‘… I was wrapping up one of the most painful breakups of my life. I’ve had many relationships in two decades—some of them waking me in one way or another, others serious enough we nearly ended up engaged, and still others breaking me in ways that required many years of lightness to heal—but this was different. It was heavier somehow, more real, more intense. If I were to describe my past relationships as watercolor paintings, this one was made of oil—dense with color, small details, and texture, and labored over not just with brushes, but with rags and carving tools that molded the canvas of us. It started as a casual fling that should have meant practically nothing, but in the mere nine months we lasted—including four breakups, three standoffs, and two attempted months of silence—the impact still coursed through my blood and transformed me.’
A post about an unorthodox relationship shaping you in unexpected ways? *Of course* I loved this. What struck me most of all is how it brims with positivity and energy about the whole experience – that reference to ‘the impact still coursed through my blood and transformed me’ is a super-empowered statement.
‘It’s the willfulness that makes me hot. His deliberate, hard strokes as he pushes my head against the back of the sofa. I’m not sucking his dick, I’m being fucked. Barely holding myself together as I splutter and gag and angle myself just right to take him all the way down to the base. To feel the head of his swollen cock thumping against the back of my throat.
Face fucking. Not a blow job. Not doing something, but having it deliberately and precisely done to me.’
Because GOTN writes so well, it’s easy to read about stuff that isn’t your kink and find it hot, which means that when she is writing about your kinks … jeez. This captures perfectly the hotness of giving head as a submissive act – it’s not elegant, or pretty, but god, it’s good.
‘So, this isn’t so much of a blog as it is really a dare. I dare you to wake up one day soon, make a conscious decision to get the hell over your worries and then take yourself out for a meal somewhere you’ve always fancied visiting. I dare you to not worry what strangers might think of you when you walk in and ask for a table for one, before ordering your meal as you sit with a book, newspaper or tablet. I dare you to smile afterwards and realise “hey, I guess that wasn’t so bad!” because it just really isn’t. Remember, these are dares, so don’t forfeit the ability to create your own bliss.’
To get as many people as possible to understand the joys of dining out solo is my personal one-woman mission, so I love it when someone gets on board with it. In this post, Floraidh doesn’t just skim over the things people commonly worry about when eating out alone – she tackles them head on; compares them to bigger worries that most of us have faced at one time or another, and ends on the most important note of all – eating out alone is great, but more importantly – be kind to yourself.
‘On one of my visits to see him, after a night out, he called me into the bathroom, unzipped his fly and told me to hold his cock while he peed. I did as he instructed and at first everything went well but I think it might have been the kissing that distracted me from my task but I discovered that just the smallest movement could have rather alarming consequences. Luckily the hotel bathroom wall was tiled but my ‘license to drive’ (his words, not mine) had been well and truly revoked. (He was also very good about doing the wiping up while I laid on the bed laughing so hard tears ran down my face)’
The complete opposite of the GOTN post above, this is not one of my kinks. What I like about this, though, is less the kink, and more the dynamic it captures between Molly and @Domsigns – the intimacy, the humour, the affection …
‘Of course, you might say I asked for it. To be a writer—to do anything that involves putting oneself out there—is to invite criticism. And if you write about personal stuff, well, what do you expect? I’ve now spent nearly two decades writing about my family, my history, my fears, my anxieties, my spiritual crises, my sorrows, and my joys. I’ve tried to carve out of my own experience books that will resonate with others.’
I don’t worry that the internet hates me, but I am conscious, the more I write, that every time you put yourself out there, you never quite know what the reaction will be. This is a useful reminder not to take the opinions of strangers too personally – it’s about being wary of projection, of other people’s stuff, and taking the constructive criticism on board while letting the rest wash over you. The closing lines ‘And so I close the door. I write these words. I don’t click over to Google to see what people think. In the silence—in the absence of all those voices—here is where I discover who I am,’ resonated.