I've finally figured it out! It's not depression I am going through, nor a bout of simply feeling sorry for myself. No, what I am experiencing is sex withdrawl. Yes, apparently it is running rampid in the Niagara Region as people just aren't getting enough of it. It's most commonly seen in clients when thier favorite SP takes a hiatus, my case being quite rare in that I am the SP suffering sexual withdrawl symptoms. I've heard about this disease and it's quite traumatic.
Several clients of mine have come to me displaying the same characteristics in the past. Sleeplessness, mental cloudiness, irritability, restlessness all being primary but severe cases are accompanied with headaches (from constantly dwelling on the sex you're not having), unusual dreams of motels in obscure locations, obsessive/compulsive sexual thoughts involving most everyone around you and from time to time a case will present itself as Tourettes where sexual innuendoes are voiced inappropriately or even worse....one begins to act on those sexual compulsions like grabbing a stranger and thrusting oneself upon them. (As a side note....if this ever happens to you and the woman throwing herself at you is a 5'7" red head just oblige her....she's ill and has no control over her actions).
So, what is one to do who suffers from this condition? Is there a cure, even a home remedy to supress the symptoms? I used to dread turning 30. The thought of being "thirty-something" terified the hell out of me. When I was twenty-something, thirty was old! But I can honestly say I did not have this sexual appetiete then that I do now. I would listen often to gents who dabble in the hobby from time to time. Most are unable to frequent the company of an escort as often as they would like be it for reasons of money, family or time and quite often would say that the duration between visits are so hard because the hobby is addicting. I now understand what they meant. It's not much different from my perpective either. Giving up sex AND smoking was a little too much to ask of myself so one of them has to give. Smoking is bad for my health, sex on the other hand.......
Thursday, November 15, 2007
back to school...and other random musings
Have any of you realized that there is just 1 week left before kids hit the books? Or have you all realized it and I am the only one that is pulling her head out of her ass wondering where the summer went? This week was crazy getting my kids ready. Books, pencils, erasers, calculators (yes a requirement now, remember the days of sneaking them into class? Gawd that made me sound old ) and for my 13 year old......her high school uniform. I tell ya, working for a living sucks.... as does the pay.
It didn't take long to remind myself of what it is like to bargain shop, cut coupons and plan ahead for costly occasions and school is no exception! Not that I have ever been one to spend money frivilously, but it was kinda nice to not spend the better part of my days balancing a chequebook. If something was needed, I bought it...that day. No crunching the numbers by giving up the Gilette triple blade razors and going with disposables so the kids could eat pizza once a week for the month. While I will never forget my days of welfare and food banks, I will also never forget my days of spur of the moment shopping...... just because I could. All in all I will always be thankful for things I never had and things I have no more. It's what keeps me driven, keeps me grounded and gives balance to my life. What am I saying......working for a living sucks, no matter how I look at it!
So, the oldest of mine has to adjust to the Catholic uniform thing now. Stop right there, this is my daughter okay? She's not impressed by the shirt being tucked in nor the polishable black shoes that are mandatory. 2 hours were spent in the school clothing shop. She whined, I smiled. Why is it us mother's take such pleasure in our teenager's pain? Oh yes, now I remember. Perhaps because any time we give them crap about something we hear the same old "I don't care" routine. I am pleased to see there is something that she cares about. Whine away oh hormonal one, whine away.
My house is still a disaster. Well, my kitchen anyways. It's been two months and I can't get hold of my electrician. There is not another step I can take without having the wiring completed. Although I took matters in my own hands because I was sick of trying to maneuver around the room. I have two doorways in the kitchen, one I needed to close off to make the kitchen more functional. Promises were made to get it done many months ago and it's still not done so I fixed the problem myself. No, I don't know how to build a wall but I bought a sheet of drywall and put it over the doorway to cover it up and put my fridge in front of it for now. Atleast I can access all of my cabinets now without a ladder and entering my kitchen no longer runs the risk of a slab of granite shanking your side. It's only been almost 6 moths I've been working on this damn room!
Work is good, it's my place for mental relief. I need to work 8 hours just to keep my sanity some days. I don't have to think about anything really and that is a blessing. The worst time for me is as I'm laying in bed. I think too much and end up waking more tired than when I layed down. So long as my plan to never sleep and work 22 hours of the day holds up I should be just fine. Any other suggestions? Between doctors, kids, school, smoking and the Homers of the world I really do feel at times that I am losing my mind. Surely I will have to sleep sometime.
I have a few entries coming up, notably the fact that Belle is now 2 and also an interesting commentary about another blog I recently stumbled across. It seems I am not the only blogger out there just trying to get through the journey unscathed. Her writing was quite interesting and hopefully I will get to posting about it in the next day or two. As for right now, I am off to bed. Not to sleep, no, that seldom happens. I will undress, slip under my duvet, group my kingsized down-filled pillow into my stomach and I will think. I will tell myself to stop it, that I need to sleep but without a doubt, and hour from the time I lay my head I will still be there fighting to get some shuteye. Once I do drift off I will have some outrageous dream (surely due to the random thoughts before drifting off) then wake up unsettled. And so it goes.
It didn't take long to remind myself of what it is like to bargain shop, cut coupons and plan ahead for costly occasions and school is no exception! Not that I have ever been one to spend money frivilously, but it was kinda nice to not spend the better part of my days balancing a chequebook. If something was needed, I bought it...that day. No crunching the numbers by giving up the Gilette triple blade razors and going with disposables so the kids could eat pizza once a week for the month. While I will never forget my days of welfare and food banks, I will also never forget my days of spur of the moment shopping...... just because I could. All in all I will always be thankful for things I never had and things I have no more. It's what keeps me driven, keeps me grounded and gives balance to my life. What am I saying......working for a living sucks, no matter how I look at it!
So, the oldest of mine has to adjust to the Catholic uniform thing now. Stop right there, this is my daughter okay? She's not impressed by the shirt being tucked in nor the polishable black shoes that are mandatory. 2 hours were spent in the school clothing shop. She whined, I smiled. Why is it us mother's take such pleasure in our teenager's pain? Oh yes, now I remember. Perhaps because any time we give them crap about something we hear the same old "I don't care" routine. I am pleased to see there is something that she cares about. Whine away oh hormonal one, whine away.
My house is still a disaster. Well, my kitchen anyways. It's been two months and I can't get hold of my electrician. There is not another step I can take without having the wiring completed. Although I took matters in my own hands because I was sick of trying to maneuver around the room. I have two doorways in the kitchen, one I needed to close off to make the kitchen more functional. Promises were made to get it done many months ago and it's still not done so I fixed the problem myself. No, I don't know how to build a wall but I bought a sheet of drywall and put it over the doorway to cover it up and put my fridge in front of it for now. Atleast I can access all of my cabinets now without a ladder and entering my kitchen no longer runs the risk of a slab of granite shanking your side. It's only been almost 6 moths I've been working on this damn room!
Work is good, it's my place for mental relief. I need to work 8 hours just to keep my sanity some days. I don't have to think about anything really and that is a blessing. The worst time for me is as I'm laying in bed. I think too much and end up waking more tired than when I layed down. So long as my plan to never sleep and work 22 hours of the day holds up I should be just fine. Any other suggestions? Between doctors, kids, school, smoking and the Homers of the world I really do feel at times that I am losing my mind. Surely I will have to sleep sometime.
I have a few entries coming up, notably the fact that Belle is now 2 and also an interesting commentary about another blog I recently stumbled across. It seems I am not the only blogger out there just trying to get through the journey unscathed. Her writing was quite interesting and hopefully I will get to posting about it in the next day or two. As for right now, I am off to bed. Not to sleep, no, that seldom happens. I will undress, slip under my duvet, group my kingsized down-filled pillow into my stomach and I will think. I will tell myself to stop it, that I need to sleep but without a doubt, and hour from the time I lay my head I will still be there fighting to get some shuteye. Once I do drift off I will have some outrageous dream (surely due to the random thoughts before drifting off) then wake up unsettled. And so it goes.
Meaningless sex
I have been venturing out with my writing, extending my possibilities to include some freelancing. While doing research for an article I came across a very interesting website dedicated to erotic writers. In the forum section the question was raised, “What are your thoughts on meaningless sex?”
Well, needless to say I had a few opinions on the topic. As I read through the replies, keeping in mind that this is an aspiring writer’s website I was appalled at the close-minded responses! The imagination of one’s mind is limitless, so why is it that time and time again when it comes to topics like this that are so intimate and personal, can writers not seem to delve a little deeper without becoming so defensive to answer in a tone that may step outside of what would be expected? Is that not what makes a great writer? To write so passionately that your readers are drawn into your world, where they feel a part of each letter you have typed? How are you able to do this if you cannot believe in what you write?
This, I suppose, is why I do not care for love stories. Quite frankly, they are boring and they certainly are not any more a part of reality than would be a story of two strangers meeting in a hotel room and having the most passionate sexual relationship. Okay, the latter may be a reality for some of us. But for some reason the typical love story that sells is all about beaches, blue skies, rose petals on the bed sheets and an “I love you” after sex. Anyways, back to the question of meaningless sex. Here are a few responses I read:
"Acting on the belief that sex is meaningless or that sex is just sex just might wreck your life, give you a life crisis you don't want, impact your life in ways you might not want, or just ruin you life."
"I understand the principle of meaningless sex but I'm not absolutely sure it can be applied universally without any pre-conditions."
"If I don't feel something for the person I'm not going to have sex with them. For the people that need attention get a dog and have some respect for yourself."
"Don't do it. It will leave you feeling even more lonely and empty."
"I cannot agree that for women there can be 'meaningless sex'. Even a hooker has some emotional involvement."
This one was the best:
"Sex with some one other than my husband? Trusting some one enough to get naked in front of them? Fumbling though foreplay wondering how hard is too hard for this particular cock? Wondering weather some of my little tricks are a bit too exotic and whether he's going to think I'm a slut because I know so much? Putting up with a lover that doesn't know what I want? NO THANKS!"
Of course, there were a few that did seem to “get it”. One even made a very valid point that if it was meaningless we wouldn’t bother to do it, therefore to some degree all sex has meaning. I suppose meaningless may be the wrong word to explain the type of sexual encounters in escorting but let me ask you…..“What does meaningless sex mean to you? Is it possible? Do you hold any emotional attachment to your casual sex partners, paid or not?”
Well, needless to say I had a few opinions on the topic. As I read through the replies, keeping in mind that this is an aspiring writer’s website I was appalled at the close-minded responses! The imagination of one’s mind is limitless, so why is it that time and time again when it comes to topics like this that are so intimate and personal, can writers not seem to delve a little deeper without becoming so defensive to answer in a tone that may step outside of what would be expected? Is that not what makes a great writer? To write so passionately that your readers are drawn into your world, where they feel a part of each letter you have typed? How are you able to do this if you cannot believe in what you write?
This, I suppose, is why I do not care for love stories. Quite frankly, they are boring and they certainly are not any more a part of reality than would be a story of two strangers meeting in a hotel room and having the most passionate sexual relationship. Okay, the latter may be a reality for some of us. But for some reason the typical love story that sells is all about beaches, blue skies, rose petals on the bed sheets and an “I love you” after sex. Anyways, back to the question of meaningless sex. Here are a few responses I read:
"Acting on the belief that sex is meaningless or that sex is just sex just might wreck your life, give you a life crisis you don't want, impact your life in ways you might not want, or just ruin you life."
"I understand the principle of meaningless sex but I'm not absolutely sure it can be applied universally without any pre-conditions."
"If I don't feel something for the person I'm not going to have sex with them. For the people that need attention get a dog and have some respect for yourself."
"Don't do it. It will leave you feeling even more lonely and empty."
"I cannot agree that for women there can be 'meaningless sex'. Even a hooker has some emotional involvement."
This one was the best:
"Sex with some one other than my husband? Trusting some one enough to get naked in front of them? Fumbling though foreplay wondering how hard is too hard for this particular cock? Wondering weather some of my little tricks are a bit too exotic and whether he's going to think I'm a slut because I know so much? Putting up with a lover that doesn't know what I want? NO THANKS!"
Of course, there were a few that did seem to “get it”. One even made a very valid point that if it was meaningless we wouldn’t bother to do it, therefore to some degree all sex has meaning. I suppose meaningless may be the wrong word to explain the type of sexual encounters in escorting but let me ask you…..“What does meaningless sex mean to you? Is it possible? Do you hold any emotional attachment to your casual sex partners, paid or not?”
Simple question: You or them?
I need some advice here. I know you have all found yourself in my shoes at least once in your lifetime so there is no excuse to not respond to this post! Here's the situation. Belle, while living a legal lifestyle has chosen a lifestyle that is frowned upon in society. I made a conscious decision 2 years ago to not hide escorting from those in my personal life. With that being said I will point out that I never made it a point to openly discuss with friends or family my decision to become an escort, but when questioned about my activities I never denied it nor did I try to explain it away by pleading that it was my only option at the time. In doing so, I have lost alot that has meant alot. Not only the respect of my family, but any relationship I had with them prior to their knowledge of Belle.
In return for what I lost, I gained self respect. I have talked alot about this so I wont go into any further deatil about how wonderful escorting has been to my life in a very personal way. With my marriage falling apart my fear was that my experiences as Belle would lead to a battle in the courts about my parenting skills, hence my abrupt retirement. My kids are my life and I need to protect them as I always have and always will. I have been assured by my lawyer that I could face no legal recourse for escorting and could not face losing my children based solely on that circumstance. I did not find his words to be any more comforting though. In November when my mother and sister were made aware of Belle, they called the authorities. It was never brought up to me, the topic was never discussed. FACS made their rounds and determined my kids were very well adjusted children. I provide a safe home, warm clothing and all other necessities as expected of any parent. I did not fear their evaluation as I have never doubted myself as a mother. I screw up, yes. But I always do my best for them.
So my question is this. What if your SO, your mother, your co-workers, your neighbors, your friends discovered what you dabble in from time to time. I think I know the answer, and there is no right or wrong answer but I am wondering if I took my "I am woman hear me roar" routine a little too far. Is it wrong that I stand by my decision to be an escort? Did I get too caught up in this new person I have found within myself and give up more that what I should have been willing to give up?
Where do we draw the line between standing up for what we believe in, even when it hurts those closest to us? Do we protect them, or ourselves? I am not saying that each of you that are married should be running to your spouses and confessing your activities. Sometimes the truth isn't the best policy. I am just saying, have you not had times in your life when you went against the grain because it was something you need to do for yourself even though it would be met with some conflict in your life? Just looking for some thoughts out there is all.
In return for what I lost, I gained self respect. I have talked alot about this so I wont go into any further deatil about how wonderful escorting has been to my life in a very personal way. With my marriage falling apart my fear was that my experiences as Belle would lead to a battle in the courts about my parenting skills, hence my abrupt retirement. My kids are my life and I need to protect them as I always have and always will. I have been assured by my lawyer that I could face no legal recourse for escorting and could not face losing my children based solely on that circumstance. I did not find his words to be any more comforting though. In November when my mother and sister were made aware of Belle, they called the authorities. It was never brought up to me, the topic was never discussed. FACS made their rounds and determined my kids were very well adjusted children. I provide a safe home, warm clothing and all other necessities as expected of any parent. I did not fear their evaluation as I have never doubted myself as a mother. I screw up, yes. But I always do my best for them.
So my question is this. What if your SO, your mother, your co-workers, your neighbors, your friends discovered what you dabble in from time to time. I think I know the answer, and there is no right or wrong answer but I am wondering if I took my "I am woman hear me roar" routine a little too far. Is it wrong that I stand by my decision to be an escort? Did I get too caught up in this new person I have found within myself and give up more that what I should have been willing to give up?
Where do we draw the line between standing up for what we believe in, even when it hurts those closest to us? Do we protect them, or ourselves? I am not saying that each of you that are married should be running to your spouses and confessing your activities. Sometimes the truth isn't the best policy. I am just saying, have you not had times in your life when you went against the grain because it was something you need to do for yourself even though it would be met with some conflict in your life? Just looking for some thoughts out there is all.
A woman's thread
Now being made aware of my morality I began to panic a few weeks ago when my left breast became tender to the touch. I left it until Monday when I finally boked an apointment with my family doctor. He didn't seem too concerned but set up a mammogram and ultrasound appointment just to check things out. I'm sure things are fine, likely a pulled muscle but I have to tell you about the visit for the mammogram.
I spent the 20 minutes in the waiting room kind of chuckling at the thought of a nurse trying to find enough breats tissue to compress in the boob vice. My name is called and I am shown the changing area where I was handed a gown. Dressed appropriately the technician leads me into the room and asks me to remove the gown. She likely expected me to be nervous so as she was preparing the films she talked me through the process. Little does she know I am more than comfortable being naked in the presence of another woman.
I told her she was about to face a challenge as I was giving her little to work with. "No worries" she responds, again probably trying to make me feel less self conscious. So. I am standing at the machiene. For those of you that have never had the pleasure of breast screening, you remain standing, the technician places your breast on a metal plate and uses her foot to control a pedal that lowers the upper plate onto the top of your breast, compressing the tissue to be xrayed.
I walk up to the plate and all I am able to rest on the plate is a perky nipple. It was kinda funny actually, I had to ask her if I should pull it a little or what she neded me to do. "Just relax and I will position you" she says. "Ok, if you insist" I thought. So there I stood while she fondled my breast. Ok, she was doing her job but it felt like fondling to me. In fact, I found this process so amusing I tried to drag it on as long as I could. She had me bending over slighly, lowering my shoulder as she stood at my side grabbing tissue from what felt like my collar bone area just to get some flesh on the plate. Pulling tightly she managed to get enough skin to press between the plates as she stepped on the pedal to begin the compression. Although I think she cheated. She was pulling so damn hard I am sure much of that flesh was borrowed from my cheeks.
She walked away to take the picture just as I was looking down to see my nipple squashed against the upper plastic plate. I wouldn't say the experience was totally enjoyable but it did turn me on a little. I mean, I have never been into bondage or S&M by any means but what's the harm in a little resistance? It would have been much more enjoyable had I another woman knelt down below me to counteract the nipple stimulation but even without, it was something I did not expect to find arousing. Problem now is, I think I lost a size from the time I walked into the office. Any more of those and I will have to change my name to Bill.Now on Thursday I get to have my breasts fondled yet again during my ultrasound. Rumour has it it is a much more intimate setting and the technician brings her own heated KY Jelly! Wonder if I'm allowed to bring my pocket rocket? Yes, this is what my life has come to since leaving escorting. Any bets on how long my retirement will last? Likely not any longer than this smoking BS. When I start to fantasize about medical imaging equipment I think I need to draw the line!
I spent the 20 minutes in the waiting room kind of chuckling at the thought of a nurse trying to find enough breats tissue to compress in the boob vice. My name is called and I am shown the changing area where I was handed a gown. Dressed appropriately the technician leads me into the room and asks me to remove the gown. She likely expected me to be nervous so as she was preparing the films she talked me through the process. Little does she know I am more than comfortable being naked in the presence of another woman.
I told her she was about to face a challenge as I was giving her little to work with. "No worries" she responds, again probably trying to make me feel less self conscious. So. I am standing at the machiene. For those of you that have never had the pleasure of breast screening, you remain standing, the technician places your breast on a metal plate and uses her foot to control a pedal that lowers the upper plate onto the top of your breast, compressing the tissue to be xrayed.
I walk up to the plate and all I am able to rest on the plate is a perky nipple. It was kinda funny actually, I had to ask her if I should pull it a little or what she neded me to do. "Just relax and I will position you" she says. "Ok, if you insist" I thought. So there I stood while she fondled my breast. Ok, she was doing her job but it felt like fondling to me. In fact, I found this process so amusing I tried to drag it on as long as I could. She had me bending over slighly, lowering my shoulder as she stood at my side grabbing tissue from what felt like my collar bone area just to get some flesh on the plate. Pulling tightly she managed to get enough skin to press between the plates as she stepped on the pedal to begin the compression. Although I think she cheated. She was pulling so damn hard I am sure much of that flesh was borrowed from my cheeks.
She walked away to take the picture just as I was looking down to see my nipple squashed against the upper plastic plate. I wouldn't say the experience was totally enjoyable but it did turn me on a little. I mean, I have never been into bondage or S&M by any means but what's the harm in a little resistance? It would have been much more enjoyable had I another woman knelt down below me to counteract the nipple stimulation but even without, it was something I did not expect to find arousing. Problem now is, I think I lost a size from the time I walked into the office. Any more of those and I will have to change my name to Bill.Now on Thursday I get to have my breasts fondled yet again during my ultrasound. Rumour has it it is a much more intimate setting and the technician brings her own heated KY Jelly! Wonder if I'm allowed to bring my pocket rocket? Yes, this is what my life has come to since leaving escorting. Any bets on how long my retirement will last? Likely not any longer than this smoking BS. When I start to fantasize about medical imaging equipment I think I need to draw the line!
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