Scribbles

I meant to post this last week.
But in lieu of anything actually interesting today:

100% Dominant
100% Sadist
100% Master/Mistress
100% Degrader
100% Rigger
95% Owner
94% Daddy/Mommy
89% Voyeur
79% Brat tamer
77% Non-monogamist
75% Experimentalist
32% Primal (Hunter)
16% Vanilla
12% Exhibitionist
0% Ageplayer
0% Brat
0% Pet
0% Primal (Prey)
0% Masochist
0% Rope bunny
0% Boy/Girl
0% Slave
0% Submissive
0% Switch
0% Degradee

A couple interesting changes:
Daddy went down a little.
Non-monogamist went up a little.
Hmmm..

Nope, sorry, my mistake. I should have said -

Laying in bed for two hours reading blogs instead a taking a nap time (yawwwn)

Statements like that tend to put me in a nibbling mood.

I have never before used the term "nibbling mood" but now that I have I believe it has demonstrated it's potential to enter my everyday dialog regarding tits in general, and nipples in particular.

To seek out new tits, and new nipple-izations.
Too boobly go where no mammary has gone before...

I shouldn't make light. I don't want to offend anyone, especially nipples, as they are very sensitive.

A bit out of context, thematically speaking, but it's the sentiment that counts.

That thing that sometimes happens when you are chatting with a few people at the same time -

And you're totally wet for one.

And you are comfortably satisfied with being a more or less casual fan of the second.

And you are being covertly stalked by impending flaccidity for the third.

- and you inadvertently send each one a message that was meant for one of the others!

My professional advice: don't do that!

I have been doing a little pre-2021 cagecleaning, glancing through old messages, and decided it would be quicker to blog Happy New Year to all my people! than to message everyone separately.

That's what this is.

So... yeah

I am frequently asked for advice about how one might move away from a life of debauchery and sin to a simpler, happier existence consisting only of chanting, grooming one's inner downward-facing dog, and burning gluten-free kale incense.

Now, I know I'm not the hardest nipple on the tit (if you take my meaning) but I don't like to disappoint my fans by telling them the truth - "You're asking the wrong guy. I don't know. I was sick the day they taught stupid question class. And anyway I have never dared attempt to unravel that nagging little mystery, primarily because I don't give a fuck about gluten."

I couldn't do that to them. It would break their hearts.
So, in lieu of the truth, I tell them this:

---

How might one make such a drastic life change? Well, when I was a kid...

(I'm allowed to say that because to a man of my age, maturity, intelligence, and palpable sex appeal, everyone under 35 is a damn kid.)

As I was saying, when I was a kid I did plenty of things that were pretty stupid.
Or, at the very least, they were highly unlikely not to have been stupid.
And they were probably generously, embarrassingly stupid.

Actually, due to the nature of those behaviors I can't be at all certain about the extent to which they were stupid, and in fact it could be argued that I was effectively absent during most of them. I just can't remember anymore. But I feel comfortable beginning at "poor decision making" ballparking somewhere near "where is the nearest ATM/late night burger joint" and rounding up to "why did I come into this room?"

Ah, those were the days. Young and stupid.
But as the years continued to pass, the memories started to dim.

Then one day I woke up in a makeshift tent under the highway, covered in my own vomit (at least I assumed it was mine. To quote Nigel Tufnel of Spinal Tap, "You cant really dust for vomit") wearing a stranger's soiled delicates, and sporting a painfully fresh tramp-stamp on my balls.

I found myself confronted by several disturbing questions: "whose unmentionables are these, how did I come to be wearing them, were they soiled before I put them on, or did I...?" and there are just no good answers to any of those.
Oh yes, and lets not forget "A tramp-stamp on my balls? On My Fucking Balls?? The ones I sex with???"

As usual I had zero recollection of the events leading up to the undergarments, and this time I was damn certain that I would prefer not to have. It is at that exact moment when I started freely distributing handjobs to all the Patron Saints of Juvenile Delinquency for giving me the strength to so thoroughly fuck my short-term memory capacity.

On the positive side the experience got me thinking that I needed to change my life. I gathered up my tent, vomit, panties, and tat-sack, and voluntarily checked myself into the nearest non-denominational Whole Foods. I dedicated my waking hours to spreading the Gospel of Quinoa, indulged only in sacramental almond milk, meditated daily about seriously considering yoga, and participated in all manner of silly hemp-related festivities.

I changed my life and my diet, and dramatically decreased my intake of stupid.

I still don't remember most of my misspent youth, and I'm only about 1/3 of the way through the process of scrotum ink removal, but how do I think one might make such a drastic life change?

Prayer and clean living.
And poor memory.
That's how.

--

(Of course, mostly none of that is actually true. But the fans keep asking so I stick with this ridiculous story because I can't seem to come up with anything better. Must be the whole soft nipple thing.)

There is no way I'm the first person to wonder.
I'm probably only the latest in a long line of people who have asked.

Earlier today I read a blog that was already a few months old but it was very interesting so I left a comment. Some well known and well respected friends did as well
I do not have the permission of the OP to put a link to it here but I will say that it was essentially about the classic dilemma: If I can't have both, would I be willing, or even able, to give up BDSM if an amazing vanilla person came along?
This is not that discussion.

But it did get me thinking. BDSM or vanilla. Kink or vanilla, Fetish or...

That last part stuck in my head, so I asked the sink (I was washing dishes at the time. Gettin' all domestic!) "sink, can vanilla be a fetish?"

Let's set aside for a moment the metaphysical dichotomy in the question "If the pleasure is in being denied, can it truly be considered denial?" and instead turn our attentions to this little head-scratcher:
Deprivation, restriction, and denial of all sorts of stuff is considered by some to be kinky - so then couldn't being disallowed from expressing your kinks be a fetish unto itself? Withholding BDSM? A sort of lifestyle chastity?

Surely wiser people than me have considered and even answered that question countless times before.
In fact I believe it was Shakespeare's Domme who said "What's in a name? That which we call a fetish by any other name would smell as sweet."

The sink never committed itself to one side of the argument or the other. I had made it through the wash, rinse, and dry phases of doing the dishes with little more than "Yeah. I suppose so. Sure." So I did what I always do with burning hot kinky weirdo fetish questions - I brought it here.

Thoughts?

(This will be a long read. Or maybe I just talk too much.)

A few days ago I met a server in a restaurant who I thought was very attractive, Like, verrrry attractive. In an admittedly shallow primate way, I momentarily wondered how she would look in a collar.
I didn't assume that she would be into that, and I certainly didn't ask. The most I could do was to wonder, but I definitely did NOT decide that she was less attractive merely because I had no way to know if she fit the collar in my imagination.
The entire affair got me thinking about...

Three Scenarios:

A. An insta-dom creeps into a blog and sees what he believes to be a potential mark sitting there reading.
He slips her a message which reads, "For no better reason than your identity, from this moment on you will address me only as 'Sir' and you will do everything I say, under penalty of punishment which I insist is properly Dom-ish!"
She responds by laughing at him, decides she has no interest in hearing anything else he has to say, blocks his next move, then moves on to read another blog.

B. A man walks into a blog and sees what he believes to be a familiar woman sitting there reading.
He says to her "Hello, I've seen you around here before and wanted to introduce myself. I assume nothing about you, nor demand anything from you. I would like for us to see what we might have in common. Let's talk a bit."
She responds "You seem nice, attractive even, and you did not automatically treat me like I was inferior. Since we only just met neither of us will expect the other to act in any stereotypical way. Yes, let's talk a bit."

Ok, now the final scenario:

C. Two people, a man (who, it turns out, is a Dom) and a woman (who, it turns out, is a sub) see each other in a blog sitting there reading. From a distance they can already sense that they have a slash in common. Ideally, neither would immediately assume that each is sure to pass easily through the other's "I like what I'm seeing. Without a doubt, after we get to know more..." filter. At that point who could know?
He says hello, they begin a conversation, exchange several pleasant words between them, and eventually decide to indeed talk a bit more, somewhere nearby where it is a little quieter.

A few days go by, some casual chatting, they have so far treated each other respectfully, and have not assumed that their newfound friendship is heading anywhere near an increasingly dynamic relationship.

- Or at least he didn't. The man/Dom recognized that only an piece of shit would make broad assumptions about how the whole thing should ultimately look. Yet, in retrospect, it seems that somehow the woman who laughed at the wanna-dom in the first scenario decided that this genuinely decent guy just didn't resemble the type of Dom that she wanted.

Uh, wait, hang on a sec. Couple questions here:

* After only a few days? Of casually chatting?
* At what point did she sign him up to audition for a lead role in her life - which according to her he already didn't pass?
* Why was she anticipating certain characteristic Dom traits from him - which he had no reason or obligation to demonstrate to her?
* What are the criteria for determining whether or not a brand new acquaintance will translate in any way to a future partner - Dom or sub - if it is never even part of the conversation?
* Is expecting him to perform in a stereotypical manner simply because of his identity really so far removed from scenario A - but in reverse?
* Was it secretly decided that an insta-dom was unquestionably an asshole - but an insta-sub was acceptable?

If we don't like each other as people, oh well.
If we don't like each other in a dynamic, oh well.
But we should never stampede to the conclusion that one's public face will exactly echo what their inner voice sounds like.

(By the way, a different server, collar or no, might not have recommended the fajitas. Good thing I made no such false assumptions about her - because the food was delicious!)

Not everyone remembers their dreams.

Researchers say that most people dream 3-5 times every night. They go on to say that the average person (whatever that means) remembers about 50% of their dreams, 95% of which are already forgotten by the time the dreaming person has gotten out of bed and set their mind on other matters. And they define nightmares as not necessarily scary or sad like in the movies, rather anything that wakes you up from a sound sleep.

I wouldn't know. As far as I recall I've never had a movie nightmare.

Both psychologists and sleep scientists are divided as to whether or not dreams "mean" anything. Even sex dreams can be about lots of things: intimacy, a desire to be desired, unresolved emotions, plain ol' fucking, and many other things. Including, not surprisingly, power exchange.

Those same experts are never too far away from prominently placed frames containing bright white paper covered in proud, swirling calligraphy which, roughly translated means:
"To whom it may concern - I know more about this shit than you do."
I'm sure they do. Still, I tend to find myself somewhere in the middle of the argument. Some dreams may mean nothing specific - but the repeating ones might.

I think this because of all the vivid Dom dreams that I've had repeatedly over the past couple years. And there have been a lot of them.
I am certain that I'm not unique in this, I suspect that every side of every slash has them, or ones like them.
In my case, they don't wake me, are generally very satisfying, they are not themselves sources of any frustration.
Nonetheless, they linger and so they are bothersome when I am awake.

They go something like this...

I'm surrounded by subs. No one in particular, no recognizable faces, random in every respect. Nothing to distinguish any one from any other except that they all meet the criteria of being subs/slaves, and being mine.
Then ensues a scene in which I become Super Dom! and proceed to act out of all the dominant, sadistic, degrading, fun kinky things that are me.

Everyone limps away completely exhausted, and entirely satisfied. 

The thing is, for the past couple years I have not had anyone with whom I could do those things in "real life." And this year I've been stuck inside the house most of the time anyway. I think that's why I still keep having those dreams. I did have an LDR much of this year with an absolutely, perfectly wonderful woman who suggested I find a local sub to help satisfy those unfulfilled urges. (I declined. It was a little off-putting because I had not yet begun to explore poly.) Since then I've made more good friends here, and I've met subs with compatible interests. I've even played a bit. None of which stopped the damn dreams.

And I think those dreams do in fact mean something. They could easily be explained by any of the aforementioned interpretations; power exchange and plain ol' fucking would certainly make sense. Ultimately though, I think I really just need to let the Dom out. Then maybe the dreams will happen less frequently.

The problem is that I can't right now.
And it is fucking frustrating!