Fingers, allow me to introduce you to keyboard.

As per usual I faded out for a time. Missed me? I wish I could say that in some coy, provocative manner, but let us face reality - while I am indeed provocative, I don't consider myself remotely coy. Not anymore, at least. I used to be. Then being coy grew to be, in alternate turns, both boring and aggravating. I'm too good at being coy, at playing games, and thus when I work those, people have little clue whether or not to take me seriously. A mistress of manipulation, perhaps I am, but I quit the manipulation game long ago when I decided that playing with hearts only lead to hurt. Sometimes on only one part, sometimes on both. Sometimes on many.

I certainly know how to jump into things I didn't even mean to discuss.

From the stats, the letter I wrote to my crush back in September seemed to be a popular entry. At least, I assume it really was. So for those of you who enjoyed that one, I regret to inform you that A's affection mostly dropped off, and while it's beginning to climb again, and I continue to have some feelings for him, these days I frequently wonder if those feelings were and are largely because he was there for me when I was fresh and raw out of the breakup. Yes, wondering such hurts. No, I'm not dwelling on it.

In relation, I finally left monogamy behind. I never considered myself monogamous, but I never knew how to discuss it with a partner. The Ex and I had an open relationship, but it was less than ideal under any name. The rules list was complex, and mildly ridiculous at times, and we both violated it. Perhaps him more than me. Alright, perhaps is a bit of an understatement, but we'll cover that later.

I'm not saying I'm poly. I probably am. I haven't entirely figured 100% soon if I'm poly or just a slut yet, and I'm not committing to anything before I know for certain. I used to jump into things with little thought, I'm a bit more cautious now.

I do have a sex life again, though. I quite enjoy it as well. I'd enjoy it more if it were more than each weekend, but life doesn't work well with that right now. In time, I'll give more details. I just need to figure out how to write it without giving too many details or falling into the trap I did back in the day with the Ex and waxing poetic about eeeeverything. Not that that was bad at the time, but these days, if I fawned and giggled over cock, I'd likely proceed to smack myself in the face with a frying pan. Not my cup of tea anymore. I can do it in person - while naked or clothed for sex, faced with it - but in writing? Can't. Would backspace it all.

I've been working on a lot of art and knitting and World of Warcraft when not consumed with sex, appointments for imminent schooling, and attempts to get hired somewhere. My art skills are improving again, it's quite pleasing to see. Sadly, I'm running out of room in my sketchbook and haven't the funds to get a new one.

I think that's really about it for life updates. Unless you reeeeally want to hear all about my every little sniffle. But I doubt it.

So. The meat of the matter; or, what I can't seem to stop making clear: I'm bitter. Yes, yes, my Ex and I ended on an amicable note. As far as the uninformed eye could see, we're still friends. I wish him all the best. But I also feel so much roiling resentment for so many parts of our relationship. I fume over it. I have a tendency to get bitching about it. And I can't help but relate near anything to the three years I spent with him. Is that normal? I don't know. A lot of my experiences during that time have affected me deeply. At 21 years old, that was a large chunk of my life.

We both did a lot of things that undermined our relationship. I say I'm not bothered, but who am I fooling? I grumble. I rant about how much the sex dropped off. I am displeased with how he handled many things, and yes, with how I handled many things. Communication was poor at best most of the time, and we had completely different ways of dealing with negative events. I wasn't always honest. I doubt he was always honest. Hell, I know he wasn't always honest, but I shouldn't air dirty laundry. Should I? Dare I? I don't really know.

I just don't really know. I mean, fuck. I know I'm not perfect. I stopped trying to be a long time ago. But is imperfect allowed to span airing dirty laundry about ones former relationship? Fuck. Questions.

Thinking about this makes me supremely uncomfortable right now. I don't think I'm ready to write this right now. But I will. Soon. I think.

I'll be back.

- Gypsy

Life update number twenty zillion.

So, amidst all these letters, I figured I ought to fill everyone in on the current state of my life, which is...

...Pretty damn good, actually.

Nearly two weeks ago now I moved out of my ex's family home and in with a group of my darling geeky friends. Our first order of business, after taking me to get my schooling ball rolling, was a trip to Calgary, where I had much fun and, on the final day, got the Thanksgiving dinner that I missed out on, as my ex's extended family chose to completely disinvite me from family gatherings. Which would be less offensive if they hadn't claimed to like me when he and I were together and if our breakup had been messy, but it was such an amicable split that when we were still living together but not in a relationship anymore we'd lie in bed and make fun of each other when our crushes made us blush.

Sadly, his family has for the most part made me a pariah anyhow. Because, of course, there's nothing worse than ending a relationship that the romantic love has completely left rather than lying to ourselves and being miserable. As I said to him on the final day, 'it has become rather evident that the only things I was regarded as being good for were menial labour, potential money, and shooting babies out'.

Hopefully he gets the fuck out of there in due time. He's a good guy, just not the right guy.

Anyhow, I'm optimally going back to school to finish my high school education this January, and I'm anticipating that quite eagerly.

Not really much of an offline sex life come lately. Plenty of online, though, and friends are trying to prod me into set-ups with their friends although I'm not sure how well those'll work. I've been out of the dating game for so long that I've sort of forgotten how to not completely scare off potential partners with my attitude towards sex/sexuality, among other things.

But everything is looking up, at least. I don't find myself laying in the dark, wondering whether I'm even worth anything. And that's the most important thing.

Diversion, Collision, Inability To Pay Attention

My directions are both diverting and colliding at once, at least in my mind. I alternate between wishing I could purely concentrate on sex for this blog, but that would, given how much more I am than a sexual being, feel artificial. Not that those whose blogs purely focus on their status as sexual beings are artificial, but I can't separate the sexual from the rest of me. I tried. It didn't work. My sexuality is firmly woven in with everything else about me, from the food that I devour (I am a devoted lover of bacon and french onion soup, and a bagel soaked in butter brings me an obscene amount of joy) to the more-than-occasional heavy waves of depression and other mental joys that leave me wanting to either take this here keyboard and beat myself upside the head with it. Add in everything else and it is no blasted wonder that I cannot separate anything about myself.

Lifes little ironies, I suppose, given how much I love putting physical stuff in designated compartments so that I know exactly where it is. Or digital stuff. No, really, you should see my porn. It's organized into these folders: BDSM, Blonde, Boys, Brunette, Legs And Feet, Lesbian, Redhead, Straight, Strap-On, Tits And Ass And Twat. For the record, the last one is for all female-body-shots where hair colour is not available. For the curious, the Brunette folder has way more photos than any of the others. I seem to have a preference. Not that you'd notice offline, when I'm out and about all attractive females illicit the same result. Attractive males when I'm out and about are far less likely, for some reason. Or maybe I'm just biased when it comes to males. Yes, that makes sense.

I have become distracted again. This is what happens when I'm allowed to surf the internet while writing. I get distracted. Not that this is anything new to anyone who's been reading, given my amount of posts that read like a pervy chipmunk on crack yammering on about this and that and oh! Oh! Nuts!

Anyhow, the point is, it's vaguelly ironic that while I attempt to compartmentalize my physical life (It's unsuccessful due to my in-laws being of the disorganized fucking disaster area chaos variety), and succeed at compartmentalizing my digital life (Easy due to how much simpler it is to make a folder on the external drive and move things around), my brain probably never will function on a compartmentalizing-level. I can force myself to not thing about things while doing other things (Until this very moment, I had not thought about warcrack while writing, and despite thinking about it, I have not got the urge to go play it), but I cannot simply say to my brain 'Okay. We're writing now. Concentrate on that and only that'. Because when I say that, my brain responds with 'Okay! Let's do th-Gotta check google reader! Might be webcomic post! Or recipes! Or PORN!'.

It was actually how to tell the difference between a couple different types of potatoes. Yeeeah, I'm getting work done here real good!

Although honestly, at this time of day my RSS feeds are much less distracting than twitter. All the news sites are flooding my feed, and it will continue throughout the day, and seeing as I get 98% of my news via twitter (So does Steven, it's really quite nice for sparking discussion. 'Did you see ____?' 'Yeah, that was shocking'. Yeah, we're dorks), I tend to pay attention.

I had a point in here somewhere. I know I did. Compartmentalizing. I was going to say something deep about it. This is why I shouldn't write blog posts when I've been up all night! Even if I did only get up about twelve hours ago and theoretically should be able to stay awake without fatigue for four more hours. Theoretically. That's why I'm on my second cup of coffee. And why I'll likely consume much more today, as I have vital-to-the-state-of-my-universe-plans, namely seeing a friend and then going grocery shopping with another friend and I'm unlikely to sleep before sometime tomorrow morning, as tonight there is to be D&D with my kickass Aasimar rogue. Yep.

In general world updates: I got a hitachi. There is nothing I can say about it that has not been said by other amazing bloggers. All I can really say is 'Holy motherfucking crap'. And 'Holy shit I don't have to grind against it like it's a girl and I'm a douchebag at a bar'. And 'Holy SHIT THIS FEELS GOOD EVERYWHERE'. Yeah, it's been getting used for what the packaging says it's meant for even more than it's been used on me. I don't know what the fuck is fucked up with my back (Aside from being fucked up and the fact that I'm right now currently thisclose to being menstrual – at least I damn well better be as if that bitch is late I am going to go nuts – and his back being fucked up in different ways that make massage by hand not always effective), but it helps. And up by my neck it makes me talk funny!

Anyhow. This has been another installment of Gypsy Is Incapable Of Keeping On-Topic (Unless it's Serious), I'll be back soon (Hopefully).

PS – I'm 21 and this blog is 3. I would do an actual celebratory post but I can't think of one. Have cake for the respective birthdays if you so desire. Or an orgasm.

Early Morning Alice Cooper

In the past few minutes I did something I never thought I would do: I deleted one of my old blog entries. For those of you that have actually read my blog entries before, it was the rundown of all the men I've had intimate relations with.

Why did I do it? Well, for one, I no longer feel the desire to scroll around and read about all of them, nor do I really feel like having them read that entry as I become more and more open about this blog (Which I am). They know they've slept with me, I know they've slept with me, I might go over them in brief memory posts at some point, and that's all I need.

If you haven't read that entry before, the most you really came away with was a lot of bitchery and the knowledge that I've had full intercourse with fourteen males, fooled around with an additional eight, and it didn't mention the three females I've been in male-centric threesomes with.

I contemplated rewriting it, but I decided that the best plan of action was to delete it. I may go through my old entries and edit some things that need refining at some point, I hesitate to do so since they do show a growth, but I need to make sure that they're up to my current standards.


Anyhow. As for what else is going on...Not much. Steven and I have the spark back (You may have noticed that I slipped in Picking Up...I have since given up on calling him Lad since I continually nearly type his name anyhow). Mind you, in my spectacular fashion...I never did tell him that I felt that way. Given that I've been having an emotional roller coaster ride lately, I suspect it may mostly be time to look into a higher synthroid dosage and I need to remember to take my multivitamin.

I may or may not be going back to school this fall. If my friend tells the truth, I'll have to take an aptitude test for class placement. I can see it now - They'll probably tell me not to even bother with English and Social and stick me in bottom-rung Math and Science. And I can't even recall if I passed Career And Life Management (If I did, I obviously forgot it immediately afterward).

Most of my free time lately has been spent playing either World of Warcrack or reading Inkheart.

Picking Up

...A long time after having left off.

At some point, writers block hit hard for the sexy stuff - just as I thought I was over the worst of the depression and that drama was a non-issue, both started cropping up in spades.

Lad and I were having some pretty bad arguments, about piddly shit for the most part. All it took was a misunderstanding of tone for us to rip into each other. This lasted for a while, actually, but things are improving steadily now (I actually realized today that we haven't fought in over a month - YAY!). Our sex life dipped into an all-time low. My physical health was on a rollercoaster, and while some days I was happy, most days I just felt like crap.

Then the Other Girl started trying to re-connect with Steven. She attempted to convince him to hook up with her days before my birthday. Needless to say, I nearly had a coronary. He refused, and told her to screw off, but it hasn't deterred her any. If she keeps it up, I'm going to encourage him to report it to his managers as sexual harassment (They work at the same - huge - store). I'm doing my best to not interact with her, although I certainly don't hesitate to glare if I see her. He's mine.

Around July-August-ish we closed the relationship. At the time it was because we were still fighting too much, too often, so we decided to close it to focus on ourselves and each other. It worked. We haven't explicitly opened up again, but there's always the possibility. When we have a more defined timeline for moving out, we'll likely sit down and discuss it in detail. Define the rules clearly and, if we do re-open, spell them out in large print for any potential partners.

I'm still jobless, and not for lack of trying. I seem to hand in resumes left, right, and center...And get maybe one interview for all the effort. I'm grateful to be under Lad's healthcare, as it'll help pay for my synthroid and, come warm weather again, my epipen. I hate the emptiness in my bank account though, and I need to find a job.

Now that I'm back, I may finally build my blogroll. Take some new dirty photos. Get my mojo back. Because I'm not ready to be gone - I want to live and enjoy it.

Further Update On The Other Girl

I have laid down an ultimatum.

She has a week to stop clinging to Lad and whining whenever he won't put her ahead of me, his family, and his band/close friendships. If she doesn't, I am putting an axe on their relationship.

I am starting to think that, on the romantic side of being open, we would be better off finding someone we're both interested in. Who demonstrates maturity.

I'm so glad I'm not that interested in openness as a way to find a second love to augment Lad and I. I have Techno Sex God, who is disinterested in the romance thing with me, to ensure my high libido doesn't drive me nuts. That is all I need.

*Sigh* Another massive update post. My life fluctuates too fucking much sometimes.

Okay, first off - Oh my god I'm sorry I promised XXXMas postage and less anger. Well, I can't deliver too well on less anger, but here's some XXXMas - And some New Years while I'm at it.

That was indeed Lad's XXXMas present, prior to him receiving it. It looked very similar after receiving, just a lot redder.


On the second, I believe that was. I might be wrong, being jobless and penniless has blurred the days together. But hey, it gave me time to get healthy...And bored...And on occasion...

...Ticked off.

Okay, I enjoy the presence of the other girl. I need to come up with a good name for her. But she's cute, and sweet, and we get along smashing.

But there's a problem.

See, she lives at home, and cannot move out at this point. Her parents are rather intolerant of alternative lifestyles (They call her a slut for kissing Lad - They would shit a brick if they knew that I endorse this, and what I get up to. Imagine what their reactions would be if they knew of the lifestyles some of the people I read religiously have!), and she therefore has to act as a good girl in their eyes. It occasionally escalates to an even more abusive situation. Now, having been a victim survivor of familial physical abuse before, this makes me worry about her. If I could rescue her at this point, I would. I'm very much the Knight In Shining Armor when it comes to my female friends, and I have a very definite tendency to jump to save someone.

But.

I feel she is clinging to Lad. Too much. See, she and I have each other on MSN. At first, this was nifty, aside from the fact that she uses ten bazillion icons, and I...Don't. I use an occasional smilie, because Best Friend managed to get me to loosen up enough, and then I got addicted to nifty ones. She can barely type one sentence without one. But I digress. Lately, when Lad's been working, or has had other plans, such as sleeping because his sleep patterns and his work schedule dislike each other, she has been most insistant that I tell him to get online. Excuse me? He's my fiance, if he is sleeping or partaking activities with me, whether they be screwing my brains out or playing Wii while I watch and be helpful (Or provide him with creative swears), then that is the priority. I am not going to put you over me. I am not going to put you over him getting proper rest.

She needs to find other ways to get the affection and care she deserves without interfering with the way Lad and I work together. I know it's not her intent to hurt us, but this is frustrating me to no end. And I am going to talk to him about this. I know he cares about her, but pandering to her when she wants love and affection without making sure I'm not in need of any at the moment myself is not going to affect us in a healthy way.

The Dumbass made the mistake of trying to get me to prioritize him over Lad. I don't want that to happen on the other side as well.


On a brighter note, my mental outlook on life is improving. I have not felt any urges to hurt myself in over a week. New Years Eve and Day went excellently for me, I spent them with friends and with Lad and we had a blast, all of us. I found my SSN card, so I can now go job-hunting with ease...

...And I reconnected with Techno Sex God, who is interested in reconnecting in that wonderfully sexual way. *Smirky smirk* Life, clingy other girlfriends aside, is looking up.

Oh, god, could it be the weather.

I am now jobless.

I thought it would hurt more. Instead, it feels as though a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I can have my social life, some time to regain my sanity and put myself back in a healthy mental place.

It's been a bit since I last posted.

For about a week in November I had a dominant who wasn't my Lad. I neither desire nor find it appropriate to discuss this, other than to inform you of it, and that I'll refer to him as...I have no idea yet. I'll come up with something.

Writers block is cruel and unusual punishment.


Here, have a photo showing my face as my apology for the briefness of it all.

Things Are Looking Up - Well, Kind Of

Okay - First, an update on what's going on at work.

The first new girl pulled a no-call-no-show after being late for three out of four training sessions, so I got to keep my regularly scheduled hours, but we have a second new girl now, who actually managed to keep the job (Although my opinion of her ability to keep the merchandise fronted is low, and I'd like it if she would put some communication into the communication book. So, I'm back on Sunday-Monday-Tuesday shifts, but I don't mind as much because...

A) On my first Sunday shift in three months, we made over $900 dollars in sales. Most days we are lucky to haul in $300, some days we don't even get $50. Needless to say, while I detest hauling ass out of bed to go to work on Sundays, I am quite willing to do so if all the Sundays up to the holiday season are so busy.

B) The Lad and I have moved in with his family until spring, when the weather is warm again and we are ready to move. It's taken some adjusting, and means even less frequent sex, but so far so good. Plus, I am somewhat considering taking a week in the early spring to go visit my parents at last.

Our cat seems to have adapted by amping up the cute - We adapted to our cat being suddenly deposited in a household already holding four cats and two dogs by replacing his collar with a harness for ease of grabbing should we need to get him out of any situation.

An update.

So, you've probably all noticed that lately it's for the most part been negative in this blog...Stress has been riding high, much to my aggravation.

I let that stress just lift today. Let it just rise off my shoulders. It's not going to help any. I'm sick of crying over stress.

And I'm letting the reason behind this lift off both of our shoulders, since it's just hurting both of us and frustrating us.

He's got a paying job again, as does Best Friend, we've got a lovely girl living with us as well who's working on getting a job, and we're making progress on finding a place, although time is ticking.

I need to eat better, but I'm doing my best.

Work is going well, and there is now porn being shot across the street, which will hopefully up the sales in our slow little store. After all, the fact that it's going on is no secret (The location was fairly well given in a newspaper article in one of the two major papers), so I imagine soon we'll have some looky-loos coming around, getting curious. And, well, more sales is good.

One of our regular customers that always kinda gave me the creeps before finally TALKED to me the other day, and now I don't mind when he comes in. I like it when my customers actually talk to me, and engage me in conversation - Then A), I don't want to just go back to my book / dinner, and B), making a sale is ten times easier since I feel much more inclined to recommend products and give advice to FRIENDLY people.

I discovered recently that one of our practically-vintage flavoured lubes has mineral oil as a second ingredient and almost lost my dinner on the floor. *Sigh* Ew.

I'm working on a compendium of what ingredients each of our lubes has, then I'll be moving on to the oils and bath products. Mostly so that I can offer it to any customers browsing with intent to buy, so that they can compare what has what and ensure they're not buying something they'd be allergic to (Case in point - Lad has allergies to both sunflower and safflower oil when they're on his skin, so any products with either are unfortunately only for me. We have learned both of those the hard way - Luckily, hopping in the shower and washing it right off with oatmeal body wash helped a lot). As well as avoiding anything that's just gross (I don't know how ANYONE can use Joy Jelly...).

After that, I'll be starting from one end and going to the other to gauge the strength and noise levels of every vibrator we carry, in a style much like Babeland, just printed on paper. Eventually I'll plug it all into the computer and arrange it in some semblence of order (Either alphabetically or by price range - Price range might work better, considering how many customers seem to be looking for the best thing for the least cost. *Rolls eyes* Because, of course, they simply can't put aside that money and save a bit more for the one they realllly want but is an oh-so-expensive twenty bucks more. Big words coming from the woman that keeps on saying she's going to buy a vibe that only costs thirty, but when you're paying rent, bills, groceries, and trying to move, money dissapears fast).

Essentially, yeah, I've got ambitions. Ambitions that will one day be printed out stylishly, dropped into a lovely pink binder to suit our stores decor, and kept within reach - Which will hopefully derive notice from the higher-ups, and maybe that will let them look past my dislike of upselling, since at least I'm going to TRY to give my utmost service to our customers. Now, if only I could watch the porn and review that in the book. Then the next time I'm asked for a good movie recommendation, I can actually give one - Instead of being tempted to tell them to go find free torrents, since then if it sucks your wallet doesn't feel sad. On the other hand, largely our porn seems to run towards the fake and the horribly unnattractive, so maybe I ought to be glad for the lack of viewing privileges. No need to waste my time on crap when I should be filling boxes.

But in any case, it's almost 1 in the morning and I ought to be in bed, not sitting on my arse in front of the laptop - I've got some interesting tales of work waiting, so I'll do my best to post those tomorrow evening.

- Gypsy

And this is where it gets to screaming.

I don't have the energy or creativity to do a long, eloquent job of this, so let's sum it up like this:

Lad lost his job almost two weeks ago, he has an interview on Monday.
Best Friend lost his job yesterday. He goes job hunting today.
Rent is due in a week and a day.
I haven't had a cigarette in almost 6 weeks.
The cunt lived with us for two weeks, didn't help out at all like she said she would, left on short notice, and broke my rules about smoking in the house.
I've got the beginnings of either strep throat or tonsillitis.
I've got way more hours at work.
And our lease is not being renewed in September.

I don't even feel sexy right now.

I just feel like it may be high time for the weekend, so that I can decompress.

Head, meet brick wall.

The dam has broken; I need a good cry. I need one now. I know that most of what is going on is no fault of mine, or his, or anyone in particulars, but it's all weighing on my shoulders and it hurts.

Literally.

Caffeine And Cleaning

It is 6:12 am. I have what is likely my nth cup of coffee sitting beside me, and I am slowly rediscovering the amazing thing known as our home. Our new roomie, who is nearly ten years older than me, the toughest lady I know (I may be a Bitch, but she is a Broad - If you read The Devils Panties, you will understand me using that term), a total neat freak, and not someone who is going to let Lad and Best Friend get away with being messy (Well, maybe Best Friend, since he keeps his mess to his room, whereas Lad spreads his from the bathroom to the kitchen and every room in between, although our room is for the most part my wardrobe), is moving in around the same time I get home from work tonight.

Her room is also the room that has served as Loki (Our cat)'s room for the past several months, and my old bedroom with all the stylings of my old room. Needless to say, I am attempting to get everything done before she moves in, including shift all my stuff to either mine and the Lad's room, the living room, or the basement, and shift Loki's food bowls and litterbox to where-ever there happens to be room.

And the bathroom needs cleaning.

She and I are going to tackle the kitchen together, since it is too much room for one person, in terms of mess rather than floor space.

Lad needs to mow the lawn, Best Friend needs to chuck some stuff, and I need to do some serious laundry.

Somewhere in all this, I need to go to the bank, deposit the rent, go to the rental office, pay the rent, and go to work to inflict my highly caffinated being on my poor customers. I wonder if I can actually get Lad to call me in as being sick, considering after I'm done cleaning I am going to be dead as a doornail.

On the bright side, once this is all done I might actually feel secure enough for, once we get us a good big load of groceries, Lad's parents to come by for dinner.

And to take photos of the place to send my parents.

Also, I hate summer, for it is too warm to concentrate.

I think I actually like coffee black better than with excessive sugar and cream. I also think I am running on some sleep deprivation.

I'm a masochist in the name of cleaning...And in the name of a good cropping, but the cropping would distract me from hauling five years worth of Cosmo (I read it for the articles, not the sex tips. Considering what those ladies consider kinky, I considered tame at age eleven) and just as many years worth of memorabilia around the house.

Frustration.

So. Work.

I subbed at one of the other stores in the company yesterday, and it turned out part of my time there was spent under the regional sales manager. Who is one bump under the owner of the company in terms of power.

I went to work in professional-ish black pants, a black tank top under a black lace shirt with ruffles under a black button-up shirt, with black boots. This is what I wear every day, true, but the corporate dress code also, summarily, wants us to look like 'respectable ladies'. Now, never mind that I usually state 'I'm no lady, I'm a bitch' when my friends refer to me as a lady - I respect corporate code and don't want to be oggled by customers too much anyhow.

This woman comes to work, or at least was working yesterday, in a too-tight-tube-top that accentuated her rolls quite unflatteringly, with her wide bra straps fully visible, as well as the back strap, a tight white pleather belt with large gaudy buckle, and too-tight black pants, with flip-flops.

Everyone else in the company dresses in a mature, professional fashion... *Headdesk* Her attitude gets my goat as well, and my stomach hurt pretty much the entire time that I had to deal with her, and I now see why people quit because of her.

I needed tequila last night. I also cried from sheer hatred of this woman. I don't truly hate that often, but she's got it.

On the upside, that store has the pure wand from Njoy in stock and I am now in the process of puppy-dog-eyeing at the lad to see if he'll buy it for me. I wanted one before, now that I've held it in my hand and felt its heft, I want it yesterday.

I prefer to say it dot dot dot.

I had an interesting, intellectually stimulating post simmering in the back of my mind.

Then there was forums, and then eating, and my cat decided that he was feeling playful, so I now have claw marks on my leg, and I got a bit tipsy earlier so my brain was already fucked up, and then I made videos (That I'm not linking to for now), and, well, that post disappeared into a vast abyss.

So, let's have a recant of my day instead.

I woke up around 9:30 to my alarm. I muttered and whined for ten minutes, got up, finished getting ready for work around 10, went back to cuddle for twenty minutes (It's a ritual I have - On days when I work, since I leave for work when he's still in bed, I get ready as fast as I can and then come back upstairs, set my alarm for about ten minutes before I have to leave, and cuddle up again so that we can maximize our cuddle time. I work day shift and he works night shift, so our schedules on days I work are completely wonked. On days I don't work, it meshes perfectly), and then left in the drizzle.

Work was alright, new stock (I swear that corporate ignores all requests from us and customers and just sends what they see we've sold) was in. I put it away. Then I had to vacuum, and our vacuum is a piece of SHIT. I swear the thing was made in the stone age. There is TAPE holding it together.

So I vacuum, and it drives me nuts because older vacuums are always so heavy and my lower back was sore as it was.

I have to turn it off when a customer comes in, and he takes forever and a day to select a fake vag, but that's no problem.

The problem was the phone call.

Some wanker calls to ask about penis pumps. Do we have electrical ones? Okay, no biggie. No, we don't. Do we carry manual pumps? Sure do - And here I notice the fapping noise. And 'Oh yeah, that's good.'

...

Him: "Do you carry electric pumps?" *fapfapfap*
Me: *Sternvoice* No.
Him: Oh yeah. Do you like big cock?
Me: *Disconnect*

You wanna talk dirty? Call a PSO. That's their area of business. I just sell sex toys, lube, and porn. And lingerie that, for the most part, quite frankly looks like shit. And condoms. And novelties. But not myself, not my body, voice, words - Nothing that is of me.

I think he may have been the same jackass from last Tuesday who repeatedly asked the same questions about keeping his cock hard in a breathless voice. Who called three times in twenty minutes. When he was starting the same cycle of questions almost ten minutes after I was off the clock and therefore not getting paid to tell him about rings for his cock, I disconnected.

I love giving advice, but when you mistake my willingness to give advice / my job with willingness to be your personal masturbation fantasy, you cross a line. Go ahead, wank while thinking about me, but frankly, most of the time I don't want to hear it. If I do, I will make it clear that I do.


Would you like to know what happens when I say I'll finish a post the next night? I completely forget what else I was going to warble on about.

So I'll wrap this up by saying that I love watching Are You Being Served? on YouTube at nearly three in the morning.

I'd like to help you doctor, yes I really really would, but the din in my head it's too much and it's no good.

Has anyone ever had the dilemma I'm in?

Well, I suppose you can't answer unless I tell you the dilemma.

I want to come out to my fiance about this blog (Which predates our relationship by about half a month - Oh, and when he does read this, if he ever does, HAPPY ANNIVERSARY BABY) and Fetlife (Which I've only been on for a month or two, and while he knows I'm networking more, he doesn't know where).

It's not that telling him I write about sex on the net that bothers me, since I've told him about my roleplays with a friend of mine, roleplays that frequently result in a lot of sex. It's not him learning about the details of past encounters that bothers me, since I've already told him a great deal.

Rather, it's the questions. The 'Why do they get to hear it before me', the 'why do you trust the internet enough to show your body', the 'why didn't you tell me from the get-go', the 'are you cheating on me with someone', the 'I don't want you to do this anymore, will you stop'.

To which, the answers are...

- Because it's easier for me to bare my soul in text. You have no problem doing it verbally or with your guitar. I do it better in text, with my face and name unknown.

- Because I just don't care who sees my body that much. I never have. I never will. Go ahead and wank to my photos, if I like you I'll be flattered and otherwise I just don't care.

- Because if I told you from the get-go that I'd be writing about our sex, my past sex, my fantasies, and posting nudes on the internet, and we broke up, you could possibly use all of it against me. I have watched friends get burned hard over having admitted to smoking weed in their otherwise completely tame and well-behaved blogs, I do NOT feel like having my foot fetish and full details of my sexual history spread all over my entire group of friends, which incidently includes my parents and friends of my parents, and I would not be surprised if any of my friends are still friends with our teachers from school. Those who I choose can know that I like being cropped and worshipping feet, everyone else doesn't need to know.

- No. We have been over this. I did once, I won't again, and that night was with the assistance of enough vodka to tip a bull and some whacky tobaccy to switch my ethics to OFF.

- No. What am I supposed to do, internalize everything? Try to meet friends into the same stuff as me without using a website AIMED at just that? I made it clear from the get-go that I may be submissive in the sexual sense, but in the non-sexual sense I don't take anyone's shit and asking me to give up something that I enjoy is at the least a nice big 'State Of The Union, Or Why You Won't Fucking Ask Me To Change Something That Doesn't Harm You For You' chat. Worst case scenario of asking me to change something like this? The boot, up the ass and out the door. I'd rather be depressed over a breakup than depressed because my urge to talk is being REPRESSED.


But I don't know how to tell him.

'Oh, and by the way darling, I've been writing about our sex for all the net to see since we started dating. They've seen me naked a few times too. Love yas!'

Yeah, right.

Times like this I wish I was still just a slut. Nobody cared if I did fuck all on the internet back then, long as I was good at giving head.

Frustrations

Life is spiraling back down lately, and with it goes my mood. Lately, I've had more mood swings than I used to, and I don't like it at all. But this time, at least, I can pinpoint the majority of the reasons behind it.

1) We came awfully close to being evicted, all because my fiance's best friend ignored him when he told him to turn his amp down when playing guitar, so I got bombarded with phone calls and shit while I was at work and wound up crying in the change room for a little bit. NOT how a girl wants to spend her work time.

2) I came down with swollen tonsils, sore throat, congestion, and all that fun stuff the next day. And woke up the day after that with a horrible toothache. I'm typing now and not curled up in a corner whimpering because of Oragel. The tonsils are kinda coming and going, throat's only sore after I cough, but the cough I developed Friday/Saturday is worse than the toothache, and my ribs are so fucking sore.

3) Friday night our bathtub drain got clogged. It still isn't clear. Someone should be by tomorrow or the next day to unclog it, but it's driving me NUTS. ><; I want to take a fucking shower!

4) My laptop is being cruel and unusual. *Cries*

5) ...No sex. *Cries* Vibrators just aren't the same when you want to be pounded into and then cuddled in the aftermath.


In other news, that doesn't depress me...

On Monday, at work, I talked to a man for a good hour. At first it seemed fine and normal to me, he was nice and young so I had no problems answering questions about myself (Unlike questions from men my fathers age, which, while it may be biased, always freaks me a bit that they're asking about my sex life - My mind tries to superimpose my fathers face over theirs, and then I have to control the impulse to scream)...And then my little internal creep-dar started beeping. I don't know why the damn thing didn't kick in until then (Unless the cold syrup is the reason), but I started feeling on my guard. After several failed attempts at hitting on me later, and one insistence that his comment about how, if I ever want to fuck a man up the ass, I should call him, was a joke...He left. And then my mind started screaming about how I shouldn't tell strangers who know where I work so much about myself so freely. With people I talk to online it's different (Although I still refuse to give out my name), but he walked in off the street, a total stranger.

And now I'm scared, because he knows where I work and looking back he seemed rather...Intense. Focused. And while that can turn me on sometimes, with someone like him it just puts my hackles up.

What if this guy is like the boy that I had far too close of an experience with when I was sixteen? As it is, only one day do I leave the store alone at night, and now that the days are getting longer, when I leave on that solitary day the sun's still setting. I walk by multiple open businesses to get to my bus stop, one of which is a gas station so close to the bus stop that I can have conversations with the people working there while waiting for my bus. So why am I so worried, again?

Because I can't remember if I told him what area of town I live in. And there's only one mall in that area of town, and I definitely go there often...So I'm nervous. That he'll take the creepy an extra level.

I need to either calm my paranoia or do something about it...


Aside from that, I've been growing out the hair on my mound as a whim (Keeping the lips shaved, though, for some reason feeling my own hair brush my inner thighs squicks me out), and I'm starting to quite like it. Plus now if anyone who knows me intimately asks, yes, yes I do have naturally auburn hair. I'm still getting used to feeling it with my fingers though. But I do like it.

I bought several things from work on Friday and Saturday, not the least of which was a lovely Spartacus riding crop, but I'll babble on about those in their own post sometime in the next couple days.

Gypsy

On Dominance, Submission, And Etcetera.

When I first skirted into the land of sex, despite all evidence to the contrary, I was quick to claim myself to be dominant. I never really took control, I never suggested anything, I never did anything...But I claimed to be dominant. I was pretty much full-blown-you-can-have-control submissive, but I refused to admit to it. It took 1.5 years and an experience with being asked to dominate and realizing I didn't know HOW to go about it before I came to terms with being submissive.

I've always been curious, since then, why I couldn't handle the thought of submission. My best guess is that it has something to do with how my father was acting around that point in time, the way he was treating my mother and I at that point in time. I saw the way my mother would defer to his assholishness and vow to never be that submissive. I didn't quite get that there was a difference, a marked difference, in being submissive out of fear and being submissive out of desire.

Never mind that my most frequent fantasies usually involved myself being tentacle-raped, or forced into sex by strangers, or flogged, I identified as a domme.

At least, until my first experience with someone who wanted me to take control. Then I floundered, shook, and luckily he was able to see that, not press it, and take over. Which was just fine with me, and I have maintained a contentedly submissive position to this day, brief experience dating another submissive not-withstanding. The moment a guy showed himself to be dominant, I was already trying to figure out how well we'd mesh. Although even with this, I only have had three dominants actually dominating me offline (and one online, but that ended within three days of beginning), and a whole lot of guys who were more submissive but were good at giving me what I wanted (to be treated rough and tossed around a bit, and then cuddled). One of those dominants, I'm getting married to.

It would just figure that it's when I'm finally in a happy, long-term, at the moment in our personal hopes, dreams, and foreseeable version of the future til-death-do-us-part relationship with the guy I was hoping I'd find all along, that my sexual desires took a turn from pure submissive spank-slut.

My little inner domme is getting stronger and stronger. She wants to wield the whip, crop, and paddle now. She wants to be worshiped and leave marks. And she isn't shutting up.

Take this, add in a not-at-all-submissive fiance (except when he's getting a handjob, then I'm in full control since he's too busy writhing around to give orders), and you have a complicated situation, pushed further by my intense-if-ignorable interest in pegging.

An interest that, for the time being, is not being brought up. It's something that makes me glad he doesn't even know I have this blog - and if he does know, he's doing me the kind favour of not mentioning it. I like my privacy, a fact he knows all too well.

But sometimes, I wish...I wish I were strong enough to say that I really want something. It took 9 months, 3 of which had a book in blatant hint-sending display, him saying something, and then him doing something for it to come out that I want to try fisting. I don't do well with opening up about my more 'out there' interests.

Hell, he's going to have to draw his own conclusions about my complete willingness to randomly start giving him foot massages, not to mention the fact that I've licked his foot. Willingly. Mainly because he thinks foot fetishes are gross, and, well, I have a foot fetish. I pretty much hump air/the bed while giving him massages. The combination promises to evolve into a very interesting conversation when it finally gets brought up, that will likely culminate in 'Well, I want to be worshiping YOUR feet, I'm not asking you to start licking mine. Just enjoy the damn massages and worship', since I have never seen why anyone would have a problem with someone wanting to give their feet that much attention. Hey, fuck, massages feel good and tongues feel pretty damn nice too. And I use nice lotion and give good pedicures. Hell knows if someone wanted to pamper my feet that much, I'd be a very content little lady.

Let's not even get into the golden-shower fantasy that keeps springing up, since I'm not even into those. They just keep popping up thanks to the taboo.

That all said, I AM quite happy. A bit frustrated, but happy all the same.

Although some days I'm still quite tempted to bring up that one of the guys I had an online thing with before we started dating is a furry, just to see his reaction. I am guessing at it being along these lines: o_O;;;;;;;

To which, I will be responding '...Hey, there is NOTHING wrong with wanting to yiff, and seeing as he understood it just wasn't my thing and instead indulged my fondness for naked men holding weaponry, I don't see what the issue is with me dating a furry. Plus his fursona is drop-dead-sexy.'

I dunno. I think I just live for making my laddie go 'WHAT THE FUCK?!?', and now that he's gotten used to me showing him extreme stuff on Modblog, I have to up the ante. Eventually, I will have hopefully gotten him to the point where nothing will squick him out.

Although having kids in three years will likely do that just as well. From what I know from my goddaughter, kids do wonders for raising ones tolerance of what once made ones stomach turn cartwheels at a mere suggestion.

I seem to be developing quite the skills when it comes to going off on tangents here. I attribute this partly to the fact that, where I focused on the less-shocking fantasies and real-life encounters when I began this blog, now I am more interested in actually sharing my thoughts and such. It's still so very sex-centric, but reading back, in a different way.

As the lines of communication open in my bedroom, so does my writing on here. Maybe it's time to bring up that foot fetish. See what I write here next time.

Ah, well, waiting a bit won't hurt any.

Have a gooder.

- Gypsy

Unholy Unvirgin

I am your holy virgin,
Be gentle all the time.
I am your holy virgin,
I'll blow your mind.

It is 12:49 in the morning. I face a massive obstacle of a disaster-area bedroom. I am also horny. Already having gotten myself off once, with average results, and a pulsating desire left in my mind and my clit. I need to tackle this disaster so that I can either go to sleep or go make tea, a sammich, and take a long, sensuality-restoring bath with two different vibrators before he gets home.

Home.

It's odd to call it home.

Especially when it looks like this:


I want to get this organized, and kinked up...

I want him to come home...

I want him to pin me to the bed and take what's his, every last bit of my body as his. I want a beating...Thorough beating...I want marks, I want teeth...I want him...

I am your holy virgin,
And if you touch me right,
I'll be your nasty virgin