Ev's kink corner

Content Warning: law enforcement, non-consensual coercion including sex.

I'm a bit of a speed demon.

That is to say, I'm "a bit" like a country road in Upstate New York is "a bit" dark in the middle of the night. That's where I found myself, driving home from a dinner event in the Adirondacks. It was such a deep and moonless night that even the deer weren't having it.

How to stay awake on my long drive? Well, I had the perfect solution- my little sound-activated toy, buried inside of me as I hurtled down the road, blasting Nightwish, Woodkid, Wardruna, Depeche Mode, Rammstein- anything with a nice heavy beat and lots of powerful chords. I was enjoying my drive immensely.

This is where we get back to the speed demon bit.

I didn't know that part of the countryside very well, so, admittedly distracted as I was, I didn't see the speed trap. I didn't notice the very bored cop who didn't even have the aforementioned missing deer to clock.

He sure the fuck noticed my little blue car, though.

He must have been looking for some excitement, because he ran code and everything- sailing up behind me and blasting me with lights, sirens, the whole deal.

"Pull over, roll your window down, turn off your vehicle, and put your hands on the wheel," the loudspeaker blared. I shakily complied. Oh gods. I could not afford a ticket. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

Boots crunched on gravel as a dark figure approached, a looming silhouette haloed by the bright lights of the high beams behind me. The cop raised his arm, and the blinding effect of the headlights was intensified by his maglite.

I hadn't counted on an encounter with The Law that evening, so I was wearing my typical summer "going out" outfit- a skimpy red top with a bralette underneath that sported little black ropes criss-crossing my breasts, a black velvet mini-skirt, and a pair of nice black boots. The silence of the night was something of a shock after Rammstein, and I almost thought I heard a little groan coming from the back of his throat. Intimidated, I wished I could see his face.

I decided to try for a tremulous smile. "Hey officer, how are you doing tonight?"

A deep voice replied, "a lot better than you're gonna be. Your eyes are looking a little glazed, there. Been drinking tonight?"

I shook my head. "No, officer! Not a drop. It's just a long drive, and-"

He cut me off. "I'm not interested in your excuses. You were speeding. Do you know how dangerous that is?"

"I'm sorry officer. I didn't realize! There was no one else around on the road and-"

"Yeah, sure," he interrupted, "and you're totally innocent. This is what you're going to do. A quarter mile up the road there's a turnoff. You're going to turn right, go down the drive, turn around at the end, and drive back up enough that there's room for me behind you. Do you understand?"

What the fuck? "Yes, officer?"

"Good," he said. "Be smart and comply. You don't want to get yourself into any more trouble tonight."

He thumped the top of my car, making me jump in my seat, and strode back to his vehicle. I still hadn't seen his face! I hated that I couldn't see his face. Couldn't make a connection. Couldn't play "aw shucks officer" and mention the cops I trained with like I could have back in California. New York cops were a totally different breed- they were total assholes, from what I'd seen.

I slowly pulled from the shoulder of the road, using my turn signal and everything, speakers off. I could be good, right? Maybe he'd appreciate how safely I was driving. Maybe he just wanted a safe place to run my plates and write a ticket that wasn't on a narrow country road. My heart was hammering in my chest as I tried to convince myself.

I wasn't buying it.

The cop rode my ass the entire time, not giving me room to even think about pulling a runner, not that a Saturn could outrun a lame donkey. The drive went back quite a bit further than I expected, and when I pulled around and parked, the darkness seemed to deepen, somehow. I was really all alone out here. Nobody was going to pass by and see me.

His car door slammed.

The officer walked to my door, and I cringed a tiny bit with every step. He hadn't paused at all in his car to write anything down or call anything in. I shivered.

"You need to step out of the car for me," he said.

I hesitated.

"I said get the FUCK out of the car," he growled in that aggressive cop voice used on noncompliant perps right before they were going to kick their asses.

I moved.

The moment I was out, he was grabbing my shoulders and spinning me around, pressing me against the side of the car.

"Put your hands behind your back. I don't believe you've got nothing on you. This is for your protection and mine," he said coldly.

I still. Couldn't see. His face.

As I moved my hands behind my back and felt the cold sharp press of metal closing around my wrists, my heart began to beat against my ribs and my breath came out in quiet little pants. Fuck. OH FUCK. My toy. Every time he spoke or made a noise, it vibrated. Could he hear it in the night, over the crickets and the frogs?

"Walk with me to the trunk of your car," he said, gripping my arm and levering it up just a tiny bit, to show me how easily he could make it hurt if I didn't obey him. Asshole.

That's right, self. Keep that brave face on. Chew him out in your mind. Don't let him get in your head. That's what I told myself. It wasn't working.

He turned me to face the trunk of my car, and ran his hands down my sides. I shuddered, hard. I couldn't help it. His hand gripped my thigh for a moment. This wasn't how a cursory search went. He wasn't using the backs of his hands. My stomach dropped.

He spun me towards him and ran his hands over my breasts, which are massive, I have to admit, not that I can help that. His hands paused for a moment. I felt balanced on the edge of something I couldn't see.

"Fuck," he said under his breath, then louder, "you could have anything hidden there. Hold the fuck still."

I whimpered, and he plunged his hands down the front of my bra. I cried out in shock, then, feeling him roughly palm my breasts, digging his fingers down my cleavage, then under them, yanking them up out of the top of my bra and top.

"Nn. Goddamn," he groaned, and my traitorous little toy buzzed, making me squirm, mostly in fear. Mostly. "Turn around. I know you've got something on you."

In me. Oh gods he was going to find it. I froze up again.

"I said turn the fuck around!" he spun me around and shoved me onto the trunk of my car, bending me over. I felt my skirt flip up and tried to stand again. His hand planted between my shoulder blades and shoved me back down again. "Bend over and stay there," he roared at me.

I stayed, pressing my thighs together, whimpering. His hand moved away from my shoulders, and I felt my panties being yanked down.

"Open your legs," he ordered. I squeezed them tighter. Suddenly, a sharp, stinging blow landed on my ass. I squealed in surprise, flooded with embarrassment immediately. "Open your legs or you're gonna get hurt," he bellowed, and, frightened, I did as he said at last.

His knee slammed into my pussy, and I screamed, that time. He was going to do it. He was. He was.

"You aren't gonna keep me out. If you fight me, it's just gonna hurt more. Hold still," he told me, and I heard a rustling sound, then the snap of latex gloves and the sound of something squeezed out of a tube, followed by wet, squelching sounds. "What have you got? Drugs? Is it drugs you're smuggling?"

"No, please, I don't have any drugs, please don't-"

"Don't you fucking argue with me. Stay down."

Glove-clad fingers coated in cold lube probed my pussy lips, pinching them and spreading them open, sliding between them, first the outer, and then down the seam of my pussy. they paused on the silicone-coated antenna of my toy.

"I fucking knew it," he said, and yanked it out of me, hard enough that I screamed again.

I heard him groan quietly again. It was a hungry groan. He plunked my toy down on the trunk of the car, right in front of my face. "You ARE a naughty thing, aren't you?" he rumbled. "don't. Fucking. Move."

I felt one hand press down on the small of my back, pinning me in place A finger probed against my opening, pushing in, deeper and deeper, rotating around as he explored every inch of me he could. The moment he rubbed against my g-spot, swollen from my toy on the trunk, I writhed. He hooked his finger roughly against me and yanked upwards, hard. I cried out, and he responded by shoving a second finger into me. It hurt, stretching me, plunging into me, and then he was pumping both of them in and out of my cunt, hitting that spot every time.

I couldn't stop, then. I couldn't stop moaning. I couldn't stop squirming. I couldn't stop my body from responding, until the moans were sharp little pants, until I was begging, pleading, "please, please, please," and I wasn't even sure what I was begging FOR any more.

And then, he made it happen. He forced me to cum.

"Yeah, that's what you really are, isn't it? You're a hungry little cumslut. I knew it. I fucking knew it," he taunted, pulling his fingers out just as violently as he'd ripped out my toy. I shouted wordlessly, and he told me, "oh don't you worry. I'm not done yet. Not by a fucking long shot."

I heard a belt unbuckle, the sound of a zipper, then the crinkle of a wrapper. Oh gods, no. "Please don't," I breathed, trembling. "Please..."

He smacked my ass again. "You're in no position to make demands, little cocktease bitch," and he pressed down on my back with his hand again as I felt the head to his cock begin to press into me. I was tight with fear but slick with lube, and I could feel my pulse thumping in my clit with sharp little aftershocks of the orgasm he stole from me.

"You come into MY territory, thinking you can do whatever you want, speeding along like a spoiled little bitch who always gets her way, is that it? Do you always get whatever you want? Shut the fuck up, I don't even want to hear it. You're not in control here, I am," and with that he began to slam his cock into me, pounding so hard the entire car shook with every thrust, his hips battering my ass.

He beat my pussy from the inside, over and over and over again. Every time I tried to flinch away, he'd slam into me even more for a few strokes, punishingly hard.

I was screaming, and he laughed and told me "No one can hear you out here, slut. Nobody's coming to save your ass. You're mine until I say otherwise. You're my fucktoy now." Tears joined the moans and screams, but I felt it building again, that urgency, that slick and throbbing need, until I came, screaming, clenching down on his cock. I felt the rhythm of his thrusts grow sharp and choppy, and thought, "he'll be finished soon," but then he pulled out with a roar.

"Not yet. I'm not done having fun with you yet. I'm gonna play with you, bitch, and then I'm gonna paint you with my cum so you have to wear it all the way home," he purred, and I heard a snap being undone behind me.

Something cold, hard and blunt pressed against my opening. Something thick. "I know you're plenty wet, I could hear it every time I shoved my cock in you," he said. "Take it. That's right. It's not going to stop, it's going in, so you'd better relax and breathe, because you're getting it either way."

It pushed inside of me, stretching me open, spreading me so wide and tight. My breathing slowed, deep and shuddering and overwhelmed. His hand left my back, and I saw the flash of a camera light the rear window of my car. "Gotta have something to enjoy later," he said, and then I could hear the wet sound of him jacking himself off as he fucked me with his baton.

I was beyond words, then, unable to even beg. I was shattered. I could only take it, only feel, only ride it. There was no stopping it. The wave, as it began to build and crest, overwhelmed me, the shock of it taking me over until I came and came and came. "Yes, give it to me, cum the the pain, give me everything," he ordered, and it kept building and coming until he finally hit my g-spot one more time and pulled it out. The pressure peaked, and I felt my cunt contracting, hard, felt the wetness, the spray, as I squirted all over my panties and the ground.

A moment later, I felt something hot and thick and wet splash onto my back, all over my ass, as he groaned and came, coating me with thick, roapy strands of it.

He planted his hands on either side of my hips, panting, and didn't move for a minute or two. His breath was hot on the back of my neck.

"Pull your panties up," he told me, stepping away. The air felt cold on my hot skin, colder now that he had created some distance between us.

Shakily, I pulled my panties up, over the evidence of what he'd done to me. Wet with his cum, and mine. I would have to sit in it the entire way home. No way in hell was I stopping for anything, once I got in that car.

I wobbled to the driver's side of my car, barely able to stand, and dropped into my seat, sucking my breath between my teeth when the impact of it went right to my sore cunt.

I turned to him, silently, and finally saw his face. His eyes bored into mine.

"Now, I'm going to let you off with a warning this time, but don't you go speeding again. Be safe out there, you hear me? You may go now," and with that, he swaggered back to his vehicle, leaving me to flee into the dark in my car... but not as fast as before.

I'm a sentimental soul.

I get attached. I love. I feel guilty. I worry about making final, hard decisions, letting go of possibilities. I fall prey to the fawn response, and when I've loved someone, especially, I have a very difficult time setting boundaries when things need to decisively end.

And so, as a result, though my ex dumped me almost a year ago, he left open the possibility of getting back together some time in the future. Having spent enough time around him, I knew that any honeymoon period would eventually dissolve into freak-outs, anger, and emotional attacks. It is a constant cycle with him, in most aspects of his life- something new is great, it's all gonna be good from now on. It'll be different this time. This time is really it. Then something small will happen, or maybe not so small, but not PERFECT, you know, and he'll start spiraling into anger, despair, he'll give up on the thing, usually with a fair amount of anger and an attempt to leave a big exit wound. In that state, he'll lash out at anyone who is near, trying to do as much damage as possible. Yeah. And he isn't willing to get mental healthcare of any kind. So.

You shouldn't have to pay the price of pain, of a degradation of your self-esteem, of fear, of stress, of enduring someone's fits of rage, to "earn" their love and the good times when they make you laugh and smile. And also? The price for being protected from others shouldn't be not being safe from the person who is supposed to be protecting you. Really. Truly. It shouldn't be. 

So, even though I cared about him, he proved to me, time and time again, what the pattern really was. I was avoiding being the one to set that final "it's not going to happen, ever again" boundary. Maybe it's hard for me as a sub, maybe it's hard because, like I said, I'm sentimental. I'm loyal, more than I should be, sometimes. I don't want to hurt anyone. I want to make sure my family is safe, and that I'm safe, and my misfiring "fawn" response tells me to placate, please, and keep my head down. 

But sometimes you just have to do it, stand up, and say, "I'm sorry. Part of me will always want you and love you, but we aren't good for each other. It was really bad for my mental health, being with you and trying to weather your rages. I can't do that again. I'm working on pursuing healthy, safe relationships. I deserve to be safe and happy and not abused. I can't go there with you again. I have to say no, but I really hope that you can get the help you need."

It was painful, and there will be painful processing, but I also feel a weight has been lifted. I don't have to worry about deflecting and fending anything off. I can much more firmly say "no." I don't have to worry about being tempted into something toxic with him again- I was quite clear. He was having an ok day, so he didn't try to damage me, and we parted ways kindly.

And I feel even more free to reach for healthy relationships with good people. Relationships where I can be good for them, and they can be good for me. Relationships with mature people who will, of course, have flaws, but who will also be willing to do the work. Relationships that are mutually respectful, considerate, and loving, like the one I have with my beloved Ashigeru.

Sometimes we have to say goodbye to what we wish could have been, to make better room for something truly good that is real and here and now, and potential that CAN be nurtured into fruition in this life, not in dreams of another life. 

May we all find the strength to let go of the attachments that cause us suffering, and to reach out and find our joy!

"Submissive" doesn't mean "automatically yours" or "weak doormat," and if you come at me with something like "hi slut" by way of introducing yourself, I'm going to assign you an equally insulting name. The last person who tried this got named "Bitchcakes McGee." 

Just don't... don't do this. Where did y'all internet "doms" get these ideas from? They sure didn't come from being a part of any real life community, or reputable book, or reputable online class or community. Shitty porn, maybe?

Anyway. Don't test me. Or anybody else. Grow the hell up and learn some respect, or no genital access of your choice for you!

*cw, bigotry, homophobia, suicidal ideations, religious abuse*

I was reading something on Reddit today, something unrelated to my life, where someone was acting just atrociously judgmental and abusive towards a stranger because she didn't approve of something completely harmless that she was doing.

And.

It reminded me of when I was a teenager, in church. The nasty power-tripping church people that were so hateful and judgmental. The ones who loved to order me around, who loved to rant at me. I was the pastor's daughter, so they could take things out on me when they couldn't get to Dad. I was the pastor's daughter, so I didn't dare defend myself because I wanted to protect Dad. I saw how loving he was and how much these people could hurt him with their pettiness. It wasn't my job to protect him. I was a kid. I get that, now, but protecting others was how I coped with my trauma as a kid. OK. Still is.

And I didn't want Dad to lose his job because of me.

Mom and Dad never knew how bad it was. I'd stopped telling adults about the really bad stuff when I was 7, because nobody saved me then. They weren't omnipotent beings after all, the adults I loved and trusted. But they knew a bit. I know it really upset dad, feeling torn, feeling like he couldn't really protect me enough, either.

I didn't tell them how often I would think "I'd rather be dead than have to go back to that place," how I'd been thinking it for years, back in El Centro, too. What I went through there, either.

I was suddenly seized with the urge to write, of all things, a google maps review of the church in Santa Barbara. I wanted to give a shout out to the church youth group director in the mid-90s, who told us all that gay people were evil sinners who could never be redeemed. That they would go to hell. I remember being so angry. I remember some of the older teens whispering about him getting way too close with some of the younger teen girls, too. But it was that hateful homophobia that hit me the hardest that night. He ranted at us for an hour. I lost it at him at last. I don't remember what I said. I think I finally refused to go back to youth group after that. The shout out was for that guy being so hateful that it finally helped me escape the abuse of the church by breaking away and shutting down.

A lot happened there, and in El Centro, too. So much bigotry, hatred, abuse, harm. Never from my Dad. He was a good Christian, one of a small number I have known. Or my Mom. But there was cruelty and corruption lurking beneath the sanctimonious surface.

I stopped myself from writing that review. I told myself, "it's not the 90s any more. It isn't the same people."

I went to the church website for St Mark's. It says:

"ALL ARE WELCOME

St. Mark United Methodist Church embraces diversity and seeks to be inclusive.

We affirm that all persons are individuals of sacred worth. Our welcome knows no boundaries of age, race, ethnicity, culture, gender, sexual orientation or gender identification, economic condition, family status, ability or disability. We embrace and seek to preserve the beautiful, amazing diversity of God's creation.

We recognize that there are differences among us, but believe that we can love alike even though we may not think alike. We proclaim this statement of welcome to all, but especially to those who have known the pain of exclusion or discrimination in the church and society.

We invite all people to join us in our faith journey toward greater love, understanding, and mutual respect. "

I started to cry. It was a good thing to see, but I also felt so much grief, so much anger. I was filled with this outrage. How dare they. How DARE they say these things NOW, while sweeping under the rug all the harm that was done before? Why is there no apology for that? No answer to that? Why do they not speak to it, and pretend it never was?

And why couldn't it have been like that for me, when I was there?

I feel no draw to Christianity. It is not my faith, not my path. I don't think it would have been even in an inclusive church. I was called by my gods, and in them I found home.

But I feel like my pain, the way I was treated, the way other kids and teens were treated, has been erased. I want to call them and demand, "I know it wasn't you, but how can you act like all of it never happened? Where is the justice? What reparations can you offer? What is your answer to what was done?"

But the people who did it would only spew more hatred. They people who didn't, I cannot hold accountable for, because it was the actions of others.

The church, though? Maybe some day I will be able to let go of the emotional attachment to the harm that it did. Maybe writing this out will help start that process. Maybe it'll start peeling away the layers to the worse shit that happened to me in churches. But I won't ever forget, and don't ever, ever want to go back.

And I want to stand up and shout, "I am NOT a sinner, I am NOT evil, I am not WRONG or VILE or an OFFENSE to ANY god because of who I LOVE. I am NOT ASHAMED. And I will NOT be SILENCED! I'm still alive! You FAILED TO BREAK ME. I WON!"

Me: "OK Ev, you are very interested in this dom. You find him intriguing and attractive. You must bring forth the demure grace of your tea ceremony training, you must be alluring with just the right amount of coyness. Catch his eye, but let your submission shine through!"

Also Me, when encountering said dom: "AYYYYYYYYY!" *finger guns* *gives a hug and attempts a back thump, but very loudly slaps a fleshier part of his lower back instead, creating an echo across the classroom*

D: 😱 D: 😱 D:

*crawls under a log deep in the forest*

Hello, friends.

A few times in the past few years, I have received a message out of the blue from someone I have never met before. They may be listed as a local, or someone who lives on another part of the planet entirely.

Despite giving no indication that I am an escort or looking for a sugar daddy, they will pop up out of nowhere, offering to pay my rent, all my bills, and give me lots of money for shopping, because they want to be my sugar daddy. I'm disabled, and my little family often struggles with money. What a godsend of an offer, right? They even say we don't have to have sex unless I'm comfortable with it and want to.

But you see, friends, they aren't real. Now, often there is an actual person behind the scam. It's not something a bot can do- these sorts of scammers have to earn the trust of their victims, and form some sort of bond. But they ARE scammers.

With covid-19, the war, and so many economic troubles happening right now, there are many people who are absolutely desperate. People who don't know how they will eat this month, or have heat during snow storms, or even be able to remain housed at all. Desperation leaves people grasping at straws, and more willing to overlook red flags, because they need a lifeline so badly.

Hope is a cruel weapon, and these motherfuckers wield it SO well.

Oh, they love what they see of you. You're exactly their type. They want to treasure you, cherish you, spoil you. They want to make all your financial problems go away. They offer you $5k a month, plus travel and all kinds of perks, on top of paying your bills and rent.

Then one of a few things happens:

1. The most obvious. They need your help paying some sort of transaction fees for the money to go through. Wait, what? But they're the wealthy person wanting to send YOU money, why do they need you to send them something to make it work? Nope. Scammer. Don't fall for it. They will take that money and run.

2. They will deposit money to your bank account. Wowee, look at that! There's money in your account! It must be legit, right?
NO. Do not immediately trust that this is so. They use stolen credit card money. It WILL be taken back out of your account when the person/company it was stolen from catches up and contacts their card company. Go to 5.

3. They will send you a check or money order. You will deposit it in your account, and have some money available before it clears. Don't spend that money. Wait. If it is a scammer, the check will bounce. The money order will turn out to be fake. Go to 5.

5. They will suddenly want you to spend a smaller amount of that exorbitant amount of money they send you. Surely you can afford that now, right? Nope. They will frame it, perhaps, as a test of "loyalty." They will want you to prove your "loyalty" or "affection" by spending money on them. They may say they have a relative they want a gift spent to, and ask your help with it. They will tell you they temporarily overspent, or lost their wallet or something, and will totally be wealthy again very Soon(tm) but in the meantime, please send some money back to them? Probably in the form of a gift card, which is easy to trace.

6. Whoops, you sent them money or gift cards, and then the check bounces, or the stolen credit card money is removed from your account, and on top of that, you are also charged for whatever money you spent on them. You're not getting that back. You've been scammed. They have your money now.

Please be careful, my loves! These scammers are becoming more and more prominent on the internet. They may be located anywhere in the world- Russia, India, Nigeria, Ghana, Florida, or any number of other places. Anywhere. They are very difficult to track. Their numbers are legion. Some work alone, and some work for vast criminal networks of scammers and money launderers. They will use guilt, threats, emotional blackmail, and even threats of outing you or harming your loved ones to try to extort more money from you.

Your best bet is always meeting people who are local members of your kink community, who have been vetted, and whom you can check the reputation of. People who are known, or who can provide references from people who are known- and be sure to check with those people in a confidential conversation. Take your time getting to know anybody. Protect yourself.

And remember, if it's too good to be true? It probably is. Anyone who gets angry about you checking references or asking to vet them through others confidentially is not someone you want to tangle with. If they have no one in the community who is willing to speak well of them in a space where they know it won't get back to the person? Ask yourself why. If that person won't let you have a confidential conversation with anyone about them, ask yourself why? What threat of reprisal are they holding over someone's head?

But, I digress. These scammers are almost never actually members of our community. They are predators. Parasites. They might learn how to talk the talk, but they are not a part of our family. They are here to steal from us and hurt us. If you see these clear behavior patterns-

*a stranger nobody knows,
*who doesn't have any meaningful interactions with people online, either, just "following" a ton of random people all over the world,
*popping up out of the blue,
*offering you a ton of money without even knowing you,
*or getting to know you and then offering a ton of money-
*pressuring you really hard to then spend some of that money ON them in some way-

Report the conversation to the moderators of the site that you are on, so that they may investigate it properly. If it is happening in discord, report the behavior to the discord moderators.

Let's watch out for one another and keep our communities safe.

I got reported for explaining why it is a good idea to get the vaccine and continue to follow pandemic spread-preventing protocols? 
Heavens forbid safety is encouraged in our community, I guess! 

"But why bother getting vaccinated if nothing changes? If we have to wear masks and have lockdowns and stuff?"

I tried to explain it to my partner, and he got it, but said it was "too complicated" for most people, heh. He said "people are asking, why bother getting the vaccine if nothing changes?" I said "things WILL change, but it's like dungeons and dragons... let's say you have a 100-sided die, right? Rolling 50-100 gets you infected. Below or above that, and you're fine. If you are vaccinated, you get +95 to your roll, so you're only at risk if you somehow roll 1 through 5. Way better odds, right? But it doesn't stop there. See, ever single person who gets infected has to roll another die. If they roll 1-5, a mutation develops in their body, and this mutation is one that the vaccine isn't effective against, so that +95 to the roll is gone, and all the protection against symptoms is, too. I am not giving accurate numbers, but explaining how probability works in this situation."

Basically, TLDR, people with the vaccine are way less likely to get sick and to be carriers, but with a majority of the population still unvaccinated, even vaccinated people are at risk, because there are so many potential carriers still, so there's still a high potential for mutations that the vaccine cannot fight.
That's why we are still being asked to follow pandemic protocols. We who are fully vaccinated ARE much safer- for now, but that could change before we know it, so we need to stay the course until we achieve herd immunity through vaccination.

As for the people who say "it's my personal choice," remember that your choice doesn't just affect you- you can spread the disease, even when it is asymptomatic, to other people, who can then die or be permanently damaged. That is something YOU are responsible for doing- their blood is on your hands.

Hello friends,

In my area, it looks like, out of all demographics, the 20-29 year old age range are the most likely people to be carriers. Not the most likely to die from it, but that does happen, still, along with other serious consequences, some permanent. But it doesn't stop people from SPREADING it to those who ARE much more likely to die or suffer badly from it.

People of ANY age, ANY gender, ANY ethnicity, and ANY blood type can be carriers, even when asymptomatic. So, while one group is a little more likely, there's no magical group that can't be a carrier. The numbers are better here in CNY, but still not as good as they were before October. Nation-wide, Covid-19 is still often the leading cause of death, day-to-day, over heart disease and cancer, even.

Please, friends, be careful, and vaccinate as soon as you can. We will only beat this and get back to something resembling normal when we are all responsible citizens and do our part. Think of it as SSC.

1. Make it safer for everyone. Distance, mask up, wash your hands, and do what you can to minimize contact until this pandemic is no longer ravaging our communities.

2. Be sane, and listen to medical experts. Consider the likelihood that the consensus of a vast, vast, VAST majority of medical experts across the globe who have made the understanding of diseases their life's work carries more weight than a few outliers, or that conspiracy theory you saw on social media, which often has a political agenda behind it. The virus doesn't give a fuck about your political beliefs, or whether or not you want to stick it to the other team. Apply critical thinking. I know this whole thing is scary and overwhelming. I know it's causing a lot of suffering, and the things we have to do to get through it are causing suffering. I know we're all sick of it- but none of this makes the reality of the virus go away. None of this, including choosing to just not believe in it, makes it not real.

3. And consider that the people who also have to do things like get food and pay rent do not consent to being given this disease by you. "It's my personal choice" only holds water when you are the only person who suffers the consequences of your choice. If you decide to cut off your own leg, well, that's pretty crazy, but that's a choice you are making about your own body. If you go around cutting off other people's legs, it is other people who are suffering. If you choose to not vaccinate, not mask up, not isolate, and not distance, you have a really good chance of not just getting sick yourself, but also getting a lot of other people sick, and killed. Not being able to physically see the immediate consequences of your actions (or inactions) doesn't make your responsibility for them any less real. People are still going to die because of what you did, so it isn't just about your freedom any more. Being a part of a society comes with responsibilities. Being a part of a community comes with responsibilities. Even small children have to learn this.

There is a light at the end of the tunnel, for some of us, at least. Let's move towards it together, instead of dragging each other back down into the dark. Will you stand with me? Will you do right by your community? Will you be a person who can be trusted to be safe? We can do this, together.

Back in the early 1990s, my mom delivered meals to AIDS patients who were too sick to go out much any more. It was always considered fatal back then, and there was so much stigma attached to it that people often ended up becoming outcast pariahs because of it. I remember going with her once to visit a guy whose birthday it was. He was alone, crying, and drunk. No one had even called to wish him a happy birthday. He'd been completely abandoned. My mom and I were the only people who came to see him. We hugged him and hung out for a while after giving him food.

We got a couple blocks away before mom pulled over and started sobbing. I held her while she cried. I was maybe 15 or 16. I felt really old right then, and I was both right and wrong about that. Mom had to have been younger than I am now. I wish I could go back in time and talk to her as the person I am now. We could have learned a lot from each other.

Back then, you also saw a lot of people in denial. Willfully ignorant people who wanted to have their fun and not worry. AIDS was a big, scary spectre, so they pretended it wasn't a threat to them. "That's a gay disease. I can't get it." "Oh, I can tell she doesn't have it by looking at her." "I'm young and healthy. It won't happen to me, and I won't get anybody I care about sick."

A lot of folks in my community back in SF lived through the AIDS pandemic, and buried a lot of loved ones. We're watching people have that same goddamned attitude. "It won't happen to me. The deaths are fake numbers. I'm young and healthy. I do what I want. It's a conspiracy- it isn't real. They just want to control you."

We are burying friends and loved ones, again. Humanity never seems to learn, as a species.

But me? I'm watching who is being reckless, who is going out and getting people sick when they should know better, when they CHOOSE not to. I'm watching, and I'm going to remember. I will never trust you. Never.