So that you can pack appropriately, you should know that you are going to time travel with me. Hope you're quick, we're leaving right now. See Write a blog post is on tomorrow's To Do List. The list is nearly finished. I want to add a couple stickers to jazz it up and then it will be Ta Done, and I will be ready to navigate a Wednesday. Tomorrow I'll take a contrasting color, probably gold, I'm using a black journal currently, and start checking things off. Except maybe we're checking Write a blog post off a day early. I opt to keep a couple bags always packed, one never knows when you can squeeze in an extra workout or meet a two-headed alien at a costume party. I find I just have a better time when I feel prepared for anything.

Tomorrow I'm meeting with a life coach. I sort of love this. It is very much in-line with my manifested, bliss-following, fantasy life I live. Also, I am more than just a little scared. Can I be completely honest, my terror is growing exponentially. 

What a silly thing to be afraid of, right? Wand flick, ridiculous. What a silly, privileged, bougie thing to cause me fear, expecto patronus. 

When I say I love to be watched, to overshare, to go ahead and just get naked right here, it really should be understood that I only mean in spaces where it is safe to do so. I only mean with people who are going to meet me with kindness or perhaps respectful curiosity. While I have never met with a life coach, I am pretty certain she is going to ask me what I do for a living. Bet she'll ask me about my relationships too. Well no, I bet she'll ask if I have A Relationship, singular and with a capitol R. Then I'll get to decide, on the spot, is this person safe to say that I work in the adult industry? I'll get to calculate how apt it is that I'll find acceptance or at least graceful neutrality, if I disclose that I have several intimate partners. And if I miscalculate, are my damage control skills up-to-snuff these days? Not really living close to the bone anymore, after all I'm in a place on my journey where I can access a life coach.  

How little can I share, but still access the benefits of seeing a Life Coach?

What does guarded authenticity look like?

This isn't my first rodeo. Typically, these moments work themselves out really well. It makes a lasting impression when a jaw drop is the first piece of info you share about yourself. More often than not, a positive lasting impression.  But sometimes it doesn't go well.  Several years ago, I made my new neighbor cry when I told her I was a dominatrix. Nothing I could say would reassure her that I wasn't a victim of the patriarchy or of trafficking. It was nearly impossible to quiet my imagination that was continuously reminding me the many ways she might try to save me and my family. 

This will not go like that. Tomorrow I am going to giggle about how unjustified my worry was today. 

I Know Lots of People are Smarter than Me...

 

But I have this philosophy,
So what?

Let's shares.

Wanna hear the funny from last weekend? This picture was taken maybe an hour before this story takes place. I made a packie run. Well not really, I made a caffeine run I just wanted to use the term packie. It's been a while since I've been home. Anyway, I jetted to a local convenience store to pick up the contraband. The woman working the counter greeted me like we were down south. Big smile, bright eyes, lashes flashing, good morning can I help you find anything. 

Again, in Virginia, it would have felt normal. In New Hampshire, early on a Sunday morning, it felt suspicious.  Now I'm checking out, she's a cutie, maybe late 20s. She's still all smiles, I think she must be a transplant. Bet she's a southerner, wonder how she wound up here? The culture shock must be so jarring. She rings me up, we exchange currency and a strangely awkward moment. As I'm walking out she stammers a bit and says, I love your shirt. I said thank you and went on with my day. It was an hour later before remembered I was wearing my, I just look straight shirt. Ya know, the one I bought specifically to be an ice breaker when I'm trying to figure out how flirting with women works. 

Oh well, there will be other cute, brave kittens and I won't fail to notice the one destined to be a good match, right? 

Perhaps I should have quoted Lita Ford for our Dance, cum or meditate tune this week.

Our tea party was fucking amazing. We had some snafus, a couple major ones even. My co-hosts took it all in stride. It was so refreshing to collaborate with women with similar standards and work ethics. If needed we can be dramatic later, but right now guests are on their way, so roll up your sleeves and get this done. And also, keep it all in perspective. We're hosting a party. Our pleasure, our delight was also a top tier priority. Somehow with dozens and dozens of moving parts, it all came together and unfolded so perfectly. 

Plans for the next one have already begun. We'll be using a bigger venue, and expanding our guest list. It will still be a vetted, exclusive event but if you ask nicely and beg a little, I may be able to get you in.  

Earth Girls Are Easy (10/10) Movie CLIP - Cause I'm a Blonde (1988) HD (youtube.com)

You Can be the Side Effect...

There's an extension of the last post on my Fetlife group. It isn't, strictly speaking, a required read. Just a lowkey flex, and with it out of the way, let's dive deep. 

How did I get the rest of the magic beans to buy my pet store? I made 3 more phone calls. The first was a red light, the second and third combined loaned me all of what I needed. There were two more people on my call list if they hadn't. I was a 23-year-old college and high school drop-out, a mom and a stripper. I had a list of people apt to be willing to loan me cash to pursue my lifelong (or year long, whatever) dream of owning a reptile store. 

It would be out of line for me to share the specific thing my grandmother helped my cousin with, but it was by far less whimsical. I doubt she had a list had our grandmother not come through for her. 

We could just stop here. I could just cringe over my younger self's entitlement, and I could go back to writing about my charmed life. But the universe issued another invitation to grow, and for real I want to evolve. 

Let's probe the wet parts and cut away the necrotic tissue. 

What if my cousin was my grandmother's favorite? What if she evoked the softest part of my grandmother's heart? What if my grandmother saw something of herself in my cousin? What if they bonded deeper? What if she loved her more? 

Want to hear a ridiculous thing that caused me to seethe with jealousy? My top and one of my metamours have jobs that are loosely in the same broad field. Their jobs are literally nothing alike. Actually, let me rephrase that, they are exactly alike in the way that neither one of them work in the adult industry. One day I found myself contemplating how neither of them have to pause when asked what they do for work. They can each say, with pride, what they do without any concern of how it will be received. Then my imagination, normally a quality I consider one of my best, ran with that idea. It painted technicolor scenes for me of my top and his subbie smiling while talking shop and making friends with vanilla people. 

I love my job. Most of the time, it evokes glee when a vanilla asks what I do. I only pause for a second before leaning in and saying something like, Do I look familar? I make porn. Do you watch a lot of sissy porn? You into pegging? Or I say, I kick boys, I make them cry and they pay me for it. Sometimes, rarely, if it feels unsafe to answer truthfully, I say, I'm a consultant. Politics. I'm having such a great time, I'd prefer not to discuss work right now. 

Why would it bother me to imagine my top and his sub bonding over a shared interest?

Jealousy may very well be completely human, and totally normal. 

Have you ever heard me suggest I want a normal, human, just a regular sort of life?

What if my top likes my metamour more? What if they bond deeply, passionately, with giggles and eye crinkles over their work? What if he likes her shade of blonde better than mine? What if she loves to iron, and has never sent a screaming email in the middle of the night over a thing that only existed in her imagination? What if he loves her more? 

It is fully, 100% none of my business or concern. But if my thoughts get away from me, if they demand that I contemplate such things, I will push back. I will refuse to do anything but celebrate that my top has opportunities for companionship, for passion, for depth, and for an abundance of love. 

And if I can't shake the noise with love and high vibes, I can always go kick a boy until I feel better. 

I decided songs about jealousy were boring ..Prince is spinning, and I've worked out 3 times.

Pope (youtube.com)