

Even if you think he's not listening, calling him an evil mean bastard will likely show you just how ouchy those small things can be.

Forget what you've been taught at your own peril. If he taught you how to make his martini with gin, never ever make it with vodka unless you're looking for that evil mean bastard to come out and play.

Good little ropesluts never try to escape without it at least making it look difficult, even if you can.

Having an itch is something that you should always keep to yourself.

Itchy noses can however be fixed by snuggles, nuzzles, and pretending to faint.

Jumping up and down in rope when you have to pee isn't likely to get you to the bathroom. Ropedaddys will just remind you that you should have thought of that much sooner.

Kissing is fun...but never use the "fish kiss" the "butterfly kiss" or the "kiss my ass phrase" unless you know for sure he's not listening.

Loving his rope is not the same as loving him. However, loving him while he's practicing the same knot for the hundredth time is the best test of that love.

Maybe telling Daddy that his ouchy toys were given away to deprived ropesluts/painsluts for Christmas isn't the best way to stop his aneurysm from happening.

Nobody likes a brat all the time. However, if Daddy chooses to ignore what you're doing, then you're probably OK...for now.

Opening the toybag and asking "what's this one used for" isn't a good idea unless you know EXACTLY what it's used for.

Poking him when he's asleep to tell him that you need a spider killed makes him feel like a super hero sthpider sthlayer. Poking him while he's asleep just because you like to see him hit the ceiling isn't such a good idea.

Quiet time for Daddy does not mean that it's ok to crawl under his desk and give him a blow job. Or maybe it does. That one's daddy specific.

Running away saying "I bet you can't catch me" isn't perhaps the best choice when he brings out the paddle. You eventually HAVE to come back.

Speaking of paddles...the trick to that is to make sure that the rope covers enough of whatever body part will be paddled so that he's gotta work for it. I that you can enjoy the rope AND the paddle.

Toilet seats should never be super glued in the morning.

Using his rope to hold up your pants, tie your shoelaces, or create a plant hanger is probably not a good idea.

Very often Daddy's will bring out the rope to tease you with it. The way around this is to pretend that there's nothing you'd like LESS at the moment. can backfire if he's really doing it for use this one judiciously.

When in doubt about what you should do, looking dumb and telling him that he's a dork for not being specific enough will get the paddle and no rope. If he asks for "that thing over there" and there's fifty things there...bring him all of them as a safe bet.

Xylophones make really cool noises. However..using Daddy's tummy as one might not be so good if he's ticklish.

Yelling to Daddy from another room that "hey..did you know that your iPhone makes really cool noises if you pour something on it" will for sure give him that aneurysm that I talked about earlier.

Zealous enthusiasm, while fun, sometimes needs to be tempered with simply being enthusiastic because you're his.

I love you Daddy. Thanks for a wonderful year of laughter, learning, and love.

Sunday, December 6, 2009

Energy and Etiquette.

We went to the Bound in Boston after party held at a local private facility. We don't have public dungeons in Boston. It's the puritanical antecedents (along with one highly publicized case) that cause some difficulties.

It had been a long day for Daddy and I and we were looking forward to relaxing. There was plenty of rope, lots of toys, and lots of people. We just wanted to reconnect and get some energy going.

We'd started to play in an area that perhaps wasn't the wisest choice. It wasn't bad, but people seemed to have no problems stepping over us while we were doing our thing. One person walked over my head and stepped on my ear. That pissed Sir off and we had to move. It was too dangerous for me to remain where I was. We stopped to move the piece of carpeting that we were on several feet in another direction so that we'd be more out of the way of the traffic flow.

We'd got resettled and then we had someone start a flogging about 6 inches from daddy's head. When he caught me looking away from him, he snapped at me and said "I'm over here". I just looked at him, and instead of tweaking out at his tone, I just told him that he was about to get hit in the head with the flogger. OK, I hid the giggle when I told him, but both he and I were getting a little bit irked at the people who just seemed to have no fucking clue about what was going on around them. Sir said something to the idiot that was doing it, but the guy was just so fucking oblivious that he didn't even bother to look behind him before he'd started.

We started again and I was having a wonderful time. Crops have turned into something of a favorite of mine and between that and the remote-controlled vibe that Sir had attached to me...I was ready for some definite connection!

But after just a little while, daddy stopped. He got me up and through my haze I thought I'd done something wrong. I just looked at him and asked "what's up?". He said things were getting too dangerous to continue. People were walking through the scene, walking around my head, and weren't paying attention. He didn't want his attention divided between trying to hurt me and my getting hurt.

It left me in a weird point though. Neither high enough to fly, nor low enough to come back easily. I was in sort of a limbo-land. My body kept yelling for more, but my brain kept telling it to shut up already. Instead, we sat and watched some other scenes.

I may not process things completely while I'm flying, but that night I noticed a lot of things. We might not have been able to finish our scene, but there were still a lot of scenes happening.

I watched a flogging scene happening several feet away from us. From my vantage point, I could see the tops' face. He looked bored. So did his bottom. Now whether or not either participant was truly bored, I've no idea. But it seemed as if it was just this guy showing off his flogging technique instead of connecting with his bottom. He never once touched her with anything other than the flogger. And she never moved or made a sound. He never spoke to her, never checked in with her, and it ended not with a bang, but with him putting away his flogger and walking away.

And speaking of technique...another scene that I watched with anticipation was a whip scene. A lovely young woman (in great heels) was preparing to whip her bottom. They'd gotten set up, the woman started the whip...slowly at first. Since whips are also another favorite of mine, I watched this one with bated breath. I was curious about how she was connecting with her bottom. She kissed him with the whip several times, walked up to him and checked in...caressed his back...whispered in his ear, moved back and started again. About that time, some bystander had come up to her and stopped her. He started making arm motions, showing her a stance...and I thought, WTF! Dude! NOW is not the time to be comparing technique! WTF is the MATTER with you? And I felt sorry for the bottom. He turned around to look at why the whip wasn't being thrown anymore and you could see the look of disappointment on his face. It was heartbreaking. I know. I'd already felt the same thing about an 1/2 hour earlier.

I watched a suspension scene. Three lovely women were going to be suspended by a couple of really decent riggers. I've seen them rig before and watched what they were going to do. It ended up as a great scene, but my only thought was that it took nearly an hour to rig those three women. I'd have been bored out of my skull. Maybe it was easier because the women were all playing off each other...teasing and talking. I don't know. It was a fascinating ending...inverted suspension always is. But I couldn't watch for an hour without becoming bored. I couldn't imagine what it would have felt like to be doing it.

I also noticed that there were various other scenes. Punching, self-suspension, needles, But by that point I'd given up. My own ruined scene, the three scenes I described above, all combined to just wear me out. Interesting though they may have been, they all seemed to lack one very important thing that I always look for in a memorable scene. The connection between people. And I think a lot of that was because of the bystanders.

I know it's difficult for people to remember that scene space has different rules. And public party spaces have added stresses on scene participants. Too many people were walking though scenes, offering "advice" in an ongoing scene, talking to scene participants, and basically looking as if they were the ONLY people in the space. They were oblivious to everyone and anything going on. It became dangerous for daddy and I to continue for just that reason. Many people don't bother to play at all anymore for that reason. And that's a damned shame. Because the people that play provide fodder for future scenes, provide the energy for a party to really get going, and provide a thrill for those watching. A friend of mine mentioned this fact. He was surprised at how many people seemed to just be showing off their toys rather than connecting with them.

I'm tired of playing in public scene spaces and having to discuss the lack of scene etiquette after the fact. This is not rocket science. It's basic manners. You wouldn't come into a dinner party and start telling your host how to serve the meal. You wouldn't walk inbetween a mother hugging her child because it was the shortest route. And you wouldn't pretend that you're the only person on earth that counts.

Or maybe, you would. If that's the case then do the rest of the players a favor and stick to the couches in your own home. We like to play in public. We just don't like the public to come up on the stage as if they're part of the play.

End Rant.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Photography and Fetlife

As you might guess, I frequently search out things on Fetlife that interest me. One of the subjects that has become something of a minor crusade for me personally, is the subject of photographs. I don't have a problem posting pictures of myself, as long as they're not of me in sexual or s/m situations. Rope is fine, having fun is fine, but I don't want photos of me posted on Fetlife engaging in anything that would tweak my grandmother.

Many people have similar rules regarding photos of themselves. Some are stricter than mine, and some are a lot more open about their kinks. I wish we all could be, but that's a fantasy I've had for nearly 20 years, and I really don't see it changing all that much. The only thing that has changed, is the advent of cell phone cameras and the internet. And because of that, things are getting a little crazy.

Many discussions about privacy have been started on Fetlife. Some are better than others. But one in particular got my attention because of the eloquence of his response. With his permission, I've reposted his reply to this thread below. I want to thank Jim, known as bartleby on Fetlife for his kindness in allowing me to quote his words here.

Before you take pictures of others, before you post pictures of others, think about the discretion that some of us are forced to live with and ask yourself if putting up that picture is worth ruining someone's life over.

I’m Jim, and I’m kinky, too.

But you don’t see my picture here, or anywhere on Fetlife with my consent, because it might impact me professionally.

One of my first friends in the scene was a school teacher, and photos of some of her antics on the internet would have definitely been a cause for concern to her; since she was pretty sure that she would be jobless should they come to the wrong person’s attention. And you never want to be in the position of hoping that a picture of you on the internet doesn’t come to the wrong person’s attention.

I have been reading this thread, and wondering whether to come in on it. It is tempting to stay away because I was recently involved in a situation where I mistakenly thought that a photo of me had been posted. And that turned fairly ugly.

However, the idea that someone can take a photo of someone else in a private space, and then post it without their consent pretty much hits ten on an ugliness scale of nine. This is true whatever the party rules are about photography.

My friend the schoolteacher would have known exactly what hit her if the wrong photo showed up in the wrong place. As would a parent who suddenly became a non custodial parent.

However, for many it would not be so obvious. A client or promotion not landed. Or people who we need for all sorts of reasons, or people who we care for, who suddenly come into information that they not only can’t handle, but can’t even bring themselves to talk about with us.

When I came into the kink world, there were a lot of things that made me deeply uncomfortable. Over time I was able to make peace with a lot of that. Much of the reason for that is that I came to know and respect people who indulged in those things. And while I may never tread those specific paths, I can accept them as valid for others.

People who have not had that opportunity can not be expected to react the same way. We can debate whether they are good or bad people, or whether they “should” be more enlightened.

But what is not debatable is that there can be very real consequences to allowing your personal life to become public. Some of us know this now. Some others will find this out later. And some others yet will suffer these consequences and never know the reason why.

And if anyone thinks that a photograph without a proper name or other identifying information will just fade into obscurity, try the following experiment. And then roll the numbers around in your head for a while.

Google the words Rodolfo Corrales North Carolina. (here's the article)

You will find an Associated Press story about a man by the name of Rodolfo Corrales, who was arrested for murder by the FBI on June 24. Pertinent to this discussion is that the FBI had a tip that he was living in North Carolina under an assumed name. According to the story they took a 1991 photo of him to the North Carolina Division of Motor Vehicles, and compared it to the pictures on file.

Out of 30 million pictures, the computer gave them possible hits in the dozens. And they found him. Easily.

And Mr. Corrales provided food for thought for the rest of us.

The numbers again: 18 year old photo. 30 million possibilities, narrowed down to dozens of likely people within seconds.

Facial recognition software is apparently pretty impressive these days. And we can count on it improving. Which is all the more reason that I don’t want my picture taken under some circumstances.

And I don’t think that I should have to abstain from going to parties where I can mingle with my friends and enjoy myself because of that.

At any party I go to there will be people I know and like. There will be people who are just acquaintances. There will people I don’t know. And there may even be people I don’t like.

I think that all of these people, connected however fragilely, should be able to share one common assumption. And that is that we do not intend to cause one another harm.

To post a picture of someone without their consent is to harm them. To even take someone’s picture without them explicitly consenting is also to harm them, since they have no control of that image, and can never be sure that it won’t come back to haunt them. Whether it does or not, that still takes its toll on their peace of mind.

This is obviously no longer universally believed. But it might just be a matter of common decency to rein in the desire for a shot you want, when it might cost another children, job security, or family harmony.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.

Monday, November 30, 2009

Ghosts of Christmas Presents

Christmas is coming up soon. And between now and then, I've got some things to think about. Daddy asked me the other day what I'd like for Christmas. I thought it was sweet that he asked. Christmas isn't his holiday.

I really hadn't expected gifts of any sort this year so I hadn't really thought about it much. I've usually taken more pleasure in watching others open the gifts I bought for them. I have fun choosing things that I know they'll like, things they've mentioned in passing when they thought I wasn't paying attention. I have fun wrapping and keeping a little secret to myself for a few weeks.

I think my favorite part of Christmas was always my stocking. I loved waking up on Christmas morning, drinking my coffee sitting in the light of the tree, and finding things that didn't cost very much, but were always useful. Nailpolish, socks, a pair of earrings, my favorite candy, some new pens or markers or some hair combs or barrettes. Just the kind of stuff that I use all year long and always seem to run short of or lose somehow. It was always fun opening a pez or chomping down on a pack of bubble gum. Yeah, I know. Lame.

But when Daddy mentioned it to me, it started me thinking about what I'd really like. Over the past couple of days, I'd remembered him joking about my needing a microwave. But that's kind of ridiculous just for cooking popcorn. I've lived without one for a while and I can truly say that I don't miss it.

I'd thought about shoes (of course) and realized that I'm very picky when it comes to my heels. Jewelry? I've got more than I could wear in a year now and I hardly ever wear more than a few different favorite pieces as it is. Hobby stuff? I've got so many paints, brushes, and assorted hobby items that it's getting difficult to find places to store them. I don't "collect" things anymore. I don't have time to read much, and I was fast running out of ideas.

So I sat down and made a list. It's my "fantasy" list for things I'd really love to have in my life. It started off with the usual: a ferrari, a trip to London, my own shoe store. And after I'd gone down that road, I really started to think about what I'd like this year.

I'd like more time to be with those I love (especially daddy). I'd like to be able to take away some of his worries so that we can have time together free from stress. I'd like to be able to sleep when he's not with me. I'd like to feel something other than sad. I'd like to make everyone that I know have one day where everything works exactly perfect. Just so that they can see how that feels.

Unfortunately, most of those are also on the "fantasy" list.

And then I really thought about what would make me happiest this year. It's something that I really hadn't thought about in a while. But it's also something that I think will also remain on the fantasy list for a while. We've got some talking to do before that becomes a reality.

In any case, the thing that makes me happiest is Daddy. That's all I want for Christmas this year. So I think actually, I've already received my present. And that's more than I'd ever fantasized about last year.

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Words Are Like Knives

I can't sleep.

I know that this is a temporary situation and I'll eventually be forced into something that resembles sleep, but I don't know when that will happen. My brain is in overdrive at the moment and the road is winding along at high speed.

I went to a party tonight. Daddy didn't take me because he had plans with the boy. I really shouldn't go to parties alone anymore. Everyone just asks the same question all the time. And hearing "where's daddy tonight, you're here alone?" just makes me miss him even more.

We had a few good days together. There were some tough things to get through- the ornament thing with the ex was definitely made much easier because Daddy was here to hold me afterwards. And I'm sure that his meeting the family wasn't easy for him. But one of the things that happened touched on an area that I'm singularly not particularly fond of. OK, I really can't handle it. It's never worked with me, and about the nicest thing I can say about it now is that I no longer punch someone who does it to me. I can't imagine punching Daddy in the nose. The thing that can get me worked up so much so that it's a hard limit for me.

Verbal humiliation.

Words are very important in our relationship. One of the things that intrigued me first about Daddy (besides his ass and smelling nice) was that he talked with me. And we've spent 11 months talking with each other....and many times his words alone bring me out of the doldrums or turn me into a quivering bowl of goo. We love talking. He loves words and I love hearing him.

It seems odd to me sometimes that as a kinky woman, I have no problem with him calling me his slut, bitch or whore. Hell, very often when he calls me one of those things, I'm all too happy to live up to his expectations. But there are words that strike some hidden feeling of worthlessness. Of not being good enough. Of having to listen to the person you love tell you exactly what he really thinks of you. In. Every. Horrific. Detail.

We were talking about rope and the fact that he'd wanted to try something with the rope. I made a joke and asked "with me?". And he used a word that brought back a memory and set off a chain reaction. And when it did, I tried something new for me. I tried to take a moment, gather my thoughts, and tell Daddy that I had a problem. Apparently, trying to tell him I was trying to "parse being that word", didn't quite make the impression I was hoping for.

He of course didn't mean that I was that. We were joking and playing around after all. And there was no way for either of us to know that particular word cut to my heart. It was just a word. Right?

We talked for a while about it, and I told him that I was being unfair and I knew it. I listen to him, his words mean everything to me, and because I'm his, how he speaks to me leaves a lasting impression. I hold him to a high standard with words because when he speaks, I take my cues from that. I fell in love with him through words and as unfair as it is, when called something unexpected, that is one time that my heart goes from A to Z in a beat.

I asked him if anyone had every called him names and if so, how did it make him feel. I also explained that this one was like the difference between calling him a "silly daddy" and calling him an "idiot". One is said with love and meant to be a way of saying that he made me giggle....the other is never said with anything other than with loathing. No matter if it's said with a smile. It's the word that has the meaning and the word alone says a lot.

He finally explained that with us, words sometimes are like knife play. Dangerous. Prone to little accidents. When using the edge, things are able to be kept under control. It's the tips that cause the damage if you're not careful. And he asked if I trusted him enough to know that he'd never purposefully hurt me, and that any little mistakes were just that. And that he'd always be there to put the bandaids on. But that if I wanted to play with knives, sometimes the tips are gonna slip. If I wanted to hold him to a high standard, I'd have to be willing to allow the slips once in a while and forgive him the mistake. He's there to fix things up....but I have to be able to tell him that I've been stung.

Words can be wonderful things or they can cut someone into pieces. The difference is in knowing when the cut is a bad one needing stitches or when it's just a little nick because I laughed. With Daddy, I have to remember that it's always the latter.

Saturday, November 28, 2009

Ghosts of Christmas Past

Yesterday was one of those no good, very bad days.

I got a call from the ex while I was at lunch with daddy. The ex said that he was putting up the Christmas tree and other assorted decorations and did I want to come by and get anything? I'd been dreading this day for nearly a year and now that the time had come to divide twenty years of family memories, I couldn't face doing it.

I ended up going after daddy said that it would make me feel better to just get it done. It didn't make me feel better exactly, and now I'm faced with several boxes of those memories and the even larger task of trying to come up with a new set of traditions for me and the cat.

It's too quiet in the house and since I've got really no reason to make gingerbread or sugar cookies short of expanding my own waistline, I'm not really in the mood to do either of those. The tree isn't even worth really putting up. I took the smallest one because I thought that would be easiest to store, but I'm regretting that I didn't take one of the larger ones which would let me at least have a project to do for the next few hours. This one looks too much like a Charley Brown tree which is depressing.

I'm glad daddy was here when I'd brought all the ornaments back. He thought it was funny how much I'd brought in, while I thought it was funny how much I'd left behind. We'd counted all the ornaments several years ago after my son's girlfriend made a comment about the tree sagging under the weight of them (and before we'd lost a few when the cat decided that some of the birds looked all too real). There were over 7,000 pieces of my Christmas memories on those trees. I think I took about 200 of them home with me yesterday.

But I don't know if my ennui right now comes from not having the other 6,800, or from looking at the 200 I have and wondering what the hell I'm supposed to do now?

Daddy said that maybe I needed to choose to be happy. That's funny considering everything. But he's right I suppose. For every ending, there's another beginning. I just need to find a beginning for myself that feels right.

And damn...sugar cookies and gingerbread DO taste good for breakfast :)

Friday, November 27, 2009

World, Meet Universe

Thanksgiving brought both pieces of my world together in one place for the first time. The worlds didn't exactly collide, they just sort of bounced off each other as a first pass.

I brought daddy home for Thanksgiving this year. He met my kids and my parents...along with other assorted relatives and friends. He and I were both nervous as hell. My nervousness stemmed from how my kids would react to someone not their father in my life; while his stemmed from just meeting everyone for the first time. I know that was unfair of me to do that, but I figured the more people around, the less likely it would be that he'd have to be the center of their attention. This is one time that I thought that he'd be quite alright without that.

The day went pretty well. Nobody was too tweaked. They seem to have liked him. I didn't receive any phone calls. And the highest praise came from my son, who said that daddy was "cool". (because he watches StarGate)

I smiled and thought "yeah, I think he's cool, too".

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Another Day in Dropsville

There was a conversation that happened on twitter (I refuse to capitalize this until they give me back the ability to block people) yesterday. It was about dom/sub drop. A friend thought that one way to help get through a drop was to have some sort of ritual--a parting ritual-- a phrase or something to take away so that the connection can be maintained and hopefully make the drop less worse (notice I did not say "better"). I mentioned collar rituals as a starting point for ideas. Mr. Google has tons of those around....and maybe they work for some people.

Daddy said something in the tweetstream that made me smile. He said that we have our own ritual which includes lingering over parting and that we both feel like crap until Wednesday. But we do each now have something of the others' to remind us. But having those things doesn't make the drop any easier.

I've had relationships where Mondays weren't like this. They came and went without notice, and without missing anyone. I cared about the people I was involved with, but I really didn't think too much about a drop and I for sure don't remember feeling emotionally drained and yet oddly peaceful. Maybe though, that's just an unanticipated benefit or side effect of bottoming, rather than submitting.

I do know that this happens, heck...we both do by now. We can plan, prepare, and help each other through it, but it's not just a dom/sub drop. If it were just that, it'd be easier. No, I don't think that it's just a typical drop. We get the same feeling whether or not we've done any kinky activity during the weekend.

What it is, is just purely missing someone who means so much to you. Missing the companionship, the quiet comfort we give to each other, the laughter shared by two people over a game of cribbage, the interesting discussion over a meal being shared with someone, and the peaceful sleep we both find now when we're with each other. No, I think what we miss when we're not together in the same place, even if we're not doing anything with each other, is simply not being alone.

We don't drop from losing the connection when we leave each other and we don't need symbols or rituals to try to make it easier. It never will be. We drop because the things we are together are just missed too much when we're apart. We drop because we've gotten used to weekends being together as a couple and to go through the week without those things is sometimes unbearable. We don't lose the connection on Sunday nights. We drop because the connection is always there.

It's just that we can't do a damned thing about it until Wednesday.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Musings on Decisions and Regrets

I've been reading over some of my blog posts from the past few months....the ones I don't publish. Yeah. There are some of those. Things too personal to tell anyone about. But as I read over those, one thing is becoming clear. I've broken a couple of my own rules about relationships.

I'm not truly upset that I've done that, because even I know that things won't always be perfect. No, what upsets me I think is that I don't know if I'm going to live to regret the decisions I'm making right now.

Regret is a funny thing. You never regret the good things that happen. Unless it's winning the lottery and buying that bridge in London. It's not the winning the lottery they regret's the result of a poor choice of how the money was spent.

Every decision we make brings some sort of regret. Don't believe me? Try this:

You wake up in the morning fifteen minutes before your alarm goes off. Are you happy that you're up early or do you wish for that fifteen minutes of snooze time back?

You decide what to wear for the day after listening to the weather report and when you get to the office, you find out the heat is broken and it's about 100 degrees in your office. Do you wish you hadn't worn that sweater?

You drive home from work and although you've got several different ways to go, you decide that you'll take the road that you normally do, but there's a traffic backup that will last for hours. Do you wish you'd taken a different path?

Regrets are like that. You make what you think is a good choice, a good decision, and something outside of your control makes the result something that causes you to then wish that you'd done it differently. If you'd only known the could have changed the outcome right?

But there's also opposing influences at work that you won't ever know about.

Let's take my examples again. You woke up fifteen minutes early and regret that you lost that snooze time. But because you woke up early, you had time to spend fifteen extra minutes talking to a friend. And later that day, your friend is in an accident and doesn't survive. Do you still regret that fifteen minutes? Or does it become something that you're now glad you had?

You decide what to wear and it turns out to be wrong for the inside temperature. But despite the heat, you look wonderful in that sweater, you feel good wearing it, and everyone at work wants the same sweater. You feel wonderful inside, while maybe sweating your ass off on the outside...but the decision you made doesn't make one better than the other....just that not both of them worked out perfectly.

You choose a usual path to drive home and you run into traffic. You're stuck for an hour or more and when you're finally free you realize that you just spent an hour listening to that podcast you'd been putting off, you've talked to your mother on the phone and have made her happy for this month, or even yet...if you'd have taken the OTHER'd have gotten two flat tires due to the roofing truck that was in front of you.

It's not the "bad" decisions we's the results of all those "good" decisions that just seem bad. We'll never know if the decision we didn't make would have made the results better or worse. And we'll never know if what we wish for as a "better" result, is actually the worst one of all.

Or look at it another way.....sometimes the best we can hope for is unanswered prayers.

Sunday, November 22, 2009

10 (+2) Things I Wish Somebody Told Me About Submission

I've been thinking a lot about something that Daddy mentioned to me a few times. He asked me what I'd tell a new submissive if one came to me for advice. I thought about that and wondered if I had anything that would make sense. I also wondered if my advice is just something that worked for me and maybe submissives need to learn from their own mistakes. I haven't figured that one out.

But since I'm a bossy, chatty and opinionated woman, here's 10 things that I would tell someone exploring their submissive desires for the first time.

My advice for new submissives:

1. Nobody is submissive all the time- including you. If you were submissive all the time, imagine how hard it would be to even walk out the door in the morning, deal with a job, kids, family...the IRS. And sometimes the big girl panties have to be firmly in place in order to help your dominant. They're only human too.

2. Only the rarest few dominants actually want you to always sit quietly, look away from them, and not engage in conversation. Believe it or not..most actually want you to talk with them, engage with them and be like-you-know..a real person and not a book one.

3. Be clear about what you're seeking. Kinky sex? A good beating? Someone to hold your leash? If you're looking for one thing and the dominant that attracts you is looking for something else...well...Just because they're a "D" and you're an "s" doesn't mean that they'll work together right.

4. If you want a relationship, look for compatibility in that first. If the underlying relationship is worth anything, the D/s aspect will be easier to integrate because of the rest.

5. Do not give over all your control, sense, and ability to make your own decisions to any dominant right away. It takes time to learn about what a dominant actually wants to control, and whether you're ready to take the next step. Any submissive who gives up everything right away is just asking to be taken advantage of. And believe me...there's plenty of people (not just dominants) that will only be too glad to help you.

6. Being a submissive does not mean that your needs need to be ignored. Anyone whose done this before should tell you that to not have those needs fulfilled, just means that you're fooling yourself. The best sex on earth won't take the place of a shoulder to cry on or a cuddle when you're down if that's what you need to be happy.

7. Do not look to a dominant to fulfill you. You have to be a whole person before you can submit to anyone. It is a conscious choice, not a forced falsity.

8. Pick your battles. When in any D/s relationship, don't waste a battle with either your dominant or yourself on things that in the long run just don't matter. If you choose wisely, your dominant will know they're important because you've spoken up about them.

9. Don't expect a dominant to fix you. Yes, many can and do take great delight in helping submissives overcome their fears and challenges, but they don't want clingy, messed up, problems on their hands.

10. Don't make D/s the reason for entering into a relationship. Yes, you might want that IN your relationship, but very few work long term with ONLY D/s in common. After a time, the submissive usually ends up feeling unappreciated while the dominant feels like they've always got to be coming up with rules, punishments and expectations. It's hard on both of you to constantly try to be perfect.

Above all, be honest with yourself about what you are and aren't willing to do. Things will be in flux during a relationship and as it progresses, things that weren't something you'd thought you'd want, might be something that you'd at least like to try.

And my last piece of advice is stay away from the damned Sleeping Beauty books. Believe sub can kneel for 20 hours and hang by her wrists for days. It's an unrealistic goal. Instead, find a submissive who is already in a relationship with a dominant and watch how they behave with each other. If it's a style that you might like...ask if he or she would be willing to let you bounce questions off of them. Not every submissive experience is going to be the same.

But the mistakes always are.

[Daddy has offered to write a corresponding post geared for new dominants. I'll post it as soon as he's done]

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Fucked Like a Porn Star?

Sometimes the funniest things happen when you least expect it.

Last night, Daddy came up after work. I'd started to cook dinner, when he decided that I'd seemed so mopey lately, that I needed a really good fucking. He had that devilish little look in his eye that told me that it was gonna be really goooood...and just when we'd started, the dinner that I'd forgotten about...started burning and set off the smoke alarm. I couldn't stop giggling and said to myself as I was standing on a chair holding a towel over the alarm (bare-assed and horny as all hell) that I'd remember this one for a long, long time.

He also joked afterwards that he was in such a hurry, that he'd forgotten to take his socks off. Then when he said that he'd just fucked me like a real porn star...I was off in a fit of laughter again!

Sometimes he says the cutest things.

We ate dinner and then we just sort of lounged around, chatting a bit, and I finally fell asleep on the couch. He gave me a while, and then put me to bed....curled around him of course.

And this morning, when we woke up..I still had a smile on my face and I just knew that it would be a great day. Not because of the socks or the smoke alarm...but because I woke up still curled in Daddy's arms.

I really wish that would be enough for the both of us sometimes. But this is one time when too much is never enough.

Sunday, November 15, 2009

I Can't Believe I Forgot To Tell Him This

A friend of mine said something to me this weekend that at first, I thought "how nice". After leaving daddy again tonight, I'm now thinking...and that's what makes this the hardest thing on earth.

My friend is interested in exploring for himself, what daddy and I have together. He's written about it on his blog We're trying to help him meet normal people, who aren't damaged, needy or crazy and who practice this thing we call "WIITWD", and by doing so, hopefully he'll be able to meet someone who can help him experience what he wants...or at least find some more friends who understand how he feels so that he can explore those things on his own.

But one of the most important things I've forgotten to tell my friend in all our conversations, is that the feelings he's having, what he sees between daddy and me, the need as he calls also one of the hardest things to deal with when you have to finally come back to the reality of life.

When daddy and I are together, things are usually pretty damned wonderful. That time is filled with togetherness, closeness, sharing, laughter, and intensity. We play in public because we enjoy ourselves. People who see us together might think that it comes easy for us. We play at play...and even during those times when it gets a little intense, we're still enjoying each other enormously. We've spent about 11 months together and it still amazes me that every time I leave him, just how horrible that feeling is. For the both of us.

The very intensity of emotion, the closeness that we share, the comfort that we find with each other is also what causes a huge drop in both of us on Sunday nights. It really hasn't gotten any easier over time because as we get closer to each other, the harder it is to leave when we have to. Trying to get through the worst feelings is made all that much harder when you've just spent a couple of days experiencing the best.

I'm still learning how to deal with my daddy drop. Some weekends are easier than others. Weekends like this are very bad. It'll be Wednesday or so before I start to feel happy and normal again. In the meantime, I'll wander through in a sort of foggy memory of this weekend, and an anticipation of the next. Somewhere between the two, I'll finally hit on a combination of things that will make it bearable.

So to my friend....I wouldn't dream of saying anything to you to lessen your excitement, damper your search, or deter you from your experience. But I wanted to tell you that when you find what your looking for....that's when it's really going to get hard. Finding what you seek can bring the greatest pleasure.....and can also bring the most devastating lows when you have to return to the real world.

But even knowing this and experiencing it....I wouldn't change a damned thing.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Questions for the Day

Questions from cruising Fetlife today:

Why do subs forget that they're a person first and think that just because they're submissive that every dominant is going to be a perfect fit every time just because the D and the s parts are supposed to work that way?

Why do people in general need to win an online argument with someone they've never met, will likely never want to meet, and forget that there's a vast difference between fantasy, opinion and fact?

Why do subs read "those books" and then try to model their search upon them? Why can't they just remember that "those books" were fantasy or opinion?

Why are there people who think that they have all the answers when it comes to bdsm? When someone finally admits that they're just as confused by all the rhetoric, theory, and "one twue way" (which always means that you're doing it wrong) THAT is the person I really want to have a conversation with.

And why do some people forget that if you're reading something you don't like, if someone's opinion makes your blood boil, if their fantasies and fetishes are just too creepy for you to think about....why can't they just find that darned back button?

Carry on.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

How to Bore a Rope Bottom

I’ve made no secret of that fact that I’ve been having an on again/off again love affair with rope. Sometimes I love it, and others I’d love nothing better than to burn it from both ends.

Daddy and I have had a few discussions of rope. One of them is a leftover from the Grue we attended a few weeks ago in Connecticut.

One of the things I like to do is talk to people. Every once in a while, I find a group of people with nothing on their agendas but a few minutes to chat. At the Grue, I was lucky enough to find several of these groups over the course of the day. I thought that since it was a pretty much a rope centric day, I’d ask the question that I’d had in the back of my head for a while.

And that question was: am I the only one who gets annoyed by rope?

The group of women I was speaking with consisted of mostly bottoms. The few tops that were there had a lot to say about this as well. And what I found was interesting enough that I really want to figure out a way to explore this aspect of rope more. I’m just not sure how to do it yet.

From the bottoms’ point of view, one of the things that I kept hearing over and over again was that rope very often was boring. Many complained of their tops spending more time getting the look “just right” than they did relating to their bottoms. Most also said that only the rarest few could maintain a full takatekote for the length of time that many novice suspension riggers took to complete the tie and get their bottoms into the suspension. All of them said that at least at one time, they were disappointed that a rope scene needed to be halted because of an unsafe tie, muscle cramps, or pain. And all of those said that they sometimes stayed in rope too long because they were afraid of disappointing their top. Overall, the feeling I got was that for many bottoms, they felt like they were an extraneous piece of the “coolest, latest, must-have” skill that their tops were just having to try this week. And for many, the disappointment with rope colors their outlook completely. It has become a drag, a bore, and something that they’d just rather skip altogether.

To be fair, there were a few bottoms who loved rope so much, were flexible and young enough that they weren’t quite always cognizant of long term damage that badly done rope could do, and just really wanted to fly and get the photographs taken. They just wanted to be suspended and look good while doing it.

I think that for many rope bottoms, there’s a combination of both of those extremes. We’d like to play with it more, but rope is a building process. To get a body ready for rope takes time and effort. At least as much as it takes for tops to finish a length of hemp properly and whip the ends. Taking a long time to get the rope looking perfectly, to get every knot even, every length placed “just right” defeats the imagination of even the most creative ropebottoms. Boredom creates tension (and not in a good way), and removes the focus of the bottom from actively participating in the scene. It’s really hard to make yummy noises while yawning.

When I’d told Daddy what I’d heard, we talked about rope for a bit, and he made a joke about “maybe ropebottoms just expect too much”. He said it with a wink so I know he was joking. But I also don’t think we do. We expect to be engaged, part of the process and not just rope on a girl, and we expect that ropetops who want to do intricate ties, suspensions and other really cool rope tricks be as skilled in their craft before asking us to “play” with rope as we’d expect a person who picked up a whip or flogger. Skills classes and lessons are the times to learn. Bottoms understand that, and as a general group, are more than willing to be the uncomfortable and secondary part of a learning experience. We’re not so willing to let that same experimentation work when a really cool guy we’d love to play with asks us “if we want to fly”.

Daddy also said that maybe the answer was two-fold. Either learn to tie fast, or tie “interestingly”. I told you he was smart. Those are exactly what needs to happen to keep bottoms from having a full on rebellion against ropetops that just don’t see anything except the pretty rope on a girl.

Tying fast is self-explanatory. Sometimes the best rope scenes in the world are done with nothing except double or single column ties and a chest harness. Twisted Monk called it dynamic rope...being able to change the rope when it gets uncomfortable for the bottom extends play time. It doesn’t need to be fancy, have a lot of intricate knots, or even be truly inescapable (for the record, unless it’s an unsafe by definition tie, it IS escapable). What it has to be is fast, movable, and remembering that the rope is NOT the goal (unless of course, it is). The goal is what you’re going to do to your bottom once they’re tied up.

Tying interestingly is not so self-explanatory. Interesting does not necessarily mean complicated. It means using the rope AS the scene. Wraping, pulling, feeling each other through the rope. The hottest rope scenes I’ve seen in the past six months involved never leaving the ground! Lee Harrington’s rope scene at the Bound in Boston was so hot I could barely breathe and Amy never left the floor. It was fast, dynamic, and interesting.

No, I don’t expect too much from my rope tops. I only expect them to be honest about their skills, not try to make me into a 19 year old gumby flexible rope model, and understand that the best part of the rope IS the connection. And not to bore me. Because if you’d better be one heck of a rigger....otherwise you’ll find yourself all alone in a room with your rope wondering where the girl went to. (FYI: I’ll be shoe shopping)

Friends Can Say the Darndest Things

A friend of mine sent me a message this morning. Since he is a friend, and since I was in a very good mood after spending the night sleeping cuddled next to daddy, I tried to answer him in 140 characters or less. The questions he asked made me smile, and since my answers were less than full given the nature of twitter, I thought I’d take the opportunity here to give my view on the subject.

And as you might have guessed, that subject is Daddy/lilgirl relationships.

I’m not sure why this friend came to me to help him with this subject. I’d like to think it’s because he saw something that spoke to him when seeing Daddy and me together this past weekend. It could also be that I make no secret of the fact that Sir IS my daddy. I call him daddy when we’re together and, except for this morning when he called me something that brought a smile to my face and will probably keep me laughing for months, he usually calls me either princess or babydoll.

But since my friend did come to me, here’s my answer to his question about what defines the difference between a Sir/Master/whatever and a daddy. I hope this helps him.

To me, there is no difference. They are all names for the dominant in a D/s relationship. For every permutation of relationship, there are words that we use to define the other person...and in doing so...also define ourselves and our position within it. I personally use Sir and Daddy most of the time. Sir for when he’s being the lovely sadist that makes me fly....and Daddy when he’s being the wonderful man who is always there for me when I need him. He pinches, whips, flogs, mindfucks, and drives me as Sir. He snuggles, laughs and shares his feelings with me when as Daddy. Both can act silly, both can be strict, and both take a delight in proving that, although I may think I’m the center of the universe....he’s the one that has the universe in the palm of his hand.

I told my friend that the differences aren’t that obvious. Mostly it’s a way of relating to each other that creates a daddy. I think it’s a connection, a caring, a way of him saying that he wants me to experience HIM. He finds a happiness in my pleasure, my accomplishments, and my needs because he is the catalyst for my pleasure, I accomplish more because I want to make him proud, and he has become my need. Which isn’t to say that Doms or Sirs don’t like those things...but after having lived for the last several months within this kind of seems to me that Sirs like to create an atmosphere where they’re powerful over their submissive. Daddys like to create an atmosphere where they’re all-encompassing within her life.

A personal example of the difference that might be easiest to explain is that Sir wouldn’t think twice about waking me up at 3:00 am, shoving my face into his cock, getting a blow job and then rolling over and going back to sleep. I like that sometimes. I like that feeling of being his, being used for his pleasure and being the one he turns to fulfill his needs.

Daddy on the other hand, wouldn’t dream of waking me up at 3:00 am for anything except a snuggle and kiss to let me know he’s there. He knows that I need my sleep if I’m to function in the world the next day. And although I’d really love to give him that blow job just then....Daddy balances his needs with my own.

My friend wanted to know if it was possible to be a Daddy and not end up with a long term relationship. He said that he worried that his partners were getting more attached to him than he was to them. He said also that he had a hard time maintaining boundaries.

While I think that this kind of relationship is very possible, and would work out very well if those involved understood that the caring, nurturing aspects of a Daddy were situation specific, without being able to maintain boundaries, things get fuzzy.

Being a daddy in general looks a lot like just having a really nice, caring, attentive, boyfriend around. One who likes to have fun, laugh, experiment, and explore. One who takes joy in their partner. Daddys look a lot like those guys who give everything to their partner without expecting much in return. It would be really easy for a lilgirl to take advantage of a Daddy’s benevolence and kindness. This is why boundaries need to be established and maintained. If you’ve ever seen an out of control, spoiled, petulant, bratty child, you’d have no problem understanding why boundaries are necessary. A little girl may not like them...but without them it’s like you’ve sent a very open, loving, and free child out into the world without giving them a place to retreat. Discipline is not an anathema of a Daddy. Rules, structure and discipline are necessary so that you don’t end up with a spoiled brat of a partner.

Sir has the power to look at me and make me weak in the knees. He only says one word and I’m kneeling at his feet, with my face ready to be slapped, my ass in the air for a belt, or my neck on the floor under his shoe. He rules my world.

Daddy has the power to let me look at him and know that he cherishes not just my submission...but all of me. And only a daddy can look at me and make me feel as if I could rule the world....but doing it while he’s holding my hand.

Monday, November 9, 2009

New York State of Mind

We spent the weekend in NYC. The main reason we'd gone was to meet some of our twitter friends who were having their calendar release party. The NYCSexBlog Calendar party held at Fontana's. I got to meet Mr. Njoy (and I got to tell him how much I loved him... er...his toys) along with many of the bloggers that I love to read. And we got to have a little fun with Twisted Monk and rope. But it was a strange weekend and several things happened that have made me wonder.

The party was amazing, but it was really crowded.

I'd told Daddy before that I was actually quite shy. It has become obvious that some of the things I tell him, especially those that don't mesh with how I appear to be around him, don't make much of an impact. This is important for me to I act sometimes is NOT how I feel and what he sees doesn't always mirror who I am.

It has also become patently obvious that sometimes I need to think less about him and more about me. I just don't know how to do that.

In large crowds of people, I'm not always at my best. I frequently feel out of place. I'm too wary of people to truly feel comfortable around them, and I tend to watch more than participate. I prefer smaller groups where I can watch from around the edges and then when I've gotten the feel of the group, to decide which part of me needs to come out. I've always had this problem in large groups of people I don't know. I can't stand it when people look at me. Which, considering how I dress and act usually, I'm sure that Daddy doesn't understand that one either.

There came a point at the party where I knew Daddy was just as uncomfortable, but instead of being able to tell him that I was out of my element and figure out that we had to rely on each other, I instead focused on him. It was a way I think of not having to look at my failings again. But this time, he'd taken my concern about him as my thinking something was wrong with him.

I was surprised at how sharply he said it. I was hurt that he'd thought my concern looked like...I don't know..disdain? That I'd somehow fucked things up again. And he's seen how that plays out. I just had to get the hell out of dodge and find a way to get some air, take some deep breaths, and attack the problem from a different direction. But he hates when I leave. He thinks it's going to be forever, when all I really need is a few minutes to find my equilibrium again. When he's angry, hurt, or disappointed, it goes right into the bottom of my stomach and sits there. It feels a lot like I've been sucker punched.

I didn't sleep very well last night because it's far easier to know that things are ok when I'm curled up next to him. Being awake at 3 am gives me time to think though. And what I thought about was the one thing that I kept hearing over and over again.

And that is, that he doesn't trust me. My actions of walking away from a fight, of running away when he's angry, of self-preservation when I'm upset, have caused him not to trust me. As much as we love each other, I'm not sure that this is something that we'll ever be able to figure out given our own baggage. As much as I love him, I don't know how to stop myself from running when I've been a disappointment; and as much as he loves me, he'll never see me as anyone except a woman who has the potential to abandon him and hurt him.

We'd repaired some of the damage by Sunday night. And then he said that times like those is when he wished he'd had me on a leash so that I could only run a few feet and he'd know where I was. I couldn't say the words to him that were in my head: there will be no leashes, because a collar would also be required to attach it to. And since collars to me mean forever, even if I know they sometimes don't end up that way, and since I'm not firmly convinced that what we have between us will ever be enough to overcome ourselves, there will be no collars or leashes. I finally get that now.

And despite two more days in NY that went nicely, my NY state of mind about that frankly sucks. I went home last night thinking that while we ended up having nice weekend after all, I just couldn't help wondering if we'd also started that downslide into ending things. I can't help myself from those bad habits of a lifetime; even knowing how I am, he won't help me learn how to adapt them, and I'm afraid that the result will always be me feeling his disappointment, and him wondering if I'll be back.

And I don't know how we'll ever be able to fix this when neither of us can find a way to move on.

Friday, November 6, 2009


The amazing thing about this dynamic is that it’s not as fragile as you’d think. Maybe because it’s so intensive and so concentrated it’s a lot harder to rock this foundation. It’s not easy for a Daddy to fall from grace so to speak. There is an infallible way that a little girl looks at her Daddy. Even when he makes mistakes or fails at something, she never sees it that way. There is nothing that he could ever do outside of her that would ever make her look at him as anything less than a hero. She fights to hold onto that image of her Daddy just as diligently as he fights to maintain it.

I was reading some older Fetlife threads the other night and I ran across a posting by babygirlpoet. Now I have to say that I don't generally like what I find being posted about D/lg relationships. They're either much too esoteric or much too age-play. This is a dynamic that is very often misunderstood to mean diapers, binkies, and potty training. Either that or some sort of sick twisted incest fantasy thing.

But the above quote is one I keep coming back to. It was part of a larger (more esoteric) post about Daddy/lilgirl relationships. And it was something that I'd been thinking about especially considering Sir's current mind milieu (I had to use that word, sorry). I think I'd tried to put that feeling into words before, but this seemed to just do it in a way that was so simple. That's a lot of my problem...I'm complicated. Sometimes simple works best. Yet another rope metaphor!

And I think this is something that Daddy needs to hear right now. There's nothing he could do, say, or think that would make me think of him as anything less than the Daddy I love. As bad as things get, as fucked up as both our lives can be apart, the one thing that won't happen is that he'll ever be anything less than perfect.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Sometimes You Have to Remember How to Be Happy

First Wednesday of the month. Bondage club last night, but Daddy and I decided to stay home. And it was the first time I can remember when I was happy to miss seeing my friends. Not only happy, but relieved.

It’s been a tough few weeks for the both of us. Although he’s something of a minor hermit when it comes to staying at his house (and hates my bed), I think that sometimes he needs to get out of his house and get away from his own reminders. Sometimes I try to convince him to spend the night at my house...and sometimes he’s so close to my house that not to do it just doesn’t make sense.

He says that my apartment is “me”. Full of color, pattern and girly things. I think what he means is that my place has sort of an eclectic feeling, where my hobbies and personality hang out. It’s comfortable, cheerful, and interesting. Plus, you know, I always make sure I have oreos and seltzer for Daddy. He has to do nothing but that which he wants to do, and I have so many things to do that I don’t stare at the walls wondering.

Last night after work, he came over. He looked exhausted when he got there. He scarfed down a few oreos while dinner was cooking, I massaged his leg and feet, and I showed him the pumpkin pie I’d gotten for dessert. He had that Cheshire-cat smile that he has when he’s content and started to get a little relaxed. We ate dinner, and he relaxed in his chair and made a phone call while I cleaned up.

Then he brought out the rope.

Now, we’d played with rope a bit at the Grue, and we’d played at Domino’s party, and we’d spent some time working on the jiai shibari at the BRAG meeting. But over the past few months, the combination of my injury and both of our apathy towards rope had left us each not giving it much of a thought. In fact, we’d probably both thought that rope, other than for teaching, just wasn’t going to figure too heavily into our life for a while.

We probably should have remembered though, that one of the easiest ways for us to connect with each other, to lose ourselves in the rope, to be together in the with rope. For him, thinking about how to tie, the knotting, the symmetry helps take his mind off everything else if only for a little while. And for me, the really nice space that I can find now, even when half staying with him during it, makes me relaxed and lets my brain fly. And those endorphins are something I need to feel normalish. I’m too used to them now I suppose.

We played with rope for a while, trying some new things, and figuring out that I have a lot of work to do to get my arms back in shape for rope. We were away from it for far too long. Like a lot of things that end up always being really worthwhile....rope is one of those things that you have to work at to keep up with. Rope may be one of those things that needs to be continually worked at so that the body keeps up, the mind frees, and the people remember that happy is possible even when you have to work at it.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

My Dom, My Cat

I’ve been having a bit of an argument with my kitty.

Trouble seems to think that he’s something of a four-legged furry dom. He hogs the bed, growls when he’s hungry, he pushes me around, scratches me when he wants attention, needs copious amounts of sleep and time to do cat things, he loves rope, and demands tummy rubs, cuddles, and assorted playtime fun upon demand. I’ve giggled over the thought that doms and cats have so much in common when I’d started to think about it!

I’d worried about how the two of them would get along. Daddy likes long as they’re other people’s pets; and Trouble is something of an attention whore. Plus, Trouble really likes chasing Daddy’s rope which sometimes leaves Trouble in the doghouse and Daddy with a nasty scratch. I’ve tried to mediate that one at least, but both kind of have an affinity for rope.....just that one likes to chase the tails, while the other likes to tie the girl with them. They reached somewhat of an understanding about that one though. Daddy hissed louder and Trouble tucked tail and now watches Daddy with narrow eyes and a serious quiver in his tail.

Trouble sleeps with me when Daddy isn’t there. He’s cuddly and comforting and his purr lulls me to sleep on those nights that I just can’t find sleep on my own. The downside is that he often spoons me, smacks my eyelids when I’m asleep, and wakes up at the crack of dawn berating me because he hasn’t eaten in like two and a half hours. That, and he has a serious issue in chasing imaginary beings around the house at full throttle, and at top voice.

I really like having Trouble around. He reminds me of a smaller, louder, and furrier version of Daddy. Trouble misses me when I'm with Daddy.

But matter WHAT that cat thinks...I am not owned by him!

Saturday, October 31, 2009


I have high hopes for this weekend....but that's fairly typical....and usually by Sunday night, I've done a thing or two to regret having held onto such hope.

This has been a difficult week for me. Sir hasn't been in the best of moods and as a result, it's left me rather scattered. I've had a migraine for a week, my paycheck didn't arrive yesterday, and apparently he hated the Snow White costume that I wore to the Halloween party last week. I've got a lot to do, little time to do it, and I'm only motivated enough to drink coffee and write. I suppose that's something though.

We're supposed to attend a party tonight at Countess' house. I truly don't know whether I'm going to be up for it or not, and I'm actually toying with the idea of going back to bed for a couple of days, pulling the covers up over my head, and waking up next month when things will hopefully be better. But even I know that come tonight, I'll be itching for the party will be a blessing. At least I'll be able to be with people. But no costumes. Sir's already told me that. Maybe I'll just wear jeans, sneakers, and an old tshirt and go as a vanilla.

I can't help myself though...I do have hopes for this weekend. I've spent two wonderful nights with Sir this week already, both of which were spent just being with each other; one for me and one for him, with both of us just needing the other for the comfort we have together.

I'm not feeling particularly bratty, flirty, or happy now though and I sure hope that something changes between now and tonight. I just can't get out of this headspace lately and it's making me sad. My main feeling is just of resignation of "whatever"....and that's not a good place to be. Not even gluing up a storm last night really helped...although it did get me a little happy for a while. Enough to be happy when Sir came online.

I spent the morning looking at some of our old conversations. That always makes me feel better. To remember that time when we'd just spend time online talking. I always fell in love with him like that. With his words. Hearing him through what he wrote, feeling him.

And that's what I'm hoping for this weekend I suppose. I really need to feel him again. Without having to wear a mask.

Sunday, October 25, 2009

Can I Have it All and Do I Even Want It?

Another weekend has come and gone and once again I'm sitting at my place, alone except for the cat (who is glad I'm back) and my computer. I don't even have the energy to take care of the things that I need to for the coming week, and I know that by Tuesday morning, I'll be so far behind with those things that I've quite given up hope of catching up.

And it was another weekend which brought nothing but confusion.

While driving home tonight, I realized that I wasn't smiling. In fact, I had such a frown on my face, I could feel my jaw and neck tightening up. I felt as if my life had come crashing down in my face, and I was exhausted from merely being around myself.

I don't know why I constantly feel like this. I slept most of the day today and yet I'm more tired than I've been in months. It's like my brain is slogging around, I can't figure out what I'm supposed to do, and my attention is being divided into to many things. I miss my friends, my granddaughter, my family, my hobbies. In short, I miss my life and I'm feeling guilty about that. And I kind of wonder why the life I have with Sir can't feel more like a life together and not just one that happens at conveniently planned intervals. I wanted an entire life with someone, not just pieces of time together. But our own pieces somehow meshed together with the ones of us together. Crap, I know this doesn't make a bit of sense. Deal with it.

I've thought that the main reason that I didn't find another relationship right away after the old one ended was because I needed time. I needed to find out who I was, what I wanted, and what I wanted from a relationship. I really thought that I'd figured all of those things out and felt ready to start one if it should happen. I knew that I had clear goals, defined myself, and had created a life that I enjoyed living. I had friends, hobbies, a job I loved, and time to do whatever I wanted. The only thing that I hadn't found was that relationship. I was OK with that though. I just figured that it'd happen someday. And I figured I could fit that in with everything else. I knew it'd take up more of my time....I just didn't realize I'd have to give up everything else for it.

I'm wondering if the reason that I avoided doms like the plague before this was because I know how this works. Doms are high maintenance and I just wasn't up to maintaining that sort of relationship right away. Why do I expect myself to drop everything, not have issues and a life that interfere with what he needs, and not to bring my baggage into our time together? I like being a submissive, but that's not all of who I am. He makes me feel wonderful. But is feeling that wonderful when I'm with him worth feeling this horrible when I'm not?

I wonder about the kind of person I've become again. I rarely see my friends anymore without feeling guilty that I'm taking time away from Sir; I've seen my granddaughter three times since April, and I rarely have time to think about my hobbies, much less DO them. It's just too hard to give up the time with Sir for those other things..especially when he needs me. And truthfully, I'm just not sure if it's giving up those things that's got me annoyed, or if I'm annoyed with myself for wanting him more than everything else and letting myself become so attached that I'm willing to give up everything else.

I sit and stare at the walls, wondering what I'm supposed to be doing, instead of actually doing the things I like. I try to fill in the empty spaces with his voice, his presence, but it's just not working. I like to be with him, sitting at his house, hearing him, even just working at the dining room table while he's in his office. I like to hear him pause and say "babydoll....could you come here for a minute?" or "could you bring me something to drink?". I like being with him, even if I'm not sitting in his lap. I could very happily sit at the table, working on something else, while he's watching television. But when he wants me to be with him watching, I always wonder why he can't see that, and why I just can't tell him.

Sir says he doesn't want me to be anyone else except who I am, but I just don't know how to be that, and still be with him. I'm changing from a whole person with a valuable life that I loved, into a person who has no time for anything except working, sleeping and Sir. It's my fault that I let it get this way, but now that it is, how do I stop it?

We're damned good together. When I'm with him, I don't regret an instant of that time. It's only on these Sunday nights that I'm sitting alone, looking at that tequila bottle, and wondering why I just couldn't say no to another weekend, at his house, losing myself in him and forgetting everyone and everything included. Why can't there be a balance when we're together without making either of us feel like we're neglecting each other? Why can't just being together, around each other, be enough sometimes? Why does it have to be all or nothing?

This weekend was hard. I am exhausted with the effort it's taking to constantly be happy, be there for him, and take care of him. He's exhausted with the effort it's taking to not dump on me, and we're both just wondering if this shit will ever end and let us get back to normal. I've gotta admit that my optimism is fading and it's hard to be around him like this. He recognizes the danger. But damned if we're not both just feeding into it.

I don't want him to feel like he can't talk to me, trust me, and know that I'll be around to help him....but I don't know if I can do this all the time. It is draining on me, and as much as I'd like to tell him that I can handle it....I'm just not sure if I can.

I just can't always be happy....I am sad and angry sometimes; and I do have serious problems of my own that I'm trying to deal with. And trying to be positive and pushing my own problems aside to help him deal with his is becoming exhausting. Who do I talk to? Who do I just vent to? Who tells ME that things are going to be ok? How can I continue to be his outlet, when I don't have one of my own? And how can I tell him that I'm sad or unhappy when that will only add to what he's dealing with? I really wish I knew the answer, because it's getting harder and harder to find it in me to be happy. When we're together, it's easy to forget my own stuff. But I'm not sure that I want to anymore. I'm just not sure how I can be with him, help him, and not lose everything else in the process.

And how do I figure this one out without having someone to talk to, when I want everything but can't have it?

That is what I was afraid of all along I think. I don't expect, I don't wish, and I don't want....because I really don't EVER get to have everything that I want. And it sucks too much to pretend. And that's what I feel right now. I'm pretending to be happy, that everything is ok, that I'm not scared, and that he will be OK.

I'm not alone just on Sunday nights. I'm alone in this one for a while I think. My exhaustion isn't with life, it's with the lack of the one I learned to like.

In my search for all, I'm afraid that I'm going to end up with less than I started with.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

The Best Weekend Ever

This past weekend was probably the best weekend I'd ever had. And I don't think that I did anything all that special. I think it's because I was finally just enjoying myself without worrying about anything.

Friday night started at the Brat class for NEDS. I'd gone to that one not only because I really enjoy hearing the speakers, but because I really wanted to figure out if I was indeed a brat, or if if I just sometimes just liked to play one on tv. I'd spent some time with one of my best friends, and we kind of goaded each other into a bit of misbehaving during the class, but we'd had a ball.

I spent Friday night at Daddy's and on Saturday we'd just sort of hung around. Not doing a whole heck of a lot. I managed to finally get that haircut that I'd been putting off. We'd had lunch, I took the boy over to the park and got him a miniature pumpkin, and I went to go get the babysitter so that Daddy and I could go to a party.

The party was quite a bit further away than we'd usually go for one, but I really wanted Daddy to see the kind of place where I'd grown up. Lots of my friends were there and more than a few of our friends were as well. We talked a lot on the ride up to the party and he'd worried about whether or not we'd run into someone that I had played with before. I assured him that it wasn't likely to happen. And even if it did, most of my playmates wouldn't have breathed a word to him about it. They'd be much more polite than that I think. It's funny though, I don't have that same question in my head when we go somewhere together and I certainly know that we've been places where people he's played with before were at. I guess it's just one of those things I'll never understand.

I really wanted to show him what I'd meant by being used to a different atmosphere, a different crowd that followed rules, a different set of mores I guess. It was a comfortable place, with lots of fun, plenty of room, and well behaved people that weren't at all touristy. I think he could see what I meant when I said that this was a much different crowd of people than we'd been around at some of the local Boston parties. And I think he liked it. Not that the Boston scene is bad...but it is very different.

It was a little chilly in the dungeon, even for Daddy. But we spent some time playing with rope and he ended up putting a really wonderful spider web tie on me. It took a long time to do, and we weren't so much playing with rope as trying to figure it out, but it just seemed different. I don't know whether or not it had to do with the atmosphere, the fact that we were facing each other, or the fact that I'm learning how to enjoy rope AND stay with him at the same time. Maybe all of them. Whatever it was, it worked fabulously. I wish that there was a lot more of that.

On Sunday, we went apple picking with the family and had a great time. The smile on Daddy's face all weekend long was wonderful to me and made me happy. I like it when he's smiling and relaxed. When his face shows it. That's the reward for not being a brat.