Open relationship doesn’t mean I’m looking for something better…

Moving is going… well. I have so much still to do and boxes to unpack that I’m exhausted just thinking about it. My cat is all but back to normal but he’s due back at the vets on Monday to have more blood tests and a clot in his neck biopsied. He’s climbing, biting and waking me up at 3am with a paw in my mouth while he perches on my tits staring down at me while I’m sleeping on my back.

This last week has seen an influx of inane emails on OKC for me though. Inane as in, not even worth my time replying kind. And it takes a lot for me not to reply because ultimately I’m too polite for my own good.

What I also realised is that I may need to re-write my profile. You see, it lists me as being in an open relationship. But for some reason men seem to view this as me looking for something better than Cern.

Which, let’s face it, is never going to happen.

So then it got me thinking. What does one put in said profile to say that they’ve met the love of their life and they aren’t in an open relationship because they aren’t getting fulfilled at home, quite the opposite to be honest. I’m getting fulfilled at home to the point that I’m not even looking anywhere else. If people write to me then great, I keep up conversation and keep in touch. But I’m no purposefully seeking or making dates. I’m not looking at profiles thinking “Oh yeah, I need to get this person into bed or I must meet this person for a coffee and shagging session”.

I love what I have with Cern. I honestly do. And at the moment it’s all so new and beautiful and I’m enjoying him so much that I don’t see the need nor the desire to stop my obsession just being focused on him. You know, the honeymoon period. I want to enjoy it for all it’s worth. And when we settle into a routine a year or so later, I may even purposefully seek for some different kinds of interactions. But that’s where I am at, he’s been going out on coffee dates and to be honest, I haven’t really cared that he has. Except when he baits me to the point that I lose my shit at him – he has this habit of pushing my buttons.


For example, he met a girl this week for a coffee. Which he enjoyed and that was great, I was happy he met someone he had a good time with. I’m all for him meeting new people – unfortunately she was named the same name as an ex-friend of mines child who went a bit crazy (the ex-friend, not her child) – which made me cringe internally but I’m sure his friend comes from a normal family and doesn’t have crazy in her genes. But when he started pushing that I somehow should sleep with her it squicked me out. And yet he kept pushing. And I kept getting snarkier.

It didn’t stem from jealousy, this reaction. At least, I don’t think it did. I think that if and when we do want to have a threesome, that it’s something we both do together. We both talk to the person, we both get to know them, we both interact and keep communications open across the board.  It’s really important to me to be kept in the loop. It makes me feel included and desired as opposed to feeling like the bit of meat on the side that’s added as an afterthought because it might be fun. And I realise this kind of thinking is silly and totally not how Cern means for it all to come across, however my own relationship history has warped me a bit in regards to a lot of things and it’s a process of me working through them all to unravel and retrain myself to think differently – or at least feel differently.

And my knee jerk reaction to having women I don’t know, I’ve never talked to or know anything about thrown at me like meat on a stick is that I feel cheap – and it reminds me of how my ex used to parade and flirt in front of me with other women in a way to elicit a negative reaction after we had the conversation of having a closed relationship as opposed to an open one because he didn’t want to share me. It brings up feelings of inadequacy and insecurity of self – and I don’t like being there at all.

Maybe this comes with age into a relationship; the knowledge and trust in your partner finding someone suitable without your input… but right now, I don’t really have that and it just makes me not want to play, in fact it tempts me to pack up my toys and go home.

I mentioned that I wanted a threesome for my birthday – which we still haven’t gotten around to, but with life being so freaking busy I figure it will happen. It’s just a matter of when and not something I really want to rush anyway.

But coming back to my profile on OKC – how does one write a profile to say that I am not looking for the love of my life? I think I’ve already found him. I’m not saying I’m in an open relationship because I think there’s someone better out there for me. I’m not on OKC because my partner doesn’t satisfy me in bed or in life. I’m not on there because I somehow think he’s lacking and I need someone else to make up the difference.

I’m there because, I know, no matter how much you say it’s not true, all relationships hit a plateau – and being able to have the option of something outside what you have built doesn’t diminish what you have at home, it makes you appreciate it more.

That the thought of needles and me poking them into someone else makes Cern turn this funny shade of green. He doesn’t quite grasp my love of finger painting in someone’s blood or that I find the entire thing really tribalistic – ritualistic even. Someone is giving me access to the very thing that keeps them alive – that runs in their veins and lights up their eyes. Blood play is intoxicating on many a level. But there’s certain kinks of mine that he is totally not into – and that’s ok. He doesn’t have to be. But being in an open relationship gives me the option of exploring those other kinks with other people. And that doesn’t necessarily mean that I need to get into their pants. If anything it’s more about the intimacy of play and sharing something different. There’s so much to life apart from just sex and you can find intimacy in a wide variety of things, especially in the kink world.

Unfortunately I don’t quite know how to explain that to people who don’t understand alternative lifestyles – they just don’t get “it”.

And so I wonder, how does one put all this into a profile and make it clear that “open relationship” doesn’t mean this is a pissing competition and you get to “win” me from Cern. It’s a sharing of aspects of ourselves with the knowledge and consent of our partners – and the security of knowing that no matter what, they will love you and be there for you to come home to.


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.


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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Dating fails #5391037

So the whole dating thing still isn’t going. Not a man in sight that I’d spend my time with over dinner or a coffee.

But here’s one that’s been making me cringe and I know y’all enjoy my seemingly idiot attracting magnet.

I did say no to him already but he is one of those special guys that keeps pushing in the hopes that I have a change of heart because he’s been harassing me and then I magically fall at his feet and offer myself for the taking because I’d been blind to his obvious wit and charm. Not.

Maybe I should have an auto response saved somewhere to send when a guy doesn’t understand I’m not interested – along the lines of:

Hello random man that won’t take no for an answer, I said not interested. Back the fuck up, bow the fuck out and take my answer as final. I’m not changing my mind. Ever.

Am so tired of jerks like this that I went and changed my profile to now include that I don’t want cis-gendered straight males who have no idea about alternative lifestyles to contact me. Here’s to hoping the quality improves. Doubt it though!

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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.


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.


How much, love? The night I nearly became a hooker.

Kings Cross, the seedy underbelly of Sydney.

The famous coke sign.

Well, at least, it used to be and to some extent I think it still is. Even though gentrification of the area has begun. There aren’t as many brothels as there were 10 years ago. The yuppies have moved in and started to call parts of it Paddington, Elizabeth Bay, Woolloomooloo in the hopes of raising their property value. Yet, this isn’t my Cross. Oh no.

My cross is a place for the weirdos, the queers, the hookers, the sexual deviants… It’s a place where you can find all kinds of things and people and no one bats an eyelid when I walk down the street in a latex dress with a fish tail. My partner holding my leash as we walk and instead of getting people gawking you get people smiling and nodding as you pass. It’s the secret handshake.

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