Online now
Online now

Something Catchy and Clever...

A look inside my mind.
The thoughts.
The ramblings.
My journey to myself.
6 days ago. Apr 16, 2021, 12:59 AM

Thanks TKP for the challenge!

Sooo….here goes the Feisty edition...

1: My favourite childhood toy—

I loved Polly Pockets...the original little plastic sets that looked like makeup compacts, with the tiny figures that only bent half. I also loved Trolls, play doh, clay, crayons. I was a very artistic child, I would go through a coloring book a day if my mother would allow me to. I painted flowers and fairies on my bedroom walls (definitely without permission) after my aunt let me paint her bedroom walls with her when I was seven. So art supplies. And books count as childhood toys? I didn’t play with things much. I read, created art, and imagined plays basically with imaginary friends. I didn’t much play with toys, even though I had many...

2: My favorite album—

For me, as a child, it was certain songs. I actually still prefer individual songs over albums, I don’t think I have a favorite album as an adult and I know I didn’t have one as a child haha. Sooo songs:

Lovecats by The Cure

Lullaby by The Cure

Killer Queen by Queen

Magic Dance (from Labyrinth) by David Bowie

Every Rose Has It’s Thorns by Poison

Rebel, Rebel by David Bowie

Rhiannon by Stevie Nicks

People Are Strange by the Doors

Enter Sandman by Metallica

Hit Me Baby One More Time by Britney Spears (I’m mildly embarrassed by how into this song I can still get 🤣)

….these are just the songs I remember blasting loudly when I was really young. I hit my teenage years and then everything was emo/indie/metal/punk. And now, I listen to practically everything...


3: Favourite childhood TV show—

I loved Ahhh! Real Monsters, Rugrats, Angry Beavers, CatDog, The Munsters, The Addams Family, and Sabrina the Teenage Witch...

4: First film at the cinema—

I don’t remember this, but apparently it was The Lion King when I was 4. The first movie I really remember going to see, was most definitely not my first movie but the most poignant for me I suppose, was The Fellowship of The Ring. I didn’t have (and still don’t) a great relationship with my father, but Tolkien was the only author my dad ever read and loved. So we went to the premiere showing of it at midnight. Just my dad and I. Which made it very memorable, because we never spent time together…

5: First crush Celebrity and Personal—

My first celebrity crush was Alan Rickman as the Sheriff of Nottingham or David Bowie in Labyrinth. Personal was a kid named Ian in third grade...he taught me how to play chess and told me how awesome my checkered leggings were...

6: Favourite animal—

Cats. All cats. House cats, lions, tigers, panthers, jaguars, leopards, cheetahs, pumas...allll cats. And also unicorns. 

7: Favourite film—

I would become obsessed with movies when I was young, only watching that one movie on repeat until I got tired of it and picked something new to obsess with. (I honestly still do this...I’ve learned it’s kind of an anxiety soothing thing.) 

So...Aristocats, Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, The Last Unicorn, Lion King, Nightmare Before Christmas, Edward Scissorhands, alllll the Batman movies, The Lord of the Rings trilogy, Star Wars, Practical Magic, Hocus Pocus, Labyrinth, My Fair Lady, Casablanca, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, Mansfield Park, Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility...and then I discovered classic horror and binged as many of those as I could find. But Nosferatu will always hold a special place in my heart because it was my introduction to old horror...

8: First kiss (who and where)—

My first kiss was from that same boy named Ian that taught me how to play chess in third grade, on the swings during recess one day. Right before school ended for the year. Only because he was moving across the country. I still thought boys were sort of gross, so it wasn’t nearly magical or anything, and I remember blushing and telling him not to do that again because it was kind of icky. 

My first wanted, I was definitely interested in kissing, kiss was from a boy that had been crushing on me for a couple of years when I was 14. He had walked me home after play practice because his grandmother lived next door to me. I stood on my tiptoes and went to kiss his cheek, he surprised me and kissed my lips instead. We “dated” for two whole weeks afterwards, until I broke up with him when I realized he liked me far, far, far more than I liked him. And that kissing him felt similar to kissing a family member. No spark. The same boy remained a friend and also took me to my senior prom after I escaped a two-year, incredibly abusive relationship. He was a sweet guy, a good friend, and not at all meant for me...

9: First real contact with the Kink world—

I’ve been interested in kink since I first watched Secretary when I was 16. At that time of my life I was in a dark place and that movie seemed to see me and spark something inside of me, and answer things I didn’t know how to put words to at the time. But it wasn’t until I was about 21 that I actually felt brave enough to voice what I was thinking, feeling, wanting, needing to my husband. From that point on, with a lot of encouragement from my husband, I dove right in. And I haven’t looked back...vanilla just...doesn’t work for me now...

10: Only one person to be left on a Island with for a year, without any technology—

I don’t know that I could pick just one person...I also want to know what type of island, is this island fully stocked and ready for humans to live on it comfortably for a year, is there premade shelter? Should I be thinking practically and pick the person I know that would keep me alive on an island with no amenities for a year? Or is it basically a resort with no other people and the no technology rule is meant to bring us closer together? My answer would vary based on the details haha…

2 weeks ago. Apr 8, 2021, 5:32 AM

I have literally no idea how to make friends. At all. But....I’m starting to think that I probably need to make an effort to actually make friends. 

Not simply acquaintances. 
Not people who use me to make themselves feel better. 
Not people who only want to speak to me when they need something. 

Actual friends. 

Someone who will be there for me and that I can be there for, without the expectation of something in return. Just friendship. 

I’m very good at being the quiet, unobtrusive girl in the corner. The one petting the cat or the dog, pretending that I’m not silently screaming over the social interaction I’ve been forced to participate in. The one that avoids almost all conversations with people I don’t know very, very, very, very well. That awkward girl who has never really had a good relationship with a friend.

I have a very hard time, have always had a very hard time, making and keeping friends. I’m not great at maintaining friendships. I’m not great at knowing what to say or when to say it. I don’t easily “click” with many. And those I do click easily with, tend to be the ones that then use me to watch their kids constantly so they can “live their lives”, the ones that use me as a constant therapist without offering a listening ear ever, the ones that give me sob story after sob story about their horrible lives or their poverty level and let me give more than I really have to give.

I let myself be used by most of the people I know—and not in the fun and kinky, tie me up and use my body for your enjoyment type of using. The self esteem damaging type of using. The kind that to heal from you cut everyone out of your life and hope to start over. 

I exorcised my users, the people that pegged me as easy prey who gives more than she should to the people she loves. I’ve been without anyone other than my husband and children, (and fluff demon cat), for over a year now.

No one I’m close to.

No one I can talk to. 

....and I’ve come to the realization that I need that. I need someone to be able to talk to. 

I need an actual friend.


2 weeks ago. Apr 6, 2021, 5:59 AM

Post minions’ bedtime, I’m left sitting on my couch alone. Which is my norm. Housework done, anything productive I could do today...I’ve already accomplished. Left with my thoughts. 

Just me, myself, my insecurities, my anxiety, my depression, my wants, my unending thoughts, and I. 

The lonely thing is getting to me ferociously and violently this week. I should be used to it by now. It’s been three years of parenting solo during the week and only seeing my husband on weekends. But I’m not. I’m lonely. And tired. Many years of needing a Dom and being unable to find one that meshes with me, and my life. 

Tired of having the entirety of parenting resting solely on my shoulders.

Tired of a sometimes spouse. 

Tired of a husband who doesn’t have much of a sex drive, and thus doesn’t touch me unless I beg. 

Tired of knowing what I want and being unable to find it. 

Tired of child attitudes, housework, bills. 

Tired of needing to submit and needing to be dominated without a way to have those needs met. 

Tired of having to look for what I want. 

Tired of “dating”.

Tired of myself, if I’m being honest. 

Tired of so many things. 

Sometimes just running away seems vastly more appealing that the constant empty ache inside of me. Knowing what will soothe the ache, fill the emptiness, left with solely myself instead. So then I sit and think...endlessly. Doubt and worry and hopelessness. Maybe what I want is too far-fetched of an idea. If I could eliminate the need for emotional connection prior to submitting, if I could eliminate the need to submit, if I could just not be so uncomfortably awkward when speaking to potentials, if I could somehow modify my wants into something easier for my husband to find appealing, if I could just focus on the good things in my life instead of needling the painful parts, if if if if many ifs. So many things I could possibly do to “fix” the portions I feel need fixed. But none of the possibilities really appeal, and so...I’m stuck. 

Lonely and exhausted.

And just needing a place to vent...even though I’m sure I’ll read this later on and berate myself for throwing a pity party. 

Back to my thoughts and my (seemingly) endless search, and hopes of being hunted and collared. Finally fulfilled. 

Maybe tomorrow will be a less lonely day, maybe my thoughts and anxiety will ease up on me a little. 

3 weeks ago. Mar 26, 2021, 8:01 PM

The amount of support, advice, and help on here has me almost in tears. Seriously. Thank everyone so very much! I can’t explain just how much I needed to not feel like I was being crazy or I wasn’t maybe overreacting because my anxiety had twisted something minor into something major. Because of my anxiety, it is sometimes difficult to trust my initial feelings on something. 

But the simple truth is: he scared me. He still does. He scared my husband as well. And we are taking this very seriously. 

Numbers have been changed. 

We talked to the authorities, but since I deleted the multiple times of contact, there isn’t anything they could do. Now I’m beating myself up over it, because I should have been smarter. But I didn’t want a reminder of him on my phone in any way at the in reaction, I deleted texts. We were informed that if he manages to contact us again, we’re to keep record of absolutely everything and to notify the police. Luckily he doesn’t know what city we live in, just the state. And he doesn’t know last names. But...I’m not naive enough to think that that wouldn’t keep a truly determined person from finding us. Same with the phone number changes. 

I feel a little better knowing there’s at least a record of us speaking to the police about it. That if he manages to find us or harass us again, hopefully something will be able to be done. 

Just wanted to give y’all an update and thank everyone for offering advice and support. I appreciate it more than I can explain 💖

4 weeks ago. Mar 24, 2021, 9:20 PM

I feel safe posting this here because he’s not on here, and I’m hoping that maybe some insight from people outside of the situation might be helpful. I don’t have anywhere else I can share this.

I feel like I might be the object of someone’s in a “I watch too much true crime so I may be paranoid, however the red flags are certainly do I escape him” sort of way. 

Long story: my husband and I are looking for a second man/Dom to add to our marriage. We’re poly, we know what we’re looking for, we’ve been looking for a while. We met a man on Fet in January. The three of us talked for a couple of days, everything seemed to be going pretty well. Then he hits me with the “L” word. And….nope. Just no. You barely know me, how could you possibly love me? So I start getting nervous, start picking over a lot of the things that he’s said. Notice little things that didn’t immediately stand out to me as worrisome, but that now do for sure. 

Like how he doesn’t really care about my feelings about things, his would be the only ones that mattered. How he really just wants my family and me, trying to push my husband to the side—even though we’ve expressed very clearly that we don’t want a hierarchical relationship and that I’d be happy to show attention to both men in my life equally. And that my husband will always be entitled to me and my time as well. Like how I’m the only thing he’s ever wanted in his entire life, and he doesn’t even know really anything about me. Making comments that make my skin crawl about my body and face.

I start getting very uncomfortable, say as much. Try to pull back. I ask for a day to myself because my anxiety is wearing on me. I want to be left alone. 

This so-called Daddy flips the fuck out on me. I’m talking fourteen calls that I silenced, multiple berating voice mails, multiple texts telling me that I’m a walking red-flag and a heartless bitch. That I’m not ready for this intense of a relationship. When, in reality, I’d told him that I wouldn’t call him Daddy until I felt we were at the stage that I wanted to submit to him and that I wouldn’t say that I loved him unless I absolutely meant it. Then asked for a day to myself because I was having a rough emotional day. 

Mind you...I’m thirty, my husband is thirty-seven, and this man is fifty-two. Soooo….for some reason I anticipated some level of maturity and less drama.

Silly me. 

Anyway, I tell him I’m no longer interested in trying to continue the relationship. That I’m not okay being treated like a walking trash heap. That he barely knows me and what it’s sounding like he desires isn’t anything I can give him. Block his number. Block him on Fet. Cry to my husband because I felt very much emotionally beaten up. 

My husband then receives multiple texts telling him what a horrible person I am. Making comments about needing to get me in line and control me. Saying that he doesn’t at all mind belittling me, fighting with me, yelling at me in front of my children. A litany of pretty hurtful, awful things. My husband basically tells him to go away. 

We think that’s the end of that. 


He waits about two weeks, now it’s almost Valentine’s Day, and then sends a text to my phone from a different phone number. Apologizing profusely for acting the way he had. My husband calls to tell me that the other man has called him and would like him to talk me into talking with him again, my husband tells me that it’s totally up to me. That he’s still not okay with the previous behavior but that maybe it was a fluke. Benefit of the doubt. 

I roll my eyes and message back. Again, feeling like I barely know this man and not at all understanding why he needs to talk with me so badly. And sort of angry that he was so hurtful to someone he didn’t really know. So I’m not nice. I explain, in detail, horrible things from my past that have made me have to be strong. Explain why I will never be anyone’s doormat. Explain why I’d never let anything argumentative happen around my children, never let them see me be treated in a way that was any less than loved and cherished. 

And he freaks out on me again. 

So I block his other number. 

Another two weeks...another phone call to my husband, this time begging him to get me to reconsider. Another text from a new phone number. Long, pretty, blah blah blah. I roll my eyes and ask why he can’t just leave me alone. He acts like we’ve talked for a year and are madly in love. Like he’s owned me. Like he still does. He begs for one last chance. 

I don’t even like this man now. I’m not attracted to him anymore. I’d never let him own me. I won’t ever let him around my children. The idea of him touching me makes me want to vomit.’s a definite no from me. 

But, because I try to be a nice person, I tell him that I can’t forget the hateful things said. That I can’t get over it, as opposed to saying what I really wanted to say. Which was along the lines of “nope, you piss me off and the idea of being around you makes me nauseous, let alone the idea of actually letting you touch me, get thee fine”. Only probably with a lot of expletives and more venom. 

End of that, right?

It should have been. But nope. I had some blissful weeks of pretending he didn’t exist. And then bam. Last Friday. New number. New text. This time he didn’t even bother talking to my husband until I didn’t answer him. Then he calls my husband to tell him that he wants to be the primary, with my husband on the side, and that he’ll take care of all of us forever because he knows we’re meant to be. (Oh yes...I forgot, he also claims to be a millionaire but we all know how likely that is to be true on the internet.) 

I ask him why the hell he seems to think this time would be any different because I’m not even remotely what he wants from a woman, personality-wise. Ask why I should change my mind. Tell him that my husband isn’t ever going to be pushed out of the picture. That I don’t think I’d ever be able to get over it. That he needs to move on. Hoping he’ll take the hint because I’m so tired of this guy. 

And again. Many texts, some freaking out on me, some telling me how I should behave, some telling me that I should be grateful for him and his attention. That he wants the beautiful little he first met—and I’m not a little, I’ve never presented myself as one...I’m really open and honest with what I fit kinkwise—back, that he wants to build a life with me and my children. That he loves me so much and his feelings will never change. Making comments about pictures I’ve posted on Fet that he didn’t approve of because he owns my body…and I have the account I know of blocked on there. Soo he had to have made a different one to look at my pics and keep track of me.

I feel like he’s maybe crazy. Seriously. I want him to leave me alone. I’ve said that I want him to leave me alone. 

There were three or four days in which there was a beginning of something. That’s it. The rest of it has all been in his head. Not reciprocated. I have not led him on at all. I’ve told him I am not interested. I have told him to go find what he’s looking for, that it isn’t me. I feel like he’s fixated on me. It makes me nervous and so uncomfortable. I’ve blocked his number again. So has my husband. But it doesn’t feel like I’m going to ever be fully rid of him. 

I just want to live my life. So...outsider views would be appreciated. 

Help? Please?

1 month ago. Mar 17, 2021, 7:56 PM

I will keep you at arm’s length. I won’t let you in all the way. Not until I’m pretty sure there’s a connection. A spark. A click. A bit of magic. Something there. Something more than just a tiny bit of interest. More than a desire for my body. I won’t let myself devote all of my time, energy, effort, hope, heart, mind, soul to you. Not without reason. Not without a very good reason. Not without some effort from you. Some proof that my energies and efforts will not be wasted. 

I delve too deep. Too quickly. I attach. I have given all of myself to the wrong person, too many times. I’ve been bitten in the ass—not in a fun way—too many times. I’ve watched all of my efforts be smashed into pointlessness. I’ve felt my heart ripped into pieces because I was merely a placeholder until someone better came along. 

I won’t make that mistake again. 


I have to protect myself. I’ve been too vulnerable, too open, too giving too many times. Too many people have proven just how undeserving they were of my everything. And a removed distance I will remain. Until someone proves they are worth my energy and time. Until they can break the barriers I’ve carefully arranged around my more vulnerable areas. Until someone is worthy of everything I can give. 

Which also no way will I pursue you. I will not give chase. I will not push my way into your life. I will not badger or pester you. I will not coerce you into communication. I won’t. 

Simply put, I am not wired that way. 

I want to be pursued. I want to be wanted. I want to be worth the effort. It doesn’t matter if you tick every single one of my boxes, I will not chase you. It doesn’t matter if I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything. It doesn’t matter if you truly are the missing piece to my heart, to my family. I will not pursue you. I’ve learned my lesson over the years. I’m not a magnificent hunter...and the scars I wear from the encounters are reminders to never give chase again. 

So...if there’s genuine interest in me (and not just what I could possibly give you)...

Pursue me. Chase me. Make me see that my efforts and energy and soul will not be wasted on you. I am fantastic prey, even if I put up a fight once I’m caught. 

Maybe that sounds conceited. Like I think I’m this wonderfully magnificent prize to be sought after. Which…if you knew me at’d know was not really the case. My self esteem has taken too many bruisings, beatings, mutilations to really think I’m magnificent. I’m trying to work myself to a place where I find myself at least worthy of more than being entertainment for when you’re bored or lonely. I just know that I have something beautiful inside of me for the right person, I know it’s worth everything to that person. And I know that time is the most valuable thing, you never get the time you’ve wasted back.

Mostly I’m just tired of wasting my time. Especially when I put so much of myself into that time waste. When I give myself so fully that I come back from the encounter tattered and frayed. I’m tired of being emotionally exhausted. 

I’m tired of feeling like every communication is pointless. 

But...I’m stubborn to an actual fault. So...the desire is still present. That need for something magical and deep. Someone that actually ticks the boxes, someone that meshes with me. That understands I’m going on my own journey. Someone that doesn’t need to tame me. Someone that can find that lovely, fathomless part of me, that can unlock that drive to submit to them and then alone. Someone that wants to put in the effort and time to do that. 

So I a way...I am hunting for that. I’ll let my primal side out...let the wildling free to search for him. Hoping he catches her scent and decides to chase her down, hoping that he hunts her and captures her. Hoping that just once my heart doesn’t return to me in crumbling bits. Hoping that I can let him in completely and that what we find there is dark, deep, blissful, magical. That the efforts and energies will be worth it. 


Hoping to be hunted. 

1 month ago. Mar 12, 2021, 6:00 AM

I feel like I’ve been on this constant search to find myself. To find where I “fit”. To find the label so I can slap it on myself like a pretty sticker to proudly show the world that I know exactly who I am. That need to find me, to figure myself out finally, has always been there. I’m realizing now that it probably always will be. Because, and here’s the thing I struggle with the absolute most, people change.

They evolve. 

They grow. 

They may start out as someone you understand and know...only to find out a few years later that you maybe never knew them all that well at all. Simply because they’ve changed the way they think or have changed ideals or have changed interests. Everyone changes as they grow. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. It is inevitable. 

And I find it absolutely terrifying. 

Because that desire to want to know who I am will always be there. It will always be a search through the evolution of me to find myself. 

The idea is absolutely exhausting. 

I think through even the last six months of my life. Think through the changes in my life, the changes in my children, the changes in my husband and in myself. Mostly the changes within myself. The changes in desires and wants. The changes in dynamic between my husband and I. The vanilla changes. The not-so-vanilla changes. So many of them. Constantly shifting. Everything always changing. Everyone around me growing and evolving.  And today I feel overwhelmed by it. Completely overwhelmed. Like I cannot breathe, everything feels chaotic and yet pointless at the same time. Because I still don’t quite know myself. 


Usually I don’t feel quite so panicked by change. I try to embrace it. To roll with whatever life brings me. But today I find that all I want to do is fight it. To go back to the me that I thought I knew so well a few months ago. Even if this “new” me is actually a mentally healthier, happier, more well rounded me. The me that I had slapped a sticker on, had perfectly labeled, had placed in this pretty box and tied up with a glittery ribbon. That me I understood. 

This me...this new wild creature...she’s a changeling. Something almost alien. So much inside of me has deviated from the knowable me. I’m discovering little bits and pieces that I had never even remotely thought would exist. And yet they now make up parts of my whole. I’ve never experienced the rapid evolution of my person in such a short amount of time. I think that’s why I want so badly to fight this new me...this her that hadn’t existed just a few, a very few, months back.

But I don’t know that I’ll ever fully figure her out. I have to admit that the bravest parts of me find that inability to label myself as anything other than me beautiful and wonderful. The anxious, rational, organized parts are all screaming in unison. Angry that a pretty label with a lovely bow on top won’t ever be feasible. 

I’m hopeful that this means I’m becoming more myself. As opposed to the person I had thought I was supposed to be. When I first embraced the kinkier side of myself, delved head first into discovering what parts of bdsm interested me most, sifted through the terms and labels, I was struck with—what I saw—as the enormity of everything encompassed. I loved how everyone could be exactly who they were, there could be multitudes of pieces that made up the whole of the puzzle. And yet, even though I’d found the world I fit into and found that I could be exactly what I wanted to be in that world, I still needed to shove myself into a box. No one else told me who to be or where to fit. I did that to myself. 

Now I’m discovering this neglected, wild creature that has lived inside of me all this time, begging for release. Begging to be allowed to want all of the things I’ve always wanted and have been afraid of. Begging me to see all of the bits that make me a whole. 

So now I’m trying. Trying not to fight the changes and evolution. Trying to squash the need to label myself. I’m going to let the feral, catlike wildling control things for a little while. To let this new her become me. 

I’m terrified of her. 

I’m excited to be her. 

I’m growing to love her. 

I’m accepting of her. 

I am her...or I will be, when I stop fighting it so much.