Has no one told you she’s not breathing? Hello? I’m still here!

This place is killing me. Still awake over three hours after posting my usual “off to bed!” on Facebook, just out of a bath that I took because I was ready to scream at the prickly pubic hair growing in. Washed my hair while I was there because it’s been a few days. Heart pounding. Realize as I step into my room that I’m holding my breath; I let it out. Breathing is a task that requires my focus and deliberate attention, not something I’m doing without trying. I feel the knots throughout my body, the tension in tendons and scrambled-up muscles. This is a place where I am angry, I am tense, I am so full of ugly emotion that I feel like exploding, like grapes in a microwave, like an apple under a sledgehammer. I was horny earlier, got distracted, didn’t do anything about it. Now I’m so wound up that relaxing enough to get myself turned on again isn’t really an option. Then again, neither is screaming and screaming and screaming until I’ve let a little bit of this out. And there’s nothing available to destroy that doesn’t matter; I could benefit a lot from crowbar and hammer to wooden pallets, for example, or an old mattress, or other unwanted and broken furniture. Sleep is the only escape i have, and it’s so little, and so insignificant in its assistance. At least I breathe when I’m asleep.

Just try to comprehend that which you’ll never comprehend

There are some people who believe that any consumption of alcohol is a horrible, irresponsible, dangerous thing, that it is impossible to drink wisely or well.

To them, there is no difference between “I walked down to the bar, had a couple of drinks, hopped on the bus home, and fell asleep” and “I drove to the bar, had a whole bunch of drinks all night long, started several fights, groped every person I found even slightly attractive, then got in my car and drove home drunk, probably ran over a couple of people along the way.”

Most of the rest of us recognize that there’s a world of difference, that in the first example nobody was harmed. This metaphor can be extended, but unfortunately there are far too many people who can’t distinguish between an example comparable to the first and an example comparable to the second if I were to take this the direction I want to go with it… so it’s not prudent for me to do so.

But my eyes still see.

Watch.

Watch how people react. What how they freak out, how they distance themselves, how they find hoops to jump through, contort themselves into finding reasons for “good people” to have really been “bad people” all along.

Listen.

Listen to the threats of violence, listen to the way words are twisted and their meaning obscured. Listen to the “solutions” offered to the “problem.”

Observe.

Observe the reactions, the calculated change in how people treat someone. Observe the demands for extermination, incarceration, destruction.

And stay silent.

Silent when yet another “joke” gets thrown out about how you should be killed. Silent as another person says “hey, maybe it’s actually not a big deal,” and they too are marked as evil, shunned and hated. Silent as they preach about how “love is never wrong” and then make a point of finding an exception (that isn’t love, that kind love is wrong, it’s impossible to really love that way, you’re making it up) but be sure to nod your head in agreement when they ask you to confirm for them that you agree that you are worthless and undeserving of love. They don’t know what they’re really asking you.  It’s small comfort, but it’s what you’ve got.

Silence is golden, but it’s not the kind of gold you can spend.

Love don’t get deeper than a mother and child

The heteronormative assumptions the rest of the world makes about everything are really depressing.

“For men and women, or the other way around” (women and men, that is) is supposed to be all-inclusive. Love is so much more beautifully varied than that! And I usually end up just taking the hetero bullshit and trying to find bits and pieces I can relate to, because there’s very very very very little out there that looks like me.

It’s not difficult to look around and see stuff that is clearly “role play” in the form of “Daddy’s Little Girl.” It’s a power exchange dynamic, one that benefits from social assumptions about gender roles and power. A guy in charge, a woman underneath him. I mean, what’s an insult you throw at a guy to highlight his supposed lack of masculinity? “Momma’s Boy.”

What about the gay men? For a long time I figured that George Michael song was supposed to be about men on men, because I had only heard “Father Figure” in the context of guys who like guys. Then I saw the music video (it’s kinda creepy, but then lots of creepy shit gets romanticized…)

What about the men who don’t have any problem with “women on top”? I’m thinking about a lot of the reading that I did for a while, blogs about dominant women and submissive men and shattering stereotypes of all sorts. I’m thinking of people like “Stabbity” at Not Just Bitchy or “Professor Chaos” of Lab Coats and Lingerie — I honestly read more for the perspective of loving, dominant women, and often did plenty of the same kinds of “find what bits I can relate to” as with most hetero stuff, but I DID relate to plenty there.

What about women like me, who want to find themselves safe in the arms of a mommy? You won’t find dozens of blogs dedicated to Mommy/Little Girl relationships, the way you’ll find ones about Daddy/Little Girl couples. But then, you also won’t find “I <3 My Girlfriend” sparkly pink shirts and undies and everything else in most clothing stores, not the way that it’s simple to find a wide selection of incredibly femme “Best Boyfriend Ever” products.

And what about all the people who don’t fall into a ridiculously rigid binary classification of “boy or girl?” They are even less visible, less acknowledged than everyone else. What do they model their relationships on? Where do they get any voice in things?

I could also mention just how disgustingly white the Daddy/Girl stuff is, how overwhelmingly lacking most of the memes are in racial diversity… unless, of course, it’s to regurgitate racist tropes and hold up bigotry as somehow “beautiful” — but really, I’m not the one who should be tackling that topic.

I’m just… sad, I guess is the word, I’m sad at how invisible I feel, at how little the world seems to care about a small and off-the-beaten-path voice like mine. Seeing yourself in stories outside your own head, seeing reflections of yourself, knowing you’re not a monster… it’s important. Critical, even. I don’t see myself very often.

Posted in General. 1 Comment »

If it makes you happy, it can’t be that bad.

I find it interesting how many people I hear talking about their sexuality and sexual interests, the way they describe things that turn them on as “dirty” and “freaky” and “nasty” and “perverted.”

As far as I can see, the fact that the things that arouse them are not “mainstream” — or at least are not openly acknowledged as normative — is a significant part of the appeal for a lot of people.  That they feel they are being transgressive is much of the point, and the source of most of the erotic value in these acts.

But it doesn’t make any sense to me.  I mean, sure, I can acknowledge it on an intellectual level, but I don’t understand.  I personally am turned on by a whole lot of things that are not particularly “standard,” by things which are certainly not the socially accepted, normative, typical-script sex stuff… but I don’t see any of it as “nasty” or “wrong.”  If there’s one thing I know with absolute certainly, having come of age in a world where it is so easy to digitally connect with people across the globe, it’s that nothing — absolutely nothing — is unique to me alone. “If it exists, there is porn of it,” otherwise known as “Rule #34,” is a relatively concise was of expressing much the same thing. Hell, just spending a bit of time lurking in /b/ will do wonders for showing you the sheer variety of things that people find sexually appealing! And yes, I used to. Not my scene anymore, but mostly because I’ve found other places to more effectively address many of my interests…

So, I know that I’m not alone in my sexual interests, varied as they are.  And I have learned very well that I don’t need to fear my sexuality — I had a pretty effective crash-course in that one, mostly as part-and-parcel of unlearning the shame and stigma instilled in me from a Mormon upbringing.  And I know that I feel better when I’m comfortable with who I am in any respect; shame about who and what I am is never anything but damaging to my overall well-being.

With all that in mind, I have made some conscious shifts in my vocabulary to better reflect my relationship to sex.  I avoid references to body parts that carry a negative connotation — I don’t have “junk” between my legs, thanks, my cock is quite a treasure!  When I’m fucking, I’m not “doing the nasty” and there’s nothing I could call “getting down and dirty” about eating out a partner’s ass (unless they haven’t washed there recently, in which case I might help them wash up as part of our play!) Wanting to be tied up or locked up by someone who cares for me, and then whipped, flogged, pounded and penetrated with toys or hands or other bits of flesh (or all of the above) doesn’t make me a “freak in the bedroom,” it makes me a woman who enjoys some particular things on some occasions, and other things at other times.

As I mentioned in a recent post, I don’t need to feel ashamed of who I am or what gets me off.  Plenty of things do, and I’m okay with that.  I’m much happier being okay with it than trying to convince myself that I’m supposed to enjoy getting off more because “they” don’t want me to, because it’s somehow forbidden and therefore better.

And when my approach to life is to “seek pleasure first and foremost” and constantly evaluate what there is to gain and what harm there is in things as I go, it’s foolish to deny myself pleasure because somebody else thinks it might not be “normal,” because somebody else says it’s always bad, can’t possibly be sexy, has to be “dirty” and “wrong.” When my own lived experience says otherwise, why should I trust anyone else’s judgement on the matter? If it makes me happy… it can’t be that bad!

Diff’rent strokes for diff’rent folks, and so on, and so on.

I don’t understand some people’s delight in surrounding themselves with only people who are exactly like them. The declaration with beaming pride that you only associate with your own kind, that you make decisions about who to trust and who to believe and who to exclude based on identity markers.

And some of you at this point are nodding your heads in understanding and murmuring agreement — maybe you think I’m talking about racist idiots who only deal with other white folks, or rich snobs who wouldn’t dare to be seen walking in the same door as those poor working-class stiffs…

But I started writing this post because I’m sick of seeing people around me who are self-styled “progressives” and “liberals” and “open-minded queers and trans* folks” bragging about how the only people they have on Facebook are other queers, or how they don’t visit any businesses that are connected to right-wing leaders, or how wonderful it is that trans* women “all” have each other because “we” all understand the way the world works and nobody else possibly can.

Look, folks. Separatism sucks ass. Standing in an echo chamber where you can only hear your own words — or words identical to your own — just shuts out any possibility of hearing someone else, and if you happen to be full of shit, you’ve made sure nobody else can point that out to you.

I’m absolutely thrilled to have people on my Facebook, and people I interact with in meatspace too, whose ideas and opinions and worldviews are very different than mine.  Some of those views I can say with absolute certainty are wrong, and are harmful to me and many people I care about — and I’d bet money that many of my own views and opinions fit the exact same description.  But if I’m not willing to listen once in a while, I won’t have anything but myself and my echoes to tell me that I’m always exactly spot-on.

And I’m not saying that I’ll have my mind changed by simply listening — I don’t currently have any friends who try to tell me that the earth is flat, but if I did, it would be just another reminder that there are some people who insist on believing things that are demonstrably false. Same for other things that I do hear from friends, things that just make me more certain that I’m right when they repeat their lies. It isn’t a matter of “listening to both sides of the debate” to make an informed opinion — not when there’s only one side against a bunch of people scrambling hard to wish away reality.

And yeah, occasionally I walk away from an acquaintance online, or cut ties with a physical-world friend, when the only things I hear from them are of the “Nuh-uh, the world is too flat!” variety. I only have so much energy to spend on having that kind of silliness shouted at me.  But I still make a specific effort to keep people around me who see things differently than I do — and not just “keep around” but have significant relationships with, to know them as people and not merely as props to remind myself that I’m right… because sometimes, I’m not.

So, I suppose that means that I’m not in a hurry to walk away from the many trans* women I know who only associate with other trans* people, though it does certainly irk me when I hear another hallelujah chorus about how they’re lucky they have hardly any cis* folks in their lives.  And I’m unlikely to cut ties with the handful of “Guns and God and GOP, America’s the best country!” friends I have, either, though I do filter things on my own end to limit how much toxic nationalism-and-firepower-as-the-only-religion memes I expose myself to.  And I won’t be saying “see ya” to most of the queer people I know who post about how they find pleasure in noticing that there are no straight people on their social media — because their voices are generally balanced out by the majority of people I hear daily discussing how “those people” are an odd minority.

Diversity in practice is a whole lot more enjoyable for me than homogeneity and lip-service to “inclusion” and “tolerance.” And I’ll probably still be your friend even if you find life more fulfilling for you in an echo chamber of clones — because my more diverse connections with friends and acquaintances means that yours isn’t the only voice I hear, and I can choose whose words I listen to.

Just a reminder…

Sex is wonderful.

Bodies are beautiful –  in every size, shape, shade, and configuration.

Orgasms feel great… but they also aren’t the only goal in sex, as long as it’s enjoyable for everyone involved!

Whatever or whoever turns you on — no matter how fucked up it might seem, no matter how bizarre or unusual or dirty or perverted you might believe it to be — I guarantee there are lots of other people around the world who are just as aroused by the exact same thing.

You don’t need to feel ashamed of who you are, what your body looks like, or for getting off to whatever you do.

With luck (and often lots of patience) you’ll find an opportunity to make it happen for you! No guarantees, of course, which kinda sucks (and not in any of the good ways…) but it’s more likely than you might think!

Everybody’s different when it comes to the infinite complexities of sexuality, but we have far more in common with each other than we have different between us — and that’s a marvelous thing.

AND! It’s just as valid, just as much totally okay, if you’re not a sexual creature! Plenty of humans don’t find themselves sexually attracted to anyone, don’t get turned on by stuff the way other folks do. That’s okay!

You are beautiful, you are okay, and I love you. ♥♥♥♥♥

Posted in General. 1 Comment »
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