Which Words Do You Use Online That You Would Never Use IRL?
So you may have heard of that giant storm on Sunday that knocked out the power in DC? I’m still in the middle of that, having to roam about with my Acer and beat back the hordes who are fighting over every available wall plug in every coffee shop with free wifi. It’s a bit like defending yourself against a pack of wolves, only they have laptops.
Anyways, since this hasn’t allowed me much time to write anything sexy, here’s a little bit of fluff:
There are some words you’ll often see me write, but will (almost) never hear me say:
Everyone that follows me on Twitter is a peep because I have entirely failed when it comes to finding a word to encompass all sluts/vanillas/gender variables/etc. On the internet, peeps are cute. In real life, it sounds like I’m emulating a gangsta rapper, which is not so cute.
2. Non-gendered pronouns.
I adore the non-gendered pronoun. It neatly solves the problem of what to call someone who identifies as both genders, or neither, or allows you to be polite when you’re unsure. Outside of Winter Fire, I have very little occassion to use it and am unsure how to pronounce it. I wish the term was more mainstream so I could bring it up in conversation without having to explain what it is.
Conversely, there are terms I say IRL that you will seldom see me write online:
Unless I’m at work, I swear like a sailor. I adore the word fuck and all its range of meanings. I’ll even use it when I’m not particularly angry or alarmed: “C’mon, toast, fucking toast already”.
I have once or twice said “LOL” in public (pronounced “lull”). I am well aware that this lapse means if I ever get a chance to meet Girl With A One Track Mind in person and praise her for her work, she will refuse to speak to me.
3. Both in real life and online, I’ll use “bondage” as a verb. As in, "Let’s bondage him to the bed!"
What kinds of verbal/written quirks do you have, either online or off?
Whereas, if I look at the kink conference you covered, well, I will be honest with you: There were a lot of videos you posted that I was just like, “nope! Not gonna open that one!” There were a lot of things that I consider gross and un-sexy going on there, such as: homemade Harry Potter erotica.
AMANDA: Haha. Right? But crusading to wipe it clean of this Earth, citing The Children, is another position entirely.
SADY: But who am I to come between you and the turgid purple manhood of Severus Snape?
The thing is, in all my years as a sex educator and writer, one of the things I’ve learned is that the kind of perfection we think might come from the most amazing sex life in our imaginations — having “perfect” mind-blowing sex — does not make you into everything you need to be whole. It can be a big part of our striving for completeness, absolutely. For some it’s the cornerstone of finally having their life be their own. But don’t buy the illusion that magical orgasms or decadent debauchery or puzzle-piece-perfect monogamous sex is that unattainable thing that if you just could unlock its secrets, you would be — whole, happy, made of light and money and love.
There will always be heartbreak. And it will hurt… and then it won’t. The wind is howling outside here in San Francisco with such force that it was making it hard for people to walk down the street outside my apartment. The cat is sleeping in the middle of the bed as if he does not need to share it with me. More deadlines loom as I fuck around writing a LiveJournal post on my professional blog. These things are how life goes on, and will continue to as I breathe around heartbreak. I’ll always have it, until I find that thing that makes it easier. If I do. Meanwhile, the cat will continue to hog the bed, and I will continue to write. Sometimes it will hurt, and sometimes I will forget all about it. Life is bigger than my missing piece.
The room had a dresser full of clean sheets and pillowcases at the ready, and a sign in it that said “Please change the sheets when you are done.” Which sounds sleazy, but the room was super clean, the walls were painted light blue, and there were the same decorative things on the walls you’d expect in a bed and breakfast.
You could also hear fucking from the room next door. I smirked as I wrote “MOLLY REN IS HERE” on the whiteboard outside the door that indicated the room was being used.
I had a boy with me. I pushed him down on the bed, smacked his nipples, and left a chain of bites from his hip to his shoulder. I hadn’t known you could actually have sex at the BDSM party (most have a ”naked, but no penetration” rule), so I hadn’t brought my strap-on. But I did have my usual latex gloves, and he had some lube, so I was ready to improvise.
"Turn over," I said, for I’d talked to him before, and knew about his favorite thing. He lay on the bed face down, ass up, and I slipped on a glove and played with his soft hanging tummy while I fingered his ass. I had an easier time slipping inside him than I’d ever had with anyone. Between me gripping his soft sides and the fast rhythm of my fingers I soon had five fingers inside him. Soon he squirted all over the bed.
"Aw!" I said, "your dick is piebald!" Though we’d talked before, I’d never seen him with all his clothes off until now. "It’s the… argh, you told me, but I forgot…"
We stripped the sheets and replaced them, working together to put the fitted sheet on. I turned to say something to him and stopped in surprise. The bite under his nipple looked different, and I turned him around to see everything. I hadn’t broken the skin, but everywhere I’d bitten him, scratched him, or put firm pressure on him had puffed up in a kind of raised design.
-Dominance can’t be about always being in control. Life is serendipitous and throws all manner of adversity at us; even the strongest are off-balance at times. It is arguable that if you are always in control you’re not risking enough. No worthwhile race is won without risk.
-Dominance can’t be about always taking the most effective course of action. We all make mistakes and sometimes must explore many directions in order to find the most effective choice. In fact, success is impossible without mistakes.
-Dominance certainly isn’t simply about kink and sex. I was adept a few years ago as a sensual dominant but as stated, my life was a mess.
Perhaps the question to be asked is what does the naked and hopefully submissive nymph below need in a man?
“Sex and food. Food and sex. I don’t know about you, but I’m sick of the two being combined in some horrible spiral of shame. Food is not sinful. Lust is not sinful. AdultFriendFinder is not a cesspool of perversion. Doing these things - enjoying huge amounts of food or conspicuous amounts of sex - does not make one self-destructive, gluttonous, or depraved. Saletans sloppy comparison does not turn me off competitive eating - it just reveals his disgust and distrust of pornography. In drawing the two together, he makes both out to be something threatening, even dangerous. But a group of contestants shoving food into their faces while crowds cheer around is not symbolic of the impending downfall of our civilization. And this is no worse than paying two men to beat each other bloody while spectators urge them on to greater violence. As far as sports go, competitive eating is actually pretty tame. However, I will agree that “conspicuous consumption” might be our weakness, yet when I say that, I’m not referring to hot dogs.”—The New Pornography: Competitive Eating?
The tagline for this story is “As Fat Acceptance Voices Grow Louder, Blogs Celebrate Putting on the Pounds”, which pretty sums up the confusion neatly. As opposed to the NYT story which started it all, Susan Donaldson James attempts a review of all the fat-related things she could find. This results in a more balanced portrayal, but it still seems to equate fat acceptance with feederism, or see one as an offshoot of the other. I think fat acceptance probably *has* influenced feederism, but in my experience we feederists tend to be in our own little world trying to get off rather than pow-wowwing with Kate Harding about activism.
Fat Acceptance isn’t about imposing other people’s rules on your body. Whether you practice HAES (Health At Every Size) or not, your body is not evidence of some moral failing. If you are lazy and self-indulgent and whatever other word you can think of to horrify those hard-working Puritans, your body is STILL not evidence of some moral failing.
“Feederism is a red herring. It doesn’t exist in any meaningful way. I’ve been tuned into the fat admirer community, which has been seriously warped and damaged by feederist interests, to know this very well. Its a pointless thing to waste any time or energy on because it is so close to fictional, it gets fictional’s mail sometimes by accident and walks over to give it back. We are wasting our time on a fantasy with only slightly more of a foot-hold in reality than furries.”—On Feederism, from Red No. 3's blog on “Actual F**king Fat Acceptance”.
So on Friday night I found myself in an (unfortunately) common bind of not knowing what the hell to do with myself over the weekend. Then I was reminded of certain kinky goings-on and went without much hope of anything happening. Instead, I had no less than three cherries busted! In the order of demolition:
1. I had a violet wand used on me for the first time. For those who’ve never heard of a violet wand, it’s like what Nicola Tesla would use to masturbate with, and the boy that used it on me had colored hair and wore a sexy purple formal vest. The only way it could have set off more of my steampunk geek buttons is if we’d then retired to have sex in a dirigible.
2. I licked Hershey’s syrup off of a beautiful girl.
3. I got flogged and discovered to my embarrassment that flogging makes me want to cry like a little girl. Probably the first time in my career of asking people to whack me on purpose that I’ve ever really needed aftercare.
I promise that I will write at length about these things when my eyelids aren’t about to slide shut from exhaustion. In not-exactly current news:
4. The writer of I, Asshole has started a blog where she tries out Victorian recipes. It’s called The Queen’s Scullery, which I think is basically the best name for a Victorian recipe blog ever. It also hasn’t been updated in a while, which leaves me in suspense of the kind only foodies can understand: will the strawberries sink?
6. I’ve been writing my head off, and usually for money. Also I put together a crockpot version of Queen’s Scullery stock and the kitchen is still such a wreck I’m surprised my housemates haven’t yet kicked me out of the house for negligence.
7. I wasn’t going to try to go out and see any 4th of July fireworks, only to discover I could see them pretty well through a gap in the trees near my house.
How about you, readers and lovers? Did you do anything involving cooking, kinking, or the unexpected this past weekend?
For the longest time, I haven’t been able to figure out what to call “those who are into feederism” in the plural. On KinkOnTap, I suggested “feederism people”. Then, of course, there’s “feederism fetishists”. But not everyone thinks of themselves as a “fetishist” anymore, and shouldn’t we have a plural that’s a derviative of the name of the desire itself, like spankos, furries, and Catholics?
Yesderday an angry fat acceptance blogger used a term which, for some reason, I had never seen written out in two years of being on Fantasy Feeder. Finally, I had my word.