All work and all plays.

When my work is what I love to do, I can feel like a bit of a whiner when I realize I’m drained.  How could I possibly feel overwhelmed when I’m doing exactly what I love? When even today I cracked open and kicked the shit outta the sticking point of the next theater project I am gonna write, cast it on the spot, came up with the title and successfully pitched it within 30 minutes? Yep. Bad. Ass.

But even the good stuff enervates. The play’s the thing, as the bard said. But wow would it be nice to be able to play in the darker sandlots in which do enjoy romping. Not having a regular partner makes the type of play that really feeds me truly rare, indeed. And that aches, too.

I need more play. Good play. Not just good…paradigm-shifting holy fuck I could die right now and be happy motherfucking hot play with someone I love who loves me back.

There, universe. Gimmie it.

Rehearsals for “Good Goods” are going well. The show opens at the end of the month and the process is rolling along quite nicely.  But even that hurts a bit. The character I’m playing is driven to some seemingly ruthless manipulation by….wait for it…loneliness. Yeah, ouch. But it sure gives me a leg up on my fucking character work.

I’ve been getting up on stage to do my storytelling thing, taking advantage of my stint here in the Bay Area to perform at several events…and it has been fun and felt so great. I even managed to have some new experiences and learn about some new boundaries for myself…emotionally and sexually.  So it ain’t as if I’m sitting around bloody moping. Tonight I sat down to knock out my next column for SexIs, and felt my usually pretty even-keel emotional state shift into hurtiness.

Now, I get sad. And I am learning to accept that. But the sadness that hits abruptly is sometimes so strong it picks up other emotions along the way and becomes an avalanche of feelings that awe me into silence.

As is my wont, I blurted it out and had quite a few “Me, too.” sentiments echo back across the void that loneliness can create.  I am not gonna pretend that I have cornered the market on any emotion, but I could short-sell the fuck out of that empty feeling.

It aches to sit and write a chipper article with helpful hints for how to set the mood in your kink life. Because I am flooded with memories of the simple rituals my first dominant gave me, or the abrupt, dizzying brutality of another play partner whose idea of mood-setting was a slap out of nowhere that left me breathless and laughing and aroused. Brought back a flood of thoughts about how much I have loved and lost and really wondering how much better it is to have done so.  Feeling proud I have stood my ground and not “settled” for a person or situation unsuitable for my needs yet still wistfully wondering why this leaves me gasping on the shore feeling as though my heart is slowly desiccating in this lonely downturn.

Whatevs. What can ya do? It is what it is.

I sometimes hear people say that submissive and slave types are more sensitive to those solo stints. Usually there’s some bullshit “Princess and the Pea” style mojo around it. But i think there may be some truth to it. Not because we are more emotionally vulnerable or evolved. But because we are the sort of people who do better when we are with than when we are without another person to serve as that external focus.The loneliness is therefore compounded by the fact that we aren’t in our optimal configuration when it comes to  moving through the world.

Aaaand I’m rambling now. But I feel better for having given some pixels and bandwidth to the part of me sitting with the discomfort tonight. The part of me that craves the needful energy of exchange and just sits…idling…while that loss is deeply felt.

I guess that makes me human or some shit. Damn it.