Not tidy. Not polished. Still real.

Trusting myself enables me to do truly miraculous things…like trust others.

Trusting others enables us to do truly miraculous things, like make pain transcendent and find new ways to access our souls.

In addition to this past weekend being my second anniversary of being sober (whee!) I was in Chicago to talk about a play-style that many people consider to be pretty edgy, and one I am always walking into with part of my heart quailing apprehensively and shaking with fear.

But now in the fluorescent safety of the Monday morning workday, I think I feel safe in saying: “WIN.”

I’ve done the “Race Play” class a few times now, and even though I am nervous to sickness each and every fucking time I do it, the overwhelmingly positive feedback helps me to see this IS a valuable class for folks.

The GD2 crowd was comprised on a lot of new kinksters, as their outreach mission includes free (!!!!!!) classes with national presenters and so the place brings in people from all over to teach and present.

It was a FULL house, which was awesome. They said it was one of the more well-attended classes they’d hosted.

I initially wasn’t going to do a demo, but it seems the universe has smiled on me of late in that arena. Seems like my Homeboy, Ganesha, has been fucking up many, many obstacles on my behalf…even the ones I put in my own way.

Last I did the Race Play class, Minax was with me in the mix for The Exiles edition, and to all reports she survived it ;-)

Since I was gonna be traveling I wasn’t planning on doing a demo in Chicago but a new “Con-Acquaintance” friend of mine mentioned he was gonna be coming in to town for my GD2 class and would be happy to help if such help was needed.

OK, well…um…sure.

[More like “OMFG are you kidding??? HELLZ YEAH!!” but we wouldn’t want to overfeed his ego, would we?]

Though I haven’t spent much time with Graydancer, I thought him cool and I had one of those gut level things happen.

Non-crunchy people, avert your eyes…

 

You know you meet someone and just feel “OK, yeah, this is one of the Soul Family People, and it is great to have you come around again!” This was one of those. I meet hundreds of people a year and have feelings like that, of immediacy and comfort and such VERY rarely. I try to trust that feeling. It hasn’t yet been wrong.

  

OK, non-crunchy types, you can pick up here again.

So I said “OK, why not!

Mind, I’d only seen him do ropework, and hadn’t played with him before.

But for several reasons, I felt absolutely fine about saying yes.

I scraped together the gumption to send him some of the extra-flowery un-PC bodice ripping period pr0n I’d started writing for The Limey Who Shall Not Be Named back in the day.

Of course I was then all “Shit…he’s gonna hate it and be all “Ugh what is this corny ass shit?!” and then not want anything to do with me at all.”

But that didn’t happen either, so that was a relief.

The class went really really well.

It was one of those deals where I felt very much in touch with the people there, even the ones who were somewhat guarded. And even though the room was hot as FUCK and I was sweating with nerves and not at all sure what was going to happen, I took a deep breath and forged ahead.

If the class was good, the demo was fucking AWESOME.

Well, for me, anyway.

Seriously.

I’d had little clue that I was dealing with someone who was highly adept in role-playing but duh, shoulda known. He is a performer and an instructor, so there is gonna be that advantage.

Plus, he’d totally cheated and was sporting my very favourite style of boots. And he was wearing black leather gloves.

Evidently, this also…uh…works for me.

Who knew?

I honestly couldn’t even LOOK at his feet too long. I’d forgotten about my thing with the boots…how does one forget that objects can become so deeply imbued with their own life that the right person at the right place in the right time can bring that all back again…?

How is it I keep forgetting that I actually really am a pervert?

Gray managed to somehow pull together a scene from the story I’d written and make it work in the context of this demo.

 This is revelatory for me on several levels.

I’m still running through this so please, bear with me, I’m kind of scattered in my thinking. But the writing helps me get it out and hell, while I’m pulling apart this humming burning ball of energy, you might as well peek in :-)

I think it was really remarkable to be able to voice this very simple type of fantasy, not worry that other people would find it either “grindingly offensive ” or, worse yet, “too pedestrian and boring.” Let me say this (I know, kind of surprising) but I’d never even DONE a “Old School master / slave plantation thing” because, well, I know it is the obvious fucking thing to do and I have steered clear of it.

But I figure hey, I might as well have one of my fantasies addressed, yes?

And I am glad I did.

Um, so, the scene.

It was fantastic.

I’d inaccurately calibrated this man’s capacity for cold-bloodedness, so it was a bit of a genuine shock that he was SUCH a BASTARD!

Fucking awesome.

SO, yeah.

I think it is pretty much all I have to say about that right now. I might do a straight-up scene report one of these days, we’ll see how generous I’m feeling about that memory.

Yes, we did play later in the evening, and that was also rather phenomenal.

It is wondrous to me that, no matter how many years I do this, there is always something new that will sneak up on you and fuck your shit up so flawlessly, you can’t do anything except ride it.

I also newly re-discovered was something that I’d already had, but suffered the fate of being squashed down and buried for the past few years.

When I am single and feeling lonely MY default of late has been to walk away from those feelings of longing and let them do their own thing. I don’t want to try to suppress them, not anymore. But I do not want to dwell on what I do not have, because that sets me up in a poor place.

But for lots of reasons Gray was able to get in…just enough…to a few unused places and that lead me back to a simple sweet truth: I love “This.”

All the pain and beatings and bondage and all of that was compressed to one moment where I was prostrated with my cheek and lips against the warm instep of one of his boots, the other boot firmly on the back of my neck and his hand in my hair.

There was an absolutely clear moment of connectedness with the memory of the very first time I’d been in a place like that, almost eleven years ago.

And …sorry crunchy people, but it was one of those sacred moments where you get a revelation. it was this: despite all that had happened, that has happened to me in those years, all of the people that have come and gone, all that I thought I would have and all that I never expected, there IS a place where I can feel safe and even if it doesn’t look like anyone else’s safe space and even if it is just for RIGHT NOW, that is all any of us EVER have.

This moment.

So breathe it in.

It was SO. Huge.

I’m getting all crying and snuffly even as I try to write.

I have absolute faith in my ability to feel, to intuit, to trust when it is right to do so. And that is precious.

Um. Yeah.

Well, massive kudos to Gray, because he let me sob like a dork all over his boots for some amount of time. Dunno know long…you know how that goes.

And hands-down one of the most emotionally attentive people with whom I’ve had the honor to play.

Oh, yes, and *Squee*

Furthermore, my absolute embargo on facial hair has been conditionally lifted.

Of course, the next morning, part of my brain is all “OMG OMG yeah, yeah, OK, I know, I know…you’re not poly and LDRs never work and you DO NOT do LDR shit with D/s for chrissake but OMG this may be your last chance to ever and we are scared to be alone again and blah blah blah blah.”

Chittering. This is one of Bubbles’ excellent new voices. She does fear REALLY well.

But you know, something very different happened.

I was glad to feel that affection, and that openness to being submissive, and all those feelings. I didn’t criticise myself for having them, I tacked to the wind for the impact of sub-space and PMS**

And I enjoyed myself. It felt / feels great.

I’m not afraid. If anything, I am SO happy to have had that scene and those feelings because I haven’t had them in so long.

Rather than freaking out at the prospect of being alone, my thought this morning as I sort through e-mail and try to get to work is this:

These moments are a gift, precious precious precious and to try to shuffle my emotions to suit the external surroundings is hubris.

What is real emotionally is real emotionally.

Nothing less, and nothing more.

I CAN feel, even feel very profoundly, and enjoy that fully, and stand on my own feet afterward, and marvel at the magnificence of it.

I know that right now, I have to be present. By remaining present, I’ll be where I am supposed to be.

And this morning I love myself for that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Ladies: never, never EVER tell a sadist you are PMSing and that your boobs are sore. The likelihood that they will be compassionate and easier on them because of this is abysmally low. Just don’t mention it and hope for the best :-P