Do I have to? Realisations in dating

For a long time I’ve wondered why I’ve thrown up walls and excuses for men and women that message me who seem suitable to date.

The other night I had an epiphany from talking a lot with another blogger friend in email has helped me come to some realisations myself.

I’m not ready to date.

I’m not ready to even contemplate anything romantic or heart warming. I’m still in a pretty horrible place mentally, I don’t have the energy to pursue anything because believe me I think there’s some that might be a lot of fun if I did pursue, but I can’t seem to. I think this relates back to the post I wrote about mental health and my health. The fact that after my ex broke up with earlier this year I’ve fallen into a downward spiral of distancing myself from a lot of my friends because that’s what depression does. I’ve isolated myself and I’m clawing my way back out slowly, but this will take time.

So instead of pushing myself to date, I put the brakes on it. It’s not fair on anyone I date. The fact that I wouldn’t be able to wholly commit coupled with the fact that I don’t plan on staying in Australia for more than another 4 years means dating and committing to someone is out of the question.

Because that decision is actually fair on me and it’s fair on a person that I might meet who wants more.

What I did at this point was change my profile to say I’m looking for a FWB arrangement, hence my previous post, to indicate that I would be open to men & women approaching me in regards to this type of arrangement. I was hoping that it would open the world up to those guys & gals that are in relationships so they don’t need me to invest but are happy to see me once or twice a week and be friends outside of that.

What’s wrong with this picture you say?

Well here’s the thing. Usually I am very free in my love and loving. Where, who and what the person in question has done previously wouldn’t be an issue. So this has then made me question why, after years and years of free loving with friends, with acquaintances and with relative strangers have I now made the jump to feeling a bit grossed out by the share factor.

This isn’t the share factor with anyone else on a greater scale – with this I still have no issue, this is the share factor within the Sydney Kink Community.

What’s changed that’s made me not want to explore people sexually that have gotten around a bit? Partly it’s to do with 60% of the Sydney Kink Community I think is full of twatburgers. People and their twue wayisms that are blind to anything outside of how they think this lifestyle should be led. People who think that because you don’t do things their way that your kink is somehow less than what they do. People who are brash, sexist, misogynistic and downright assholes.

I’ve dabbled in this lifestyle and within the community for well over 10 years. I’ve given most of those years performing at Hellfire on stage with my kinky family. The other years I did performances at Inquisition, at various kink nights, at Penrith Panthers once too. I’ve been to Darwin to perform at their Sexxxpo. We’ve been to New Zealand to perform at their annual Kink even in Christchurch. We’ve been to Melbourne to perform at the re-opening of Hellfire Melbourne. I’ve been with people who are long gone that I’ve seen again and haven’t seen again. I used to be part of a house where we opened it up once a month and had people over who used our dungeon, our furniture, our space to drink, eat, make merry… I’ve witnessed kinky marriages, court cases and hate rampages. I’ve had stalkers, falling out with friends, and my own many mistakes over the years.

How did I get to where I am now? How have I changed? Why did I change?

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Dating to FWB Contention – the petri dish experiments

Being that I already have a profile on OKC – I thought it was fair to adjust it to that it outlined exactly what I was after.

Which isn’t a boyfriend. Or a partner or a full-time lover. I changed to state that I want a FWB type arrangement with someone who is kinky, not heteronormative and open. I want someone who I can cuddle up to a night or two a week, shag, talk, go to dinner, etc and then have the rest of the week as my own.

I suddenly got an influx of even more mail, from children as young as 19 when I clearly have on my profile that I don’t want anyone contacting me that isn’t above 30. My previous post about the perils of internet dating had me screaming that I was going to ignore emails from people who just didn’t fit my requirements. And I have stuck to that. Which leads me to wonder why these guys even bother? I can only assume that they don’t read my profile. I don’t beat about the bush on my list of requirements so I don’t understand how they can seem to confused and surprised when I say no to the ones I do write back to.

There was one who was slightly interesting, only because he was furry, tall, tattooed and wasn’t a local. But then he said he’s only here for a few more months which basically I said no to because I don’t want a few months. I want someone longer term who can tick the boxes and be around for a while since I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere for a while so that we have a mutual benefit arrangement and I don’t have to go through this nightmare again.

Suffice to say the bombardment hasn’t gotten any easier. I just ignore a lot more mails now than before and that makes it somewhat easy.

My other gripe is that I do have options, however these options have been compromised.

What the fuck am I on about? Let me explain. The kinky scene in Sydney is so tiny that everyone knows one another and most of them are in open relationships which means they’ve literally already fucked each other too. Which really isn’t that much of a problem, it just means that I don’t want to sleep with them. Which limits my pool considerably because I have this squick that I get from the petri dish-esque sharing.


Do I have a problem with sharing? Hell no, I just don’t want to dive into the pool of … well.. shared-ness. Which is why I look outside of the scene. It’s why I stretch myself out to find people who haven’t been shared around like an apple pie with everyone I know. I don’t want to compare notes on people, or find out their sexual quirks from my friends and acquaintances. It’s just not my thing.

So when I mentioned the guy that had found me on OKC that I’d had the previous threesome with to my housemate, she immediately found him and messaged him on OKC. The problem being that now that she’s gone there, I can’t go there with him. It effectively rules him out as a FWB.

Am I being fussy? Am I the only one that gets squicked out by this interconnectedness?

In the meantime I’m focusing on my fussy self instead.


The dating game: How men fail in online interaction

I find the online dating game a bit tiresome.

You see I’ve always approached it so that I answered all my emails from guys, even if it was to say thanks but no thanks. Sometimes I even helped them to better understand how to email a woman to get a more positive response and why I was saying no to their email to begin with. And what do I get in return? A barrage of unwanted and unsolicited verbal diarrhoea. I get called fat and ugly. I get called a whore. A slut. Obviously I’m all of those things, because I refused to put out for them. Maybe if they’d offered me money I would have changed my mind? Being that I’m a whore and all no? /sarcasm

My post the other day about the guy that wouldn’t let it go even after I said I wasn’t interested? I had to block him.

And today, today brought a new crop of man-child’s to my email box. I’ve now decided that I just won’t answer. I’m not going to answer. This constant barrage is depressing.

I’ve made it really quite clear in my profile that I don’t want to be contacted by straight men who don’t lead an alternative lifestyle. I don’t want to be contact by people who aren’t kinky and I definitely don’t want to be contacted by people who don’t fit what I’m after. I’ve said that I won’t reply to people who don’t say more than “hi” or make sexual innuendo. I won’t engage with people who don’t engage my mind before my sexuality.

So I can only assume that they don’t read the profile and just look at my pictures.

Because that’s what I’ve been reduced down to. A pretty face and a fuck-able body. Yet I am more than this. I have a brain. I have opinions and I have beliefs. Why can’t men reach out to those? Why does it always have to be about them getting their dicks wet? I am not just an orifice.

I’ve had some really really lovely interactions with women though. They don’t objectify me and actually talk to me like a human instead of a sex toy. It makes for a nice change. I’m half tempted to change my profile so it says only looking for women.

See below for some awesome examples and yes, these emails are just from today – obviously try to excuse the auto-correct mistakes in my emails back, damn phone ruins my rage rants. Also the darker grey answers are mine, the white ones are from the strange men:

So in line with my rage today, I feel that I should make an idiot man’s guide to how to talk to women online.

How to approach women 101:

  1. Do’s: Say Hello, ask them how they are, how their day is going, etc Don’t: Ask them what their favourite sexual position is, if they want to kiss/fuck/suck you
  2. Do’s: Refer to something in their profile that spoke to you, may be a book, some music, a hobby. Engage with them on your thoughts on it. Don’t: turn it around to end up being a sentence referring to your penis/torso/how awesome your photo’s are
  3. Do’s: Talk briefly about yourself in regards to something that you think might interest them after reading their profile. Don’t: Give your phone number and say call me for fun times, tell them that they are hot and you don’t take no for an answer
  4. Do’s: Don’t waffle on for pages and pages. Keep it simple, to the point and engaging. Don’t: Fill it full of sexually explicit questions, innuendo or what you want to do to their body. There’s a time and a place for that and it’s not in the very first email you send someone.
  5. Do’s: leave your note to them with an open-ended question about something you genuinely want to know about them Don’t: do not ask them about their pubic hair, tits, arse or any other body feature that makes them feel like they are your sex toy and not a human being.

Now I realise we all like sex. This does not mean that all etiquette need go out the window. There were a few guys there that I could have easily gone for a coffee with but they ruined it with their pushing and general disgustingness. Just because we all love sex doesn’t mean that you don’t engage someone before talking about sticking anything anywhere.

See examples of my screen shots above of what NOT TO DO.

And next time you start whining about women not replying to your messages, think really fucking hard about what you put in said message in the first place.


America – I did you. Oh how I did you. Wrap up of my first visit.

My last post wrapped up when I went back to Texas to visit with Daddy and how I took 10 years off his life with my cuts, bruises and bleeding in his car. Not the kind of bruising I was hoping for but best laid plans and all that. We never did break open his toy bag. All that leather that didn’t touch my skin, oh well. Next time. There’s always next time no?

Next time…

So I flew back into Vegas and let Scotty know I was back. He asked if I would stay with him again and I said that I thought it was best that I spend the last few days in Vegas in my room as it’s easier for me to buy all the bits and pieces I needed to take home and I didn’t want to inconvenience him with having him drive me everywhere. We didn’t ever get another night of amazing fucking, which is one of my regrets, but I figure he’s not going anywhere and he’s not given up on me yet so who knows, maybe there will be awesome sex happening again sometime soon.

I did however spend the second last night I was in Vegas with Mr. Married. Yes, he and his wife were in an open relationship, he found me on OKC while I was over there and he was in town on business trip so we agreed to meet up again as he was the one I had a date with but had to cancel because I was dying from the Santa Rampage and he bought me headache tablets to help while I was hiding in bed wishing I was dead.

So he knocked on my door after he’d finished work for the day, we picked up our conversation from the last time we met and before long we were ripping our clothes off and fell into bed. I have no idea how we went from amazing conversation to naked sex, but I blame his brain. I’m such a sapiosexual that I’ll blame that. His brain made me wet.

sapiosexual (comparative more sapiosexual, superlative most sapiosexual). Attracted to intelligence or the human mind.

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Mental Health Week

I’m not sure if you guys are aware but tomorrow is Mental Health DayFriday 10th October. So in support of this I’m going to write about my issues centring around depression and health.

This year has been a bit of a rough ride for me. I went through my first bout of depression when one of my friends committed suicide and I broke up with my ex girlfriend.

This year I got dumped via text message because he was too scared to try. I found out the reason I seem to be piling on the weight even though I’m eating right and exercising didn’t have to do with me, but because my ovaries and PCOS has decided that I need another round of fucking up my life with insulin resistance. My blood sugar is so high that 1 more point and I’m diabetic. Yes, remind me to thank you ovaries again, for fucking my life over in so many nice ways. I’m on tablets I take daily, I started them 3 days ago. I’ve lost 3 kilo’s in 3 days. I’m on my way back, but the urge to run and hide is like a drug to me at the moment.

I can’t figure out if I’m currently agoraphobic because I’m depressed or I’m agoraphobic because I just don’t want to go out.

If only I could lose the big black cloud that’s currently circling my head because let me tell you something; knowing that you’re doing all the right things and your body isn’t doing what it’s meant to is a real kick in the cunt. I’ve rejoined the gym up the road so that I don’t have to avoid going for a run because it’s raining any more. My membership starts tomorrow and I can’t wait to get back into it. Also the fact that I can’t seem to find a man worth of even a cup of coffee and some talk is super depressing. Am I going to be alone forever? Should I get some more cats to counteract this?

I’m off to see my GP this weekend to get a referral to see a psychologist. Because in Australia you can get 10 free visits to a shrink for free under our health system. I’m going to make use of it, because I know what she’s going to say to me when I’m back on that couch. But sometimes I need to hear it from someone else that isn’t a friend or family. Sometimes I need to hear that anyone, given the circumstances would feel the same. I need to hear that I’m not crazy and that I will be ok. Soon.

Health wise I feel like I have taken back some control of my life. Things are going back the way the need to be. In a months time I go and get my insulin levels checked again and hopefully, hopefully they are climbing down. And with them my weight and my depression.

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A friend-three-some? A pleasant blast from the past…

It’s been one of those weeks where I’ve been pretty sick and some guy messaged me on OKC.

He didn’t objectify me or make me want to stab him repeatedly in the eyeball with a rusty spoon. He looked vaguely familiar from his pictures and I couldn’t place him, I thought he looked like someone my old roomie had the hots for but I couldn’t be sure because I didn’t really spend that much time staring at his face – or any other part of his body when he used to come over. We spend time chatting outside while we smoked together and then I’d head in and do my thing and they’d do theirs.

So anyway, back to the story. This guy messages me. He’s smart, articulate and engaging. I’m sick, curious and vaguely interested if only because he’s not going for the kill and sexualising everything. So I message him back and give him a pat on the back for not being a jerk-off with the first few emails backwards and forwards.

Fast forward to today, I’m feeling a wee bit more human, my ovaries still feel like they are trying to chew their way out of my body but I’m functioning to a degree.

We go from OKC to Kik and he sends me a picture of himself cuddling with a cat. Said cat and him look even more familiar. I put it off to someone I must have a passing acquaintance with.

Then he asks me if I ever lived where I used to live a few suburbs away from where I am now. And like a jigsaw, all the puzzle pieces fit into place and I died laughing. No really, I did.

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How to piss me off in 1 easy step

  1. Be a bigoted asshole who tells me that I need counseling because I believe in having open relationships and because I’m kinky. And that being kinky means that I’m after 5 minutes of fun as opposed to a serious stable relationship – and apparently it also makes me someone who only fools around.

I’d say kiss my butt, but my butt’s too good for him.


He didn’t know what hit him.

Well he did. It was my astonishingly impressive and formidable vocabulary and expressive and articulate response.

Hope it felt like a brick.

I haven’t dated one single person since my last relationship. This says something about the quality of men out there than it does about my lack of patience.

Also that I don’t really mind being single, it gives me time to focus on myself and enjoy my life. I think a  lot of men are surprised by this. At least that’s the impression I’m getting. I don’t need a man. It throws them a bit. It confuses them and I would hope that one day I’ll meet a man who it challenges enough to not send me a picture of his penis and expect me to swoon at his feet.

Unless he’s James Deen. Or Jason Momoa. Then I might swoon.

On another note, the moving to South America and opening a cat orphanage is looking better by the minute.


Sexism in wanting a child free womb

I read an article today about a woman, aged 30, who sidestepped her doctors and went directly to a gynecologist who did the procedure for her, the procedure being sterilisation.

I wish I’d thought of that.

But her story so closely resembled my own. Her fury was my fury. I felt it all and I knew where she was at.

Since I was age 19 I knew something was messed up with my insides. I rode my doctors ass about it until at age 24 they finally decided to do an internal ultrasound which showed in that instead of small ovaries mine were about 10 times the size due to cysts. Finally, they tell me I have PCOS (Poly Cystic Ovary Syndrome).

Hormones man, apparently it’s all in the hormones.However in the meantime they put me on the pill and told me I’d never have children. The more I took the pill the heavier I got, the more doctors told me that it was PCOS causing my rapid weight gain and subsequent issues. When I was told that children were not an option because of the disease I thought all my dreams had come at once because I’d been pestering my doctors every year since I was 19 to have my uterus removed. It caused me pain, there was no reason for me to keep it. Plus, I didn’t want children.

I threw the pill away gleefully. I started to drop the excess weight without even trying. I got back to closer to what I used to weight and I didn’t give up on asking for my sterilisation.

I was consistently and routinely told no. Every. Single. Year. Apparently I wasn’t allowed to make this decision for myself until I was about age 35. At which point if I still wanted to rip my insides out then I may state my case and they may agree to it.

Apart from the rage I felt at being turned away, year in year out, I felt rage that men on the other hand could go get a vasectomy without being told they weren’t allowed to incase they ever changed their minds.

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No, I am not your object.

This post is brought to you my ranty mcrant pants. And the fact that men would rather treat me as a piece of meat than having a normal conversation.

More and more I’m starting to get annoyed with OKC.

It’s pretty easy to tell you why too. Because the men that message me seem to think that they are doing me a huge favour by telling me how awesome my tits are.

Or how beautiful my smile, if only it was giving them a blow job.

What the ever-loving fuck people?

Is this just me?

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On being single again… OKC Fail.

I don’t know what prompted me to reactivate my OKC profile, but I did. And not before long I started trolling the boys that were messaging me. I honestly don’t see me ever meeting one single guy off this site anytime in my future. Or their dreams.

Where did manners and courtesy go, I ask?

Anyway, here’s the very first message I got to entertain you all.

OKC Fail

His writing from the left, mine doesn’t have a bubble.

Sexual objectification. I’m sure I wrote about how hot it makes me. With the right person.

In this case it turned me into a raging bitch. At least I stayed polite.

Oh the fun world of dating, how I loathe thee. I might have to retire by getting a new hitachi and collecting all the James Deen porn available to keep me going until the end of days. Or a zombie apocalypse.

Whichever comes first.