Heartbreak Nymphomania » life

How to deal with annoying Fetlifers

Wilhelmina Wang — Sun, 26 Jun 2011 17:34:34 +0000

Trigger warning: racist & sexist slurs

A chatlog? Haven’t done one of these in a while. Anyway, here is a chatlog between me and one of my (white, straight, cisgendered, male, top) friends.

—

Wilhelmina: i wish random fetlifers i don’t know would stop trying to come on to me via messages

Wilhelmina: this one older guy messaged me once asking if i was “oriental” and wondering if i was a switch “because i was a woman” (???)

Friend: hahaha, oh man- and then I think of all the least appropriate responses ever

Friend: but he probably wouldn’t have understood the sarcasm in the response I would have sent

Friend: Dear Sir, Actually, I prefer the term “chink,” or if you really must generalize- “slanty-eyed whore.” You are right of course on the matter of my being a switch because I am a woman- I would like to be dominant, but no matter how hard I try, I cannot overcome the fact that by being a member of the weaker sex, I can never truly hope to dominate a man. The very idea of standing up to a man, much less a white man such as yourself, who is so much better than me… I shudder to think. No, I can only hope that some day I might, with the proper guidance from a gentleman such as yourself – whose wisdom and skills no man of lesser experience and seniority could ever hope to rival - and towards the furthering of said gentleman’s pleasure, have the skills and confidence to assert my authority over other members of my same gender, assuming they were not of a superior race.

Wilhelmina: hahahahahhahahaha

—

Seriously though, I keep getting propositioned even though I’ve specified on my profile that I’m, um, not looking. I’m toying with the idea of simply responding to all unwanted messages with a link to something really gross.

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I’m not comfortable talking about sexuality in a public forum.

Wilhelmina Wang — Wed, 06 Apr 2011 22:58:02 +0000

It’s sad, but true.

I was going to write a post that was more or less the opposite of the above title. A few months ago, me and L had a threesome with another guy (who I’ll call X in this post) at our college. Since our college is on the small side, there aren’t ever many degrees of separation between me and somebody else, and soon enough I saw X’s best friend at a concert. He gave me lots of weird looks. Probably because X had told him about said threesome, and maybe the friend was judging me a little bit. I don’t know.

Typically, I don’t like drawing attention to myself. I prefer to blend in with the crowd. But, at that moment, I realized that while I wouldn’t necessarily go out of my way to announce to people that I’m down with threesomes, if someone asked me about it I’d be completely candid. Because of the small chance that my lack of shame might convince the asker that liking sex and liking group sex was nothing a woman needed to be ashamed of. And because of the small chance that a woman overhearing the conversation might secretly like “risque” sex, as well, and might feel somehow reassured by hearing someone else talking openly about it.

I’m not sure how true that is anymore.

Being in the working world has changed a lot for me. When I’m at work I try to be as appropriate as possible. I never talk about my sex life, about going out and drinking, I don’t swear, etc. Not even when I’m hanging out or having a casual lunch with my coworkers. You never know if people will end up gossiping about you to someone influential, right?

The problem is that it’s becoming increasingly evident to me that work doesn’t just stay at work. It takes over your life. Example: I’ve heard that to be successful in the PR world, you need to network constantly, not just by going to work-related events, but by going out to bars frequented by people related to your work, and, you know, “bumping into them” and getting in that face time. I feel like it’ll end up that I’ll only be completely comfortable being myself and being open about my views with people I trust and who I’m already close with, because when out “socializing” I’m never going to know if something I say will spread to someone who might be in a position to hire/fire me.

This includes “vanilla” blogging, as well. I’ve started a vanilla blog under my real name, where I talk about stuff that interests me. The only things I really keep off of there are anything X-rated and stuff about my personal life. Recently, though, I’ve noticed that I don’t feel comfortable talking about certain things on that blog. My queerness is one of them. I feel like I should be okay with talking about being queer openly, but I don’t think I’m the “right kind” of queer, i.e. I don’t want to settle down and get married to a woman necessarily. I can easily be perceived as the stereotypical “promiscuous bisexual” who is just attracted to and enjoys having sex with lots of different kinds of people. I’m also not comfortable talking about anything that’s related to sexuality or sex-positivity, my anxiety/social anxiety, or anything that’s overly liberal (e.g. how I’m anti-censorship, pro-corporate-social-responsibility, and that I prefer small independent businesses to huge corporations). I recently was speaking to a mentor from my college, who said if she were a recruiter, she wouldn’t hire me because of a picture I had re-posted on said blog. After she told me that, I took the picture down.

I don’t like admitting these things, but honestly, I have too much to lose right now to just live in the way that I think is right. I’m a fresh grad with a liberal arts degree who comes from a lower-middle-class family that doesn’t have any useful business connections. I have enough going against me as it is. I think it’s horribly unfair that I’ll be penalized for being sex-positive/being “promiscuous”/whatever when that has nothing to do with how well I work, but I can’t think of how I’ll be able to change that. I don’t think being completely open and candid no matter what the consequences will do any good.

TL; DR: I want to be the sort of person who is speaks up for what I believe in, but I’m just… too cowardly (pragmatic?) to do it. I really hope that someday I find a way to change this.

The Wonderful World of Slashfic and Yaoi, and How it Informed my Awakening Sexuality Or: The “Porn” I consumed as a 14-year-old. Disclaimer:...

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The Wonderful World of Slashfic and Yaoi, and How it Informed my Awakening Sexuality

Wilhelmina Wang — Tue, 22 Feb 2011 16:22:34 +0000

Or: The “Porn” I consumed as a 14-year-old.

Disclaimer: I don’t profess to be an expert on this topic. As with practically everything else on this blog, it’s all drawn from my personal experience, and the examples I’m giving are in no way representative of the fandoms as a whole, since there are millions of works out there and I’ve probably read a tiny handful of them, cumulatively. Yaoi and slashfic culture are also, really, two separate things, but I’m addressing them at the same time here because I had pretty much the same relationship to both. I was/am primarily a consumer of these works and never really participated by commenting or posting on forums or anything like that. In short: if you want a Yaoi 101 or Slashfic 101 or heavily researched analysis of either, you should probably look elsewhere.

I can’t remember the exact event that marked when I first started to become a sexual being. I do know that it started when I was 14. Sure, I had had sexual thoughts before then, but they were quick and fleeting and I had no idea that they were sexual at the time. No: 14 was the year that I became aware of my sexuality and started thinking about it in a coherent way. It was when I fell in love for the first time, got over my homophobia, realized that I was bisexual, and started consuming pornography or erotica.

Except I didn’t look at porn videos and pictures online, or at smut mags. No, my porn came in forms that some may consider unexpected: manga and fan fiction.

Yes. I used to be (and still sort of am)… a yaoi fangirl.

For those who don’t know: yaoi, shounen-ai, slash and Boy’s Love are all terms for pretty much the same thing¹ – media created and consumed primarily by women that features gorgeous boys who make out with each other a lot. They range from fluffy and innocently romantic to raunchy and plotless, but most of them incorporate the characters’ dynamic and build up emotional tension so that the sex scene is 100x more delicious when it finally happens.

How it all Began

I found my first slashfic by accident on Fanfiction.net. I was skimming through the Harry Potter section and didn’t know any of the slash jargon used in the story descriptions,² so I ended up reading a steamy twincest scene between Fred and George Weasley.

At first, I was shocked by what I had read. I felt like I had done something bad and forbidden, and I didn’t understand how anyone could write things that were so awful and wrong. Of course, soon enough the guilt turned into fascination, then thrilled, then not being able to get enough. This was around when I started getting into anime, as well, so I started reading slashfic based on anime series I liked – sometimes even before I had finished watching the series themselves. I discovered Adult Fanfiction and Media Miner and fan archives and started downloading original yaoi manga from scanslation directories like Aarinfantasy. Sometimes, during the weekend, I stayed up really late – often somewhere between 3 – 7am – consuming slashfic for hours after everyone else had gone to bed, so I didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing what I was doing.

Discovering yaoi and slashfic was like discovering a buffet of impossibly beautiful boys who I could mix and match together to create an infinite amount of new and exciting flavor combinations.

Doujinshi of Heero Yuy & Duo Maxwell from Gundam Wing. Possibly one of my most favorite yaoi pairings of all time³. Pictures via 1x2x1.org.

I never masturbated when I looked at yaoi. At that point I didn’t know how to. I attempted “masturbating” only once: while laying in bed, without fantasizing about anything, I put one hand inside my underwear and pressed it against myself. Nothing happened. Exasperated, I decided that masturbating must be overrated. I didn’t try masturbating again until three years later, when I started dating and had a better idea of what to do.

I didn’t masturbate, but I of course got pleasure from what I read. These warm, fuzzy, exciting feelings built up towards a fever pitch and I’d go to bed thrumming and content. There was this one time where I’m pretty sure I read myself to orgasm – I reached a climactic point in one story after at least a couple of hours of reading, and I shuddered as my eyes widened and liquid fire spread all the way through me.

The Context: a Catholic, All-Girl’s Secondary School

The backdrop to all this was a primarily Catholic, all-girl’s secondary school, i.e. middle and high school. We never interacted with boys. We didn’t have any male friends. Going on dates was completely out of the question, let alone experimenting with sex.⁴

I never spoke about my fascination with my friends. I didn’t want them to think I was strange. It wasn’t that we never talked about sex – we did. But we never talked about doing it, wanting it, fantasizing about it, or of the actual mechanics of it. Our conversations about sex consisted of nervous giggling and making random nonsensical jokes about boobs and balls. I’d giggle along with the rest of my friends during these silly, perverted discussions; all the while thinking about my “secret.” Looking back, the frequency of these conversations probably meant that all of my friends had “secrets,” too, that they didn’t feel that they could talk about in the open.

Fanart of a young, naked Daniel Dreiberg (Nite Owl) coming onto a young Walter Kovacs (Rorschach) from the Watchmen graphic novel. Found via the Watchmen Kink Meme on LJ. I have no credit for this picture, so if you know who drew it, let me know.

Women as Observers in a Perfect Fantasy World

Most mainstream porn videos and magazines are geared towards straight men. Consequently, most of that porn consists of unrealistic ideals like drop-dead gorgeous babes with slim builds, big boobs, and a love of being jizzed on. Or whatever. Likewise, yaoi manga is full of idealized romantic relationships that are for the most part completely unrealistic and unrepresentative of actual Japanese gay men. Just like women in porn all look mostly the same (white, thin, busty, feminine, made-up, etc), men in yaoi manga are all thin and beautiful, fall into several typical character types, go through some sort of convoluted relationship drama before they actually get together (and have sex), and think about their passionate loving feelings amid falling roses and shoujo bubbles. For the most part.

The interesting thing about yaoi manga is that women are rarely present in the stories, and hardly ever appear as main characters. Sometimes women take on “best friend” or sisterly roles, but more often than not if a woman plays a large role in a yaoi story, it’s as a villain – an ex-girlfriend or a love-rival who is preventing the main couple from getting together. I read one story – Zankoku Yuugi – where Man A was romantically pursuing Man B, but Man B already had a girlfriend. So Man B indirectly causes the girlfriend to get into an accident, and she ends up in the hospital. And Man A and Man B end up dating at the end of it. Even though Man B knows that Man A put his girlfriend in the hospital⁵

A page from Zankoku Yuugi Ch.1 , scanslated by dokidoki. Remember to look at the panels from right to left!

Within the Gundam Wing yaoi fandom, the main female “threat” to the Heero x Duo pairing was female lead Relena Peacecraft. While she and Heero weren’t a canon couple, it was heavily implied that they were interested in each other, or that one was interested in the other. Among the Heero x Duo fanfics I read, I encountered countless stories where Relena was demonized beyond belief, ridiculed, traumatized and, in some cases, killed off.

And remember: the vast majority of these works are created and consumed by women.

I can’t really begin to address the sinister negativity with which women are sometimes treated in yaoi. But I can address the absence a little bit. I’ve come across articles arguing that one reason why women like consuming gay male porn is because the absence of women in that porn is actually a relief. For me, it definitely was a relief. It took me quite a while before I was comfortable including myself in my sexual fantasy fodder; imagining someone else doing things to me or with me, and not just being a detached observer in my own fantasy. Imagining myself would just make me think of all the aspects of myself I felt insecure about. I did not think of myself as hot or charming or sexy and therefore I could not possibly think of myself as sexual.

Consuming yaoi was a form of escapism. I knew it was a fantasy world; that it wasn’t real. And because it wasn’t real, it was a safe space where my curiosities and potential turn-ons could come out to play, without any consequence or responsibility. I could be sexual without… actually being sexual.

In the world of yaoi, women are the ultimate voyeurs of a perfect fantasy.

10 Years Later

So yaoi played quite a big part in shaping my sexuality. This post doesn’t really have a conclusive point; except that after writing this I find several things worth noting. As a teenage girl:

the Internet was probably the most important tool I used to develop my sexuality – not magazines or talking with my peers
I didn’t feel like consuming porn or talking about sex were things that were appropriate for me to do
I didn’t really involve myself very much in my own sexuality – I didn’t touch myself or even picture myself in my own sexual fantasies

I wrote this post both to include yaoi and slashfic in “lady porn” and to prompt a discussion about it; but also, I guess, to prompt a discussion about teenage girls and porn. When most people think “teenage boys,” they think “sex-crazed horndogs” and assume that of course they’re looking at porn. Or they’re trying to. Which isn’t exactly a positive picture and probably isn’t completely true, either. But what about the girls?

This post is part of a blogosphere-wide carnival called Lady Porn Day! Read more Lady Porn Day posts or keep up with the discussion on Twitter under the hashtag #ladypornday.

Except yaoi and slash are usually more explicit, and slash refers to fan fiction, not anything canon
e.g. lemon = explicit sex scene; using an / or x between two names denotes a pairing
I somehow found out about the pairing before the series they were from, probably because they’re such a popular pairing. I didn’t really like Gundam Wing, the series, all that much. Too much mecha and war and politics for my taste
Although my school ended up having a lot of lesbian, bicurious and queer women in it. Go figure.
In order to persuade Man B to date him, Man A also basically took Man B hostage, blackmailed him, and once or twice forcefully coerced him into doing sexual acts against his will. So it was a fucked up story, in many ways. But oftentimes in yaoi manga, destructive and extreme acts performed by a character are just taken as evidence of how strong and passionate that character’s love really is.

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“Kink” is a Matter of Perspective

Wilhelmina Wang — Mon, 07 Feb 2011 14:12:09 +0000

Ask a BDSMer if they think strap-on sex is “kinky” and the answer is often no. Ask a “vanilla” college student the same question and the answer is almost always “yes.” That’s a telling and important difference and I urge us to honor that reality, for our own benefit, and the benefit of the sexual freedom movement as a whole.

The above quote, from this article written by Maymay, perfectly articulates the discord and discomfort I feel when discussing “kinky” sex with a group of mostly vanilla acquaintances. Maybe I’m missing a point a little bit; maybe the point Maymay is making is that strap-on sex doesn’t necessarily fall within the definition of “BDSM” since it doesn’t have to involve bondage, D/s, or sadomasochism at all. However, that quote struck a chord with me because I often find myself in a position where everyone else perceives certain sex acts that I partake in as kinky/weird/risque/naughty, whereas I just perceive them as… normal.

I read the aforementioned article around the same time that I found another article published in my alma mater’s daily newspaper.¹ The article was about an orgasm workshop organized by the college’s sexual health peer advising group². The author of the article was apparently offended by the existence of the workshop and by the emails and fliers posted to advertise it. He said that the group should stick to educating students on safe sex and not spend their resources on teaching people how to have satisfying sex.

Now, I obviously took issue with his assertion that sex ed had to be full of STDs and pregnancy scares and negativity, and that nothing else about sex was important or worthy of running a class or discussion on. Besides that, though, he also said something about how he didn’t expect the student body to be at all interested in a workshop about orgasms and, like, butt plugs; which I assume he found completely outlandish and bizarre, from the tone of the article. The high turnout at the event shows, I think, that people definitely were interested.

Since I started this blog, I’ve reviewed butt plugs of all shapes and sizes and materials, and I’ve not only learned how to give myself a G-spot orgasm, but I’ve participated in various “kinky” activities like threesomes and pegging and sex in public and, obviously, none of that is at all weird to me. All of it is merely a part of my life. An exciting part, maybe, but a part of my life nonetheless. Not a dirty, back-alley secret. I wish people like that guy would remember that the world is made up of all kinds of people and maybe not everyone sees the world the same way he does.

Also, the rest of Maymay’s article is definitely worth reading. Another gem:

The general impression of kinky people is that they are a special, identifiable group, different from the schoolteachers, dentists, grocery clerks, and bus drivers we encounter every day. Different from “us.” And unlike “us,” dangerous.

This idea hurts everyone.

[Re-quoted from a keynote speech given by Dr. Marty Klein.]

Yes, yes, yes.

I don’t want to link to it here, so please don’t ask me to.
And headed by one of my close friends, who I was very proud of!

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I don’t much like playing games

Wilhelmina Wang — Sun, 16 Jan 2011 02:37:55 +0000

During my “wild” college days, one thing that bothered me about the flirting dynamic, or whatever you want to call it, was how I would say “I’m sorry, I’m not romantically/sexually interested in you” and sometimes the other person wouldn’t take me at my word.

Instead, they’d take that as an indication to try harder (?!) and that I needed to be “won over.”

Or they’d assume that I was being coy or playing hard to get.

Or that I was putting them up to some sort of challenge.

Or that I could somehow be persuaded to change my mind.

I mean, if I ever were to give in, it would be out of desperation; because I really wanted to have sex and there was nobody else available. But does anyone really want to be fucked out of desperation?¹

Some of this probably stems from the assumption that men always want sex, but women either don’t want sex and need to be talked into it, or can’t admit that they want sex because then they’d be branded “sluts”, and everyone knows that’s a horrible thing for a woman to be.² Oh, and that dating used to (and in some places still does) involve the man “wooing” the woman. I also think some of it also stems from people sometimes playing “hard to get” because they’re afraid of making themselves vulnerable, or because people value things that take more work to have, or whatever.

I’ve never really cared for, or been very good at, games like those. I either completely ignore or avoid the person I like because I’m too chicken to do anything about it, or I come right out and tell them how I feel about them.³

I don’t think I make a very good pursue-ee. But one day I discovered I could be the pursuer, and the world got quite a bit brighter for me.

I only did this once and, while I don’t act like it never happened, I try to put it out of my head most of the time.
I’m being sarcastic, clearly.
The first time me and L slept together, we were making out when I suddenly stopped and told him I really wanted to get naked with him :/

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Shoe Slut

Wilhelmina Wang — Wed, 29 Dec 2010 01:28:32 +0000

A little shoe porn for you. I have an unhealthy attraction to utterly ridiculous shoes. Low, sensible heels just… don’t do it for me. Maybe it stems from the fact that I’m short? Not that I’d be able to wear any of these in real life, ever, but I can dream, right?

Camilla Skovgaard

ACNE

Alejandro Ingelmo

…and the grand finale:

Alexander McQueen

These make me want to swoon. I’m not usually one to masturbate over objects, but these? I just might.

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Banners & Commissions

Wilhelmina Wang — Tue, 30 Nov 2010 04:52:37 +0000

Just a heads-up that I have two new pages. If you want to link to me for some reason, now you have banners to do it with! Also, I recently started writing copy for two sex toy stores (fyi, this has absolutely no bearing on reviews or content that appears here), so I thought, what the hell, maybe I can try and do more of it. I’m also offering to write personalized erotica stories. More info here.

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“Don’t look so sad, beautiful.”

Wilhelmina Wang — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 16:30:09 +0000

…That’s what some guy said to me when I was on the way home one day, around when I just moved to NYC. I think I responded by ignoring him and continuing on my way. Maybe I rolled my eyes. When I got home, I tweeted irritably about it on my vanilla Twitter account. One of my male friends from college responded thusly:

“At least he wasn’t being sketchy! And he was paying you a compliment!”

Let’s pick apart the above three things, shall we? – The dude’s comment, my reaction, and my friend’s comment.

- At least he wasn’t being sketchy!

Granted, my friend was right, the dude wasn’t. He didn’t do anything inappropriate. He called me “beautiful”, instead of something lewd and crude. I guess it was a relief that I didn’t have to deal with any of that. However, I think it’s an immense pity that I’m expected to feel good about not having been treated shittily. Honestly, I do often expect irritating behavior from men, and I’m refreshingly relieved when I can have a decent conversation with a random stranger without him attempting to hit on me or making me feel uncomfortable in some way. It sucks that decency is the exception, and not the rule. It sucks that I have to deal with shitty behavior, and it sucks for men to be perceived as horny skeezeballs.

- Don’t look so sad

First of all, where the hell do you get off telling me how I should look? I don’t even know you! Why don’t you mind your own business?

Second – we were talking about this in the masculinity class I took. A girl in the class was talking about how she was stressed out and working really hard and a bunch of her male friends who saw her told her to look more cheery. She was irritated by that because, well, she was stressed out and working, so had the corresponding facial expression, and didn’t see why she had to smile when clearly she wasn’t in a very good mood. As a counterpoint to that, one of the guys in the class added that he was once having a very good day, so was walking around smiling. His guy friends reacted by accusingly asking “What are you smiling about?” So basically, women are expected to be expressive, pleasant, cheerful, etc, and men are expected to be emotionless, stoic, etc. Clearly, this is stupid and repressive for both parties because women can be stoic or grumpy and men can be happy or sad.

I don’t smile a lot. When I’m walking somewhere, I’m usually thinking about things and so tend to look down and appear very serious. People often interpret it as upset or sad, but really it’s just contemplation.

- Beautiful = compliment

And this is probably the most problematic thing of all.

Okay, yes, being called beautiful is a compliment. When I send pictures of myself to L, and he calls me beautiful, I smile and feel myself fill with self-conscious pleasure. It makes me both feel good about myself and how I look, and about him enjoying and being pleased by how I look.

However, again, the stranger thing comes into play. I care about what L says because I love him and he’s a very important person to me. But when it comes to strangers calling me that, depending on the time and context I can feel anything from flattered to indifferent to annoyed. In this case, it was more annoyed, because I felt like he was using “beautiful” in the same way people use “cutie”, “sweetheart”, etc. As terms of endearment. From a lover? Sure, though I’ve never dated anyone who did the whole pet-name thing. From a stranger? They’re assuming a familiarity that doesn’t exist, and it comes off as condescending. It makes me feel small and petty, which I do not like. I only want people I know to call me those things. If I even let them in the first place. If I don’t know you well? Call me by my name, if you know my name. If you don’t know my name, then just don’t call me anything at all.

Another layer: – and this is something I’ve talked about before. Calling me “beautiful” automatically puts my appearance first. It puts beauty ahead of intellect, personality, and, yes, humanity. Over time I’ve noticed that most of the ways I can up my confidence and get noticed are based on looks. For a woman, being powerful is about being a bombshell, being gorgeous. I’ve often wanted to feel powerful in other realms, by accomplishing something amazing or by having very intelligent comments to make. And, granted, I’ve done that and it was appreciated by some when I did. But that doesn’t always happen. I remember having grown an immense amount as a person over my senior year, and yet upon catching up with a friend I had made during freshman year, but had become distant from, some of the only comments he could make were that I used to be so much slimmer and that I used to dress a lot better.

So, yes, being called beautiful is a compliment. But, then, it isn’t always.

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Jitters

Wilhelmina Wang — Thu, 22 Jul 2010 04:57:44 +0000

L is coming to visit tomorrow, and I’m a little scared.

I’m also immensely excited and happy, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be scared as well, right?

L & I have explored so many things together – in every respect, but I’m focusing on sexuality, here – and the more we explore, the more I feel as if a certain momentum is building. Also, it seems the further we go, the more likely a D/s aspect is going to come into play. L is in no way or form a submissive, and neither am I with him, not all the time. And in terms of our personalities and our relationship, there isn’t a clear person who is “in charge.” I quite like it that way. Nevertheless, sooner or later, in the bedroom, I’m going to end up bossing him around.

Upon pondering his visit, I find possibilities & imaginings flitting through my mind, hence a sneaking insistence that I can’t not try them now that I know that I can. I mean, presumably. It’s much easier to simply fantasize about things without attempting to enact them. Without becoming a reality, they’re infinitely filmreel pristine perfect. Also, being the one who wants to do nasty things to the other, well, not to state the obvious, but you kind of have to be the one to come up with the plan. I have a good idea of what he likes; of what he wants me to do with him. But even so, I’m preoccupied with silly little grievances like: I don’t have a cane, where can I get a cheap cane? And will that particular one work? I want to bend him over the end of the bed and tie his ankles to the bed’s feet, but my bed is lame and doesn’t have feet, it only has wheels located closer to the center, how will I get around that? And, most importantly: what if he ends up not liking what I’m doing? What if I fuck up?

Being a switch (and yes I’ve finally decided to claim switch) can be really irritating. I know that he wants me to hurt him, that he wants me to control him… That he’s taken audio files of himself jacking off because he wants me to listen to him & know what thinking about me does to him. I know all this. But I still haven’t quite managed to tap into that raw energy that I know is there; to tap into the desire to see him marked up and prone and open and willing to do whatever (within reason) I tell him to. My conflicting desire to have him do those things to me sometimes interferes. See: my last post. He’s not the kind of person to lay there and take whatever I dish out; he reacts, he grabs me, makes me hurt. And instead of fighting, like half of me wants to, I typically give in to what the other half wants, which is… to give in.

The thought “maybe I’m not really dominant” enters my mind, even though I know that that’s just silly. There is no right way to do something… as much as I know that, I’m intuitively inclined to think that there is, and that I’m not fitting it.

Even though I’m worrying about this, I know at the end of everything, I’ll simply listen to me and to him and to what we want; and that even if my plans don’t work out, we’ll have copious amounts of rough sex anyway and it will all be fine and dandy.

Edit: As always, after writing about something that preoccupied me, I find that I’m not thinking about it as much and not even sure why I was so worried about it in the first place. Ah, the therapeutic powers of writing.

Edit again: After the initial psychological nail-biting… exercising my creativity on this is quite… satisfying and amusing. I was envisioning possible things I could do with my room, and with items I could easily get from pharmacies and hardware stores and laying out situations in my head. Weighing what action would cause what effect. It was like composing an outfit or a writing piece, only better.

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Make me a Match

Wilhelmina Wang — Mon, 12 Jul 2010 11:19:04 +0000

Wil: [sticks a $2.99 price tag from a purchased energy drink on L's shirt] There, now you’re $2.99.

L: So I’m a cheap slut?

Wil: You’re my cheap slut!

L: [laughs] I’d totally put that on a T-shirt and wear it. “Wilhelmina’s cheap slut.”

Wil: Next time we’re at Zeta Mu I should just write it on your chest and you can walk around shirtless.

Later…

L: What do you want for dinner?

Wil: I’m fine with leftovers. Since I’m, you know, a classless ho and stuff.

L: [laughs] I love that you just said that. Hey, you should put that on a shirt. Then we can match!

—

…yeah, I like to think of us as a subversive version of that disgustingly cute couple you wish wasn’t in your line of sight on the subway.

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