Archive for February, 2011

On being a switch…

I am a switch. What does that mean? I am both a Dominant and a submissive. I am both a sadist and a masochist. I am both a Top and a bottom. I am not confused, less serious, being greedy or indecisive.

Human beings are not one dimensional; human beings (some human beings anyway) are delightfully multidimensional and have a huge array of different emotional/physical/mental responses. Domination and submission are not opposed to one another; but rather complementary facets of the relationship you are trying to build.

Complementary: something that fills up, completes, or makes perfect.

Opposed: To be in contention or conflict with; to be resistant to.

Doesn’t your partner complement you rather than oppose you? (Consensual non-consent is not ‘opposition’ in my mind.)

There is no one ‘true way’ whether it is BDSM, poly, religion, politics, sexuality, how you raise your children, how open you are, how you brush your teeth and so on. I might argue that ABC is my preferred way of brushing my teeth, but I’m not going to stand there and tell you you’re doing it wrong if XYZ fulfills your needs better. If you choose not to interact with me because of my self-identity, you are more than likely not someone I’d want in my life anyway.

Then, I have folk who tell me that because I more often openly submit/bottom than I openly Dom/Top that I give a false impression. Alright, I can see that, however.. If you have a question about me, perhaps you should ASK ME, rather than assuming that because you see one thing, the other doesn’t exist? Here, my children are a good example: Just because you’ve never met my children doesn’t mean they don’t exist or that I’m not a mom.

This in the first part of a multiple blog post; This post is a type of intro to the fact that I am a switch and later posts will cover what each side means to me and how both feed me. I’d much prefer you get to know me and ask questions rather than making assumptions. ABC feeds me today, maybe XYZ would be fantastic tomorrow. And sometimes my stomach makes the rumblies that only hands would satisfy.


I am lachrymose today. Isn’t that a fantastic word? I love it. Definition: given to shedding tears readily; tearful. I know there is a lot of frustration, confusion, hurt, loose ends and feelings of ‘unfinished’ running through me about several things. But, I haven’t been sad or depressed today. I haven’t been dwelling on things mentally. I’ve been working and slowly picking up things that I’ve been letting slide. Spent time chatting with H today, which was loads of fun. I’ve just been crying. More like dripping really, there’s no sobbing or runny nose like crying I do when I get upset. Just big slow tears.

I’ve got a full weekend planned with funs and stuffs. Time with the kids and crew and friends and D. I’m looking forward to all of it… so what is the deal? I’m excited about the weekend!

…and I’m leaking.

Love Languages

This is something I wrote about elsewhere, that I wanted to put in here and perhaps add my own explanations. Test taken here.

5 Love Languages ~ Highest score possible for each category is 12.

Your Scores
11~ Physical Touch
9 ~ Quality Time
5 ~ Acts of Service
4 ~ Words of Affirmation
1~ Receiving Gifts

Physical Touch
This language isn’t all about the bedroom. A person whose primary language is Physical Touch is, not surprisingly, very touchy. Hugs, pats on the back, holding hands, and thoughtful touches on the arm, shoulder, or face–they can all be ways to show excitement, concern, care, and love. Physical presence and accessibility are crucial, while neglect or abuse can be unforgivable and destructive.

I want to define what ‘physical presence’ means to me:

Physical presence sounds simple right? Look, I am sitting right beside you! NO. Physical presence means: Using your body as an active vehicle to establish, maintain and engage in our communication. Use your body to signal your communicative intent, make eye contact, orient your head and body towards me. If you are sitting right beside me and you aren’t touching me or you are touching me but you’re entire body is turned away; you aren’t physically present with me.

Quality Time
In the vernacular of Quality Time, nothing says, “I love you,” like full, undivided attention. Being there for this type of person is critical, but really being there—with the TV off, fork and knife down, and all chores and tasks on standby—makes your significant other feel truly special and loved. Distractions, postponed dates, or the failure to communicate can be especially hurtful.

Really being there. Full, undivided attention. Not always easy to pull off, but crucial. Distractions, failure to communicate, postponing plans… all signs to me that you aren’t paying attention. To US. Occasional changes come up, mistakes in communication happen, and sometimes(especially in poly) shared time or the other relationships distract from ‘us’. But if the consistent theme of our relationship is lack of quality time, continual changes in plans, distractions from ‘us’, and failure to communicate with me… That tells me I’m not important to you.

Acts of Service
Can vacuuming the floors really be an expression of love? Absolutely! Anything you do to ease the burden of responsibilities weighing on an “Acts of Service” person will speak volumes. The words he or she most want to hear: “Let me do that for you.” Laziness, broken commitments, and making more work for them tell speakers of this language their feelings don’t matter.

Acts of Service is something I have difficulty asking for… I’ve been a single mum for so long, I’m used to taking care of things myself. If I come home and you’ve mopped the floor for me, I would be ecstatic. Broken commitments… really does anyone like that? Bending them’s just as bad, no one likes having a happy expectation broken or mangled.

Words of Affirmation
Actions don’t always speak louder than words. If this is your love language, unsolicited compliments mean the world to you. Hearing the words, “I love you,” are important—hearing the reasons behind that love sends your spirits skyward. Insults can leave you shattered and are not easily forgotten.

Yes, I like to hear the words ‘I love you.’ I like to hear why you love me or what things you love about me. Even if it’s something like: I love you for when you call me ‘fucker’ with that twinkle in your eye. Insults… again, really? No one likes to be insulted.

Receiving Gifts
Don’t mistake this love language for materialism; the receiver of gifts thrives on the love, thoughtfulness, and effort behind the gift. If you speak this language, the perfect gift or gesture shows that you are known, you are cared for, and you are prized above whatever was sacrificed to bring the gift to you. A missed birthday, anniversary, or a hasty, thoughtless gift would be disastrous—so would the absence of everyday gestures.

I’m not sure how I feel about this one… Sure, I like getting gifts. I think that the *expense* of the gift is less important than the gift meeting a need(a giftcard to Lowe’s if I need paint) or want(a selection of teas) or desire(books on anal). But, the everyday gestures are important too.. making bacon and eggs and coffee and letting me sleep in, bringing me a bunch of daisies, braiding my hair for me when I’m sick or hurt…Those are all things that are gifts; gifts of your love, attention, and care.

D & D(om)

D and I met over a year ago at a community event. I can’t say it was love at first sight. I can say his energy and presence were notable. He seemed like someone I’d like and want to get to know. I was not, at that time, looking for any relationships outside of friendship/mentor.. I was just foraying into the kink/BDsm community, though I’d been what I call bedroom-kinky for years. Slowly over the next few months, I talked to him more and more and did come to consider him a good friend, someone who gave good and well thought out advice. *smiles* Someone who could listen to me vent frustrations and somehow heard what I meant, under my words. Someone who wasn’t afraid to tell me when I was in the wrong or being a bitch. Someone with a strong and sometimes prickly sense of pride and personal responsibility.

In the beginning of the summer we talked briefly and almost jokingly about dating but at that time his responsibilities to the two relationships he was already a part of prevented us from following through. And through that summer, we still saw each other at community events and talked easily but, we drew apart a little. We talked less outside of the community. And I wondered privately what had happened. But, he was still my friend and I was happy to have him in my life.

Fall’s big event. I had teased him a few weeks before about his not having seen my boots. I made sure to hunt him down at the event. And I made a decision. I didn’t know what had happened or where he was about us or what he would say. But I was not going to keep waiting. I wanted more. For him, me and us together. And so, I took a step. I stepped into his personal space, played the boots, and I asked for a scene. Something simple. The stairwell. Orgasm. It took him a few minutes… but then he got it. He heard, not my words…he heard what I meant.

A month of talking, sorting, decisions and changes later and we were dating. Exploring what we were and where we were going. Slowly, he became my rock. A place to stand in strength, revel in freedom, and play in joy. He held me through tears and laughed with me through delight and danced with me through rage and pain. We started talking about D/s and what that meant to each of us. Were we sure we wanted to do this? It’s not a casual step for either of us, but one we needed to make in full awareness. We discussed expectations and wants and needs and desires. And we decided that yes; we would, could, and wanted to do this. I wanted to not only be his girlfriend but to be submissive to him. And he accepted.

Slowly, carefully we are finding our way and path and joy together.


I asked for a public scene last night. Something that I have minimal issues with at kink events, but this was at practice. This was in front of my chosen family. For some reason, that has given me pause for a while. I don’t want to strip or play or many other things in front of my family and perhaps that carried over into my chosen family? Regardless, I took my fears in hand and asked to go out on that ledge and play.

I asked for a scene… I didn’t know what I wanted when I asked. So, D grabbed his bag and followed me downstairs. As soon as I saw the bed was unoccupied, I knew what I wanted. Nothing in the bag, just he and I.

I wanted to wrestle.

I wanted to fight and struggle and laugh. I love to wrestle, especially against someone who’s stronger than me. I know he’ll win, I know no matter how hard I struggle I can’t escape him. And for these fears it was perfect. I was choosing something that I couldn’t win, but wasn’t intense enough to need to stop for any emotional reason. Something that was still fun and laughter inducing. I would have to go through with it, to fight, to struggle and lose. I would have to face this fear and enjoy it.

And we did. We wrestled and thrashed and fought. I knocked him off the bed once and he tossed me through the air a few times. *grins* He still has my shirt today and is making me bargain for it back. And somewhere in the middle of our scene, I let go. I still don’t know what it was I was clinging to but I let it go. I do think there are still steps to take for my personal comfort. I know there are things I’d still consider ‘uncomfortable’ that others do at practice. But you know what? That’s ok. It’s ok that my comfort levels are different and last night gave me the confidence that when I am ready? I’ll adjust. And last night verified my trust in him yet again: that he’ll guide, push, throw me right into my fears and that he’ll be there to catch me before I fall or pick me up when I do.