Well another Christmas has come and gone. My kids were spoiled as per the usual. And I missed celebrating Christmas with my Nana, as per the usual. It is tough to get through the holidays when you miss having someone special in your life. So I cried, and I laughed and I cried some more but I got through it as I always do.
My daughter was in an accident a few weeks ago. She was hurt but it could have been much more serious. The accident, the phone call I recieved from the officer telling me to go to the emergency room, the sight of her laying there bloody and broken made me see Christmas in a much different light this year. I was reminded just how blessed I am to have my children. Nothing else really matters. I will ache for those I love who are no longer in my life but I will focus on the ones who still are. They are my future, they will keep me going through hard times.
I hope this Christmas all of you reading found some peace, took some time out from the commercialism of Christmas to reflect on how blessed you are for all of the things you do have insteading of yearning for what you do not. Merry Christmas.
xo Belle
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Feminists, give it up already!
With the courts battling the specifics of prostitution; what should be legal, what should not be, I find the most interesting news coverage coming from the feminists and their cohorts who insist that legalizing any form of prostitution is degrading to women. Have you ever taken a close look at these women? I have to wonder how long it has been since any of them have been laid.
Now before you jump down my throat for saying that, take a look at my stats on my website. I am not Barbie nor do I pretend to be. I just wonder what gives these women the right to stand up in court and speak on my behalf about something they clearly know nothing about. I am tired of society telling me what I do is immoral and degrading.
I am not naieve enough to believe this will ever change. Prostitution will always exist, feminists will always exist. I just find it so frustrating to listen to them and imagine all the women of the world nodding their heads in agreement as most of their husbands snicker behind them thinking "if you only knew". No, it's not for everyone and yes, there is a very seedy side to prostitution, I won't argue that fact. Does that make it okay to not give sex-trade workers a safe place to practice? It's been hundreds of years people, women exchanging sex-for-money will never go away! Make it legal, make testing more accessible, make it clean.
I am an escort by choice. I have a full-time well paying job outside of Belle and I am not the exception to the rule. I do this because I enjoy it. Yes, the money is a bonus, I will not argue the fact but it is not a means to an end for me nor for many other sex-trade workers. I am just so tired of listening to whiney, overweight, sex deprived women tell me that what I do is wrong.
I meet with ,men who make me feel better about myself and show me more respect than most partners I have had in my personal life. Why? Because I ask for the respect. We as sex workers have a choice. If we are not comfortable with a client or his wishes, we say so. We can leave at any time, we can refuse at any time. What we do and what we do not do is our choice and ours alone to make. The only difference between our relationships with men as sex-trade workers is that we get paid for it and we do it with complete strangers. But let's face it. Have most people not had sex with a stranger? ||||||Do
Now before you jump down my throat for saying that, take a look at my stats on my website. I am not Barbie nor do I pretend to be. I just wonder what gives these women the right to stand up in court and speak on my behalf about something they clearly know nothing about. I am tired of society telling me what I do is immoral and degrading.
I am not naieve enough to believe this will ever change. Prostitution will always exist, feminists will always exist. I just find it so frustrating to listen to them and imagine all the women of the world nodding their heads in agreement as most of their husbands snicker behind them thinking "if you only knew". No, it's not for everyone and yes, there is a very seedy side to prostitution, I won't argue that fact. Does that make it okay to not give sex-trade workers a safe place to practice? It's been hundreds of years people, women exchanging sex-for-money will never go away! Make it legal, make testing more accessible, make it clean.
I am an escort by choice. I have a full-time well paying job outside of Belle and I am not the exception to the rule. I do this because I enjoy it. Yes, the money is a bonus, I will not argue the fact but it is not a means to an end for me nor for many other sex-trade workers. I am just so tired of listening to whiney, overweight, sex deprived women tell me that what I do is wrong.
I meet with ,men who make me feel better about myself and show me more respect than most partners I have had in my personal life. Why? Because I ask for the respect. We as sex workers have a choice. If we are not comfortable with a client or his wishes, we say so. We can leave at any time, we can refuse at any time. What we do and what we do not do is our choice and ours alone to make. The only difference between our relationships with men as sex-trade workers is that we get paid for it and we do it with complete strangers. But let's face it. Have most people not had sex with a stranger? ||||||Do
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Lesson #2: Like it or not, kids grow up
Had I written this post 8 months ago I’m sure it would ring a different tune. As they say, hind sight is 20/20.
Long story short, kid snuck out in the middle of the night and I busted her. What followed was a severe grounding.....from everything! Cell phone, computer, extra-curricular sports and of course, the boyfriend who was the reason for the late-night escapade. Naturally she didn’t like that. What I didn’t expect was that she would not come home after school the next day. In fact, she informed me by text that she would never be coming home.
That text was followed by numerous others, accusing me of providing an unfit home for her to live in. Of course, this text came to me from the $350 cell phone I had just bought her the month prior. She claimed to have visited the right people and have been informed of her rights, that she was 16 and able to leave of her own accord. I did not respond as well as I did the first time she experienced alcohol. In fact, I totally bombed at being rational and mature. I demanded the house key and the cell phone and drove right then to pick them up from her. I have never been so angry at my child. Never did I think a child could do something so wrong to ever make me feel the way I did.
The days that followed were hell. She requested her things. Her things? My position was that I bought and paid for everything she left behind, therefore what things were hers? If I had my way, I would have given her nothing. My boyfriend at the time talked me into giving her the basics so the basics is what she got. Not the $300 in clothes she got for Christmas but the clothes she would never have been caught dead in public with. None-the-less, she had clothes. I provided her with the bare necessities. She asked me to drop them off, I informed her they were in bags at the curb
After meeting with her boyfriend’s parents the night prior and them being willing to take her in I made it clear they would not get any help from me, that she had a perfectly good home to be in. For them to allow her to live with them made me sick. I was not going to make this easy....for them or for her.
That week brought not one but two visits from the local police department to try and gain possession of her things. By this time I was just sick. The first time I allowed her to leave with hair products and things but made it clear that the TV, the bed and the remaining clothing was property of my home, not my daughter. Needless to say she was pissed. The second visit by the police I lost the politeness I had the previous visit. I made it clear that without a warrant they were not entering my home, something they told me I had to allow the first visit. A quick call to my lawyer made me aware of my rights. She left in tears, empty handed. As angry as I was, seeing her cry like that tore me up inside. I knew I was doing right. I knew I had to be strong and stand my ground. I had to make this tough on her if only to give her a glimpse of what the adult world is like. But the Mom in me, seeing her baby girl hurting and not reaching out to her was the toughest challenge I have had as of yet, as a parent. And she drove away.
She left behind her siblings, confused and torn, hurting just as I was. I had to be okay. I had to show them that we will be okay. And so it was. My baby gone. This was not how it was supposed to be, but as I have learned, very little in life ever is.The following eight months were spent being angry, even hateful to being hurt, back to being angry and then eventually, accepting our new relationship. It is hard to relate to your baby on an adult level. To back away from mothering and learning to being a friend. To give advice when asked and shut-up otherwise. I learned a lot about myself through this time of her being gone. Mistakes I had made, regrets I had. They are tough to face. But I did.
She came home recently and while the circumstances that brought her home are not the most favourable, she is here and she is safe. I am not so sure she learned all that I had hoped for her during her time on her own but I do think it opened her eyes some to just how much I love her, how important family is and how scary it can be when you turn your back on both.
Long story short, kid snuck out in the middle of the night and I busted her. What followed was a severe grounding.....from everything! Cell phone, computer, extra-curricular sports and of course, the boyfriend who was the reason for the late-night escapade. Naturally she didn’t like that. What I didn’t expect was that she would not come home after school the next day. In fact, she informed me by text that she would never be coming home.
That text was followed by numerous others, accusing me of providing an unfit home for her to live in. Of course, this text came to me from the $350 cell phone I had just bought her the month prior. She claimed to have visited the right people and have been informed of her rights, that she was 16 and able to leave of her own accord. I did not respond as well as I did the first time she experienced alcohol. In fact, I totally bombed at being rational and mature. I demanded the house key and the cell phone and drove right then to pick them up from her. I have never been so angry at my child. Never did I think a child could do something so wrong to ever make me feel the way I did.
The days that followed were hell. She requested her things. Her things? My position was that I bought and paid for everything she left behind, therefore what things were hers? If I had my way, I would have given her nothing. My boyfriend at the time talked me into giving her the basics so the basics is what she got. Not the $300 in clothes she got for Christmas but the clothes she would never have been caught dead in public with. None-the-less, she had clothes. I provided her with the bare necessities. She asked me to drop them off, I informed her they were in bags at the curb
After meeting with her boyfriend’s parents the night prior and them being willing to take her in I made it clear they would not get any help from me, that she had a perfectly good home to be in. For them to allow her to live with them made me sick. I was not going to make this easy....for them or for her.
That week brought not one but two visits from the local police department to try and gain possession of her things. By this time I was just sick. The first time I allowed her to leave with hair products and things but made it clear that the TV, the bed and the remaining clothing was property of my home, not my daughter. Needless to say she was pissed. The second visit by the police I lost the politeness I had the previous visit. I made it clear that without a warrant they were not entering my home, something they told me I had to allow the first visit. A quick call to my lawyer made me aware of my rights. She left in tears, empty handed. As angry as I was, seeing her cry like that tore me up inside. I knew I was doing right. I knew I had to be strong and stand my ground. I had to make this tough on her if only to give her a glimpse of what the adult world is like. But the Mom in me, seeing her baby girl hurting and not reaching out to her was the toughest challenge I have had as of yet, as a parent. And she drove away.
She left behind her siblings, confused and torn, hurting just as I was. I had to be okay. I had to show them that we will be okay. And so it was. My baby gone. This was not how it was supposed to be, but as I have learned, very little in life ever is.The following eight months were spent being angry, even hateful to being hurt, back to being angry and then eventually, accepting our new relationship. It is hard to relate to your baby on an adult level. To back away from mothering and learning to being a friend. To give advice when asked and shut-up otherwise. I learned a lot about myself through this time of her being gone. Mistakes I had made, regrets I had. They are tough to face. But I did.
She came home recently and while the circumstances that brought her home are not the most favourable, she is here and she is safe. I am not so sure she learned all that I had hoped for her during her time on her own but I do think it opened her eyes some to just how much I love her, how important family is and how scary it can be when you turn your back on both.
1st Lesson learned: I WILL be the woman with 40 cats
1st Lesson learned: I WILL be the woman with 40 cats
I took a chance, I will give myself that...and I gave it all I had. Something that started out as a casual relationship quickly turned into something with prospects. And so I let Belle go. And not once did I look back. I dropped my emails, dropped the boards, dropped all that came with her. I had to know what it was like. I had to know if what lied out there for me was what I had envisioned those many nights in bed, married and unhappy. What if I left? Would I be able to love? Would I be able to be loved? And the questions I asked myself as I would put my Belle Face on. Who am I without her? Is it the same, not being her? What’s it like to have all that she has, without the situational differences that separate us two? I needed to know and so I let go.
Dating at 35 is much different than dating at 18. Things have really changed in 17 years. Ok, maybe things haven’t changed. I suppose dating as a teen today is quite similar as it was back then, but dating as an adult, a single parent is a much different experience. When I was a teen, I wore my heart on my sleeve. Sure it got broke a few times but as weeks passed by, it mended as a young heart does. By age 35 I learned just how fragile the heart really is. And after being broken time and time again not only does it take longer to mend but it becomes much harder to reach that place buried deep down inside. I learned to protect myself from being hurt, perhaps a little too well.
Time. I had all the time in the world as a teen to devote to puppy love. That was a sure sign of a successful relationship....the more time you spent together the more in love you were. Every day began with making plans, confirming plans and following through with those plans. And the next day, you made more plans for the next day, and you followed through with them. For a single mom at 35, dating means making plans for a week away, changing those plans twice through the week and more often than not, those plans would fall through as the day came. There is just not enough time. But I did give every spare minute of what little time I had. It just wasn’t enough.
Parenting. I hadn’t realized just how strong my views on parenting were until dating someone who also has children. No right or wrong here, just different parenting styles and unless you are on the same page when it comes to how you raise your children, putting them all in the same room together does not mix. Trying to not speak when it was not my place, trying to stand ground on certain beliefs without being the heavy. Trying to win in a no-win situation is a battle of its own. To put several children together of different families with different sets of rules and expect them to get along was a ridiculous idea. No, it was an insane idea! But again, I had to give it my all, and I did.
Honesty. I have always believed that honesty was the best policy. If I have nothing left to offer, I would always give my word, the truth. I lived many years in a marriage full of deceit and lies. I refused to live that life ever again. And so, as we grew closer I sat him down and we talked about Belle. Crazy, I know. But in my heart of hearts I believed this would pave the way for a healthy relationship. And I believed that for a man to truly love me he must accept me for who I am and Belle is a very big part of who I have become. The conversation was awkward, more for him than me. I made it clear I was not ashamed of my past, in fact, quite contrary to that I was rather proud. I did not get into specifics but all in all he now knew all he needed to know about Belle. Needless to say it didn’t go over so well. Actually, he took it very well, assured me that it didn’t change the way he felt about me and that he could handle it. Ten months later it was clear he couldn’t....but I cannot fault him for that. Question is, can anyone accept that of his woman, his wife? Can a man be expected to accept such a past and let it go, to have it never come between his relationship with the woman he loves? I don’t suppose so.
And for those reasons, I have tried, tested and proven true to my previous post that yes, I WILL be the woman with 40 cats.
But I am okay with that now. I now know what I must sacrifice not to become that woman and it’s not a sacrifice I am willing to make.
I took a chance, I will give myself that...and I gave it all I had. Something that started out as a casual relationship quickly turned into something with prospects. And so I let Belle go. And not once did I look back. I dropped my emails, dropped the boards, dropped all that came with her. I had to know what it was like. I had to know if what lied out there for me was what I had envisioned those many nights in bed, married and unhappy. What if I left? Would I be able to love? Would I be able to be loved? And the questions I asked myself as I would put my Belle Face on. Who am I without her? Is it the same, not being her? What’s it like to have all that she has, without the situational differences that separate us two? I needed to know and so I let go.
Dating at 35 is much different than dating at 18. Things have really changed in 17 years. Ok, maybe things haven’t changed. I suppose dating as a teen today is quite similar as it was back then, but dating as an adult, a single parent is a much different experience. When I was a teen, I wore my heart on my sleeve. Sure it got broke a few times but as weeks passed by, it mended as a young heart does. By age 35 I learned just how fragile the heart really is. And after being broken time and time again not only does it take longer to mend but it becomes much harder to reach that place buried deep down inside. I learned to protect myself from being hurt, perhaps a little too well.
Time. I had all the time in the world as a teen to devote to puppy love. That was a sure sign of a successful relationship....the more time you spent together the more in love you were. Every day began with making plans, confirming plans and following through with those plans. And the next day, you made more plans for the next day, and you followed through with them. For a single mom at 35, dating means making plans for a week away, changing those plans twice through the week and more often than not, those plans would fall through as the day came. There is just not enough time. But I did give every spare minute of what little time I had. It just wasn’t enough.
Parenting. I hadn’t realized just how strong my views on parenting were until dating someone who also has children. No right or wrong here, just different parenting styles and unless you are on the same page when it comes to how you raise your children, putting them all in the same room together does not mix. Trying to not speak when it was not my place, trying to stand ground on certain beliefs without being the heavy. Trying to win in a no-win situation is a battle of its own. To put several children together of different families with different sets of rules and expect them to get along was a ridiculous idea. No, it was an insane idea! But again, I had to give it my all, and I did.
Honesty. I have always believed that honesty was the best policy. If I have nothing left to offer, I would always give my word, the truth. I lived many years in a marriage full of deceit and lies. I refused to live that life ever again. And so, as we grew closer I sat him down and we talked about Belle. Crazy, I know. But in my heart of hearts I believed this would pave the way for a healthy relationship. And I believed that for a man to truly love me he must accept me for who I am and Belle is a very big part of who I have become. The conversation was awkward, more for him than me. I made it clear I was not ashamed of my past, in fact, quite contrary to that I was rather proud. I did not get into specifics but all in all he now knew all he needed to know about Belle. Needless to say it didn’t go over so well. Actually, he took it very well, assured me that it didn’t change the way he felt about me and that he could handle it. Ten months later it was clear he couldn’t....but I cannot fault him for that. Question is, can anyone accept that of his woman, his wife? Can a man be expected to accept such a past and let it go, to have it never come between his relationship with the woman he loves? I don’t suppose so.
And for those reasons, I have tried, tested and proven true to my previous post that yes, I WILL be the woman with 40 cats.
But I am okay with that now. I now know what I must sacrifice not to become that woman and it’s not a sacrifice I am willing to make.
What a journey that was!
I sat alone, the house was dark and I didn't know where to turn. So much has gone on in my life and while taking the good with the bad, tonight the darkness left the only thought..... now what? I've never been normal, as society would see fit as normal. I have always been pretty much a loner, keeping my deepest, dearest thoughts to myself. My head is a place where I let no one in. I sometimes find solace as I visit there, othertimes utter confusion. But it is my place, my place alone. Tonight the silence was just killing me, I had to reach out. But to who? Surely not to those I spend my life shutting out. They just don't get who I am. They just don't understand. And so I broke the still of the night by that sound I have missed so much....tap, tap, tap. Belle is blogging again.....
Throwing in the towel.....
I will try to sound intellectual as I write this. I will try to sound cool and calm. I will pretend that I am a hip understanding mom of a hormonal 15 yr old daughter. I will tell you I said all the right things. I will do all of these things in hopes that all of you know I am full of shit and totally freaking out right now.
I get home from work 6 hours early tonight to prepare for a long day in Toronto tomorrow with my girls. I need a good nights sleep. My teen is up at her computer, no surprise. I tell her I'm glad I am home early to send her to bed but know it's unlikely because she spent all damn day sleeping since coming home from a girlfriend's house at 11am. She sits on the chair next to me as I fire up my laptop. This seating arrangement is never good. When a teen leaves the computer to sit next to you, it's serious. And then she says.....
"I wasn't sure if I was going to tell you this but....."
One sentence. If I had one thought I had one thousand before she carried on. Sex? Drugs? Sex? Smoking? Drinking? Sex? My heart raced, I typed my password into the box to unlock my laptop and no matter how hard I tried, could not find it in me to look at her. "You're a lesbian?" I said jokingly, trying to keep the air light. Please say yes, I thought. I can handle a gay daughter. Hell, I'd pat her on the back if that were the case. Unfortunately I was her age not so long ago. (Hold back the laughter, I'm not in a joking mood right now!)
She spent last night drinking in the rain, sitting on a blanket in a backyard while her girlfriend's parents slept. First I was angry at the parents. Why the f*** isn't that shit locked up with teenagers in the house? Then I was glad it wasn't me being the ignorant parent sound asleep while someone else's daughter was getting drunk in my home. She said something about 3 shots of straight vodka, a shot of rum and a glass of white wine. My stomach tuned on the inside but I just sat there clicking links on my Google page looking rather unphased by what she was telling me. Then she got to the best part of the story....she puked....and puked.....and puked! Then came the promise to never drink again. I remember uttering those same words....just a few weeks ago.
I told her I was glad she chose to do it at a place where adults were around in case she needed them as opposed to walking the streets in a drunken stupor. I told her I was her age once, I knew this was coming. I told her vodka was the worst to drink straight, that her blurry vision and headache was called a hangover and that it was God's punishment for being so damn stupid. And I told her I was glad she puked and then took back the sympathy I gave her earlier about being all bruised up. I thought the bruises were from an intense cheerleading practice earlier in the day, she informed me that she remembered falling down in the bathroom, bedroom, living room and front porch. I seriously considered adding a bruise or two myself, but I didn't show it.
First and formost I would like to thank Belle who gave me the strength to pretend I am something I am not. Without her I would not have known how to appear calm in stressful situations. Without her I would not have known how to smile when I wanted to cry, whisper when I wanted to scream, hold a steady hand when my entire being was shaken to the core.
Thank you to the fellow nominees I find myself in company with. I am not so sure I deserved the oscar for "best supporting actress" any more than the rest of you so I accept it on behalf of all mothers out there who have survived parenthood. One last comment before I leave the stage....to those parents out there that let their kids live to see their 16th birthday........HOW THE F*** DID YOU DO IT?????
I am going to be honest here. Yes, I know she is 15. yes, I know teens do this sort of thing. Yes, I was 15 once too. But no, I was not prepared for it. I thought I was. I've played it out in my mind. But not any more prepared for this than I will be the day it turns to drugs or sex. I am so not cut out for this job. I didn't sign up for this shit and I'm not as fucking strong as everyone seems to think I am. And dammit.....where is her fucking father right now? She is ok. She is sound asleep in her bed. i know, I just checked on her. And there lay my baby. Am I crazy for wanting her to stay my baby? I hear other parents talk about this with their own children. They laugh, they somehow find it funny. I am truly sick over it and can't stop myself from crying. I am not ready for this. She is not ready. I am not ready.
I get home from work 6 hours early tonight to prepare for a long day in Toronto tomorrow with my girls. I need a good nights sleep. My teen is up at her computer, no surprise. I tell her I'm glad I am home early to send her to bed but know it's unlikely because she spent all damn day sleeping since coming home from a girlfriend's house at 11am. She sits on the chair next to me as I fire up my laptop. This seating arrangement is never good. When a teen leaves the computer to sit next to you, it's serious. And then she says.....
"I wasn't sure if I was going to tell you this but....."
One sentence. If I had one thought I had one thousand before she carried on. Sex? Drugs? Sex? Smoking? Drinking? Sex? My heart raced, I typed my password into the box to unlock my laptop and no matter how hard I tried, could not find it in me to look at her. "You're a lesbian?" I said jokingly, trying to keep the air light. Please say yes, I thought. I can handle a gay daughter. Hell, I'd pat her on the back if that were the case. Unfortunately I was her age not so long ago. (Hold back the laughter, I'm not in a joking mood right now!)
She spent last night drinking in the rain, sitting on a blanket in a backyard while her girlfriend's parents slept. First I was angry at the parents. Why the f*** isn't that shit locked up with teenagers in the house? Then I was glad it wasn't me being the ignorant parent sound asleep while someone else's daughter was getting drunk in my home. She said something about 3 shots of straight vodka, a shot of rum and a glass of white wine. My stomach tuned on the inside but I just sat there clicking links on my Google page looking rather unphased by what she was telling me. Then she got to the best part of the story....she puked....and puked.....and puked! Then came the promise to never drink again. I remember uttering those same words....just a few weeks ago.
I told her I was glad she chose to do it at a place where adults were around in case she needed them as opposed to walking the streets in a drunken stupor. I told her I was her age once, I knew this was coming. I told her vodka was the worst to drink straight, that her blurry vision and headache was called a hangover and that it was God's punishment for being so damn stupid. And I told her I was glad she puked and then took back the sympathy I gave her earlier about being all bruised up. I thought the bruises were from an intense cheerleading practice earlier in the day, she informed me that she remembered falling down in the bathroom, bedroom, living room and front porch. I seriously considered adding a bruise or two myself, but I didn't show it.
First and formost I would like to thank Belle who gave me the strength to pretend I am something I am not. Without her I would not have known how to appear calm in stressful situations. Without her I would not have known how to smile when I wanted to cry, whisper when I wanted to scream, hold a steady hand when my entire being was shaken to the core.
Thank you to the fellow nominees I find myself in company with. I am not so sure I deserved the oscar for "best supporting actress" any more than the rest of you so I accept it on behalf of all mothers out there who have survived parenthood. One last comment before I leave the stage....to those parents out there that let their kids live to see their 16th birthday........HOW THE F*** DID YOU DO IT?????
I am going to be honest here. Yes, I know she is 15. yes, I know teens do this sort of thing. Yes, I was 15 once too. But no, I was not prepared for it. I thought I was. I've played it out in my mind. But not any more prepared for this than I will be the day it turns to drugs or sex. I am so not cut out for this job. I didn't sign up for this shit and I'm not as fucking strong as everyone seems to think I am. And dammit.....where is her fucking father right now? She is ok. She is sound asleep in her bed. i know, I just checked on her. And there lay my baby. Am I crazy for wanting her to stay my baby? I hear other parents talk about this with their own children. They laugh, they somehow find it funny. I am truly sick over it and can't stop myself from crying. I am not ready for this. She is not ready. I am not ready.
I'm Baaaaaaack!
Well, it's been some time since I have sat on my love seat, a timmies in hand in the middle of the night and posted to my blog. It's been too long in fact. Where to begin......
First and foremost the biggest change this year has been me leaving the escorting industry. I know, I've said that before. But this time it was and is, final. It wasn't a tough decision really, I knew it was time. Not that I wasn't having a good time, not that I wasn't welcome but that I found myself ready for the next step. I wasn't sure what that was, I still am not so sure but I am ready for whatever that may be. In all honesty, keeping my life as Belle discreet was becoming impossible. My children are growing older and with that comes the fact that they are becoming more aware of a life outside of themselves. Explanations were difficult, time was limited and they have now reached an age where Mom needs to be at home with them. And what a wonderful place to be.
March was an exciting month with the airing of the documentary I participated in with DOCTV. A blog entry will be following this post soon giving all the details so I won't go into it here save to say I do not see an acting career in my future, I think I will stick to my writing.
I left my husband. I know, I've said that before. But this time it was and is....final. More posts on that to follow as well. Let's just say it was a good thing I did not have my blog to post to during the first few months of this transition. Now, about 8 months later, I am able to write with some objectivity. Not always, I still have my moments.
A new part of my life will enter my blog following this post.....dating. Ugh. Just reading that takes me through some dreadful memories. Good times, not so good times. Needless to say it is not quite the experience I thought it would be so far. I'm assuming it gets better....right? Be ready for some more "Belle is venting, Duck!" posts, as well as my "Oath to thy self" post. Interesting reads I can assure you.
I will end this by saying how truly grateful I am to all of you for your support and emails while my blog was offline. Even though I write simply to get things off my chest, knowing that others are reading, that someone cares what I have to say and moreso, that someone misses sharing my experiences and reading the things I write here means so much to me. I have missed the banter we shared here and hope we can pick up where we left off.
xo Belle
First and foremost the biggest change this year has been me leaving the escorting industry. I know, I've said that before. But this time it was and is, final. It wasn't a tough decision really, I knew it was time. Not that I wasn't having a good time, not that I wasn't welcome but that I found myself ready for the next step. I wasn't sure what that was, I still am not so sure but I am ready for whatever that may be. In all honesty, keeping my life as Belle discreet was becoming impossible. My children are growing older and with that comes the fact that they are becoming more aware of a life outside of themselves. Explanations were difficult, time was limited and they have now reached an age where Mom needs to be at home with them. And what a wonderful place to be.
March was an exciting month with the airing of the documentary I participated in with DOCTV. A blog entry will be following this post soon giving all the details so I won't go into it here save to say I do not see an acting career in my future, I think I will stick to my writing.
I left my husband. I know, I've said that before. But this time it was and is....final. More posts on that to follow as well. Let's just say it was a good thing I did not have my blog to post to during the first few months of this transition. Now, about 8 months later, I am able to write with some objectivity. Not always, I still have my moments.
A new part of my life will enter my blog following this post.....dating. Ugh. Just reading that takes me through some dreadful memories. Good times, not so good times. Needless to say it is not quite the experience I thought it would be so far. I'm assuming it gets better....right? Be ready for some more "Belle is venting, Duck!" posts, as well as my "Oath to thy self" post. Interesting reads I can assure you.
I will end this by saying how truly grateful I am to all of you for your support and emails while my blog was offline. Even though I write simply to get things off my chest, knowing that others are reading, that someone cares what I have to say and moreso, that someone misses sharing my experiences and reading the things I write here means so much to me. I have missed the banter we shared here and hope we can pick up where we left off.
xo Belle
Friendships with an SP?
Friendship with an SP. The most complicated of relationships or what???? I have a select few in my personal life that I have chosen to share my Belle life with, for obvious reasons. I have just ended a friendship with one of the select few and am so pissed, I have to vent.
Over the brief course of our friendship, he had made comments about us being together sexually. Something that has never happened between us. I made it clear, in the early stages, that I needed someone to talk to openly with, share my life in a way that friends do….without being expected to have sex.
And what do you know. From silly little advances to constant hounding, sex became a frequent request of his no matter how many times I turned him down. Over and over again I made it clear, I just want to be friends. Is that so much to ask of the opposite sex? Are all men so damn driven by their penises that any relationship with the opposite sex has to involve the act itself?
He gave me promises of how it would not affect our friendship. I told him I knew otherwise. He told me how he could adhere to my rules, how we would keep it strictly sexual. I told him I prefer to have sex with people who don’t tell me their real names. He begged me to do it, I begged him to stop. It was like a little boy hounding his mommy for candy in the checkout aisle. And when I finally ended it, there was the temper tantrum. Full blown, lay-on-the-floor, curled-in-the-fetal-position, wailing temper tantrum. First it was the guilt trip “obviously our friendship meant nothing to you”. Then it was the “Remember this when you are in dire straits and have no one to call” as though I could not survive without him. And lastly, the “It ended because you don’t respect me and my opinions” Again, another guilt trip.
Our last conversation went something like this:
She said: “Honestly, I just want to be friends, is that so much to ask?”He said, “Well, when you talk about sex with strangers and the things you do as Belle, it is hard not to get turned on”.She said, “Fine, then no discussion of sex ever again, if that is what it will take” (as she rolled her eyes thinking how much of an ass he really is, that his whole purpose was to get laid, that he truly believed she was easy and would fuck anything)He said, “Really…so then we really have nothing left to talk about considering your life is 90% sex”She said, “You just said it all right there, that really hurt.”
Instantly he was deleted. Deleted from my email, deleted from my cell contact, deleted from my life. Sex most certainly has its place in my life, there is no doubt. But it doesn’t define me. And I think it is time in my life to start building lasting, meaningful relationships with people in my personal life. People that will see me for me. I may not be able to share all of my life with most people but I do know I am worthy of being more to someone than their sexual entertainment.
So that is that. Now, do you really think it to be possible that an SP have a strictly platonic relationship with a man? Is it so inconceivable to think that a sex crazed, passionate, intense woman (who just so happens to get paid for every orgasm she has) also has other needs in her life that she seeks to be met through other relationships? Or are men sexual creatures unable, even if willing, to have a non-sexually based relationship with a woman. Period?
Over the brief course of our friendship, he had made comments about us being together sexually. Something that has never happened between us. I made it clear, in the early stages, that I needed someone to talk to openly with, share my life in a way that friends do….without being expected to have sex.
And what do you know. From silly little advances to constant hounding, sex became a frequent request of his no matter how many times I turned him down. Over and over again I made it clear, I just want to be friends. Is that so much to ask of the opposite sex? Are all men so damn driven by their penises that any relationship with the opposite sex has to involve the act itself?
He gave me promises of how it would not affect our friendship. I told him I knew otherwise. He told me how he could adhere to my rules, how we would keep it strictly sexual. I told him I prefer to have sex with people who don’t tell me their real names. He begged me to do it, I begged him to stop. It was like a little boy hounding his mommy for candy in the checkout aisle. And when I finally ended it, there was the temper tantrum. Full blown, lay-on-the-floor, curled-in-the-fetal-position, wailing temper tantrum. First it was the guilt trip “obviously our friendship meant nothing to you”. Then it was the “Remember this when you are in dire straits and have no one to call” as though I could not survive without him. And lastly, the “It ended because you don’t respect me and my opinions” Again, another guilt trip.
Our last conversation went something like this:
She said: “Honestly, I just want to be friends, is that so much to ask?”He said, “Well, when you talk about sex with strangers and the things you do as Belle, it is hard not to get turned on”.She said, “Fine, then no discussion of sex ever again, if that is what it will take” (as she rolled her eyes thinking how much of an ass he really is, that his whole purpose was to get laid, that he truly believed she was easy and would fuck anything)He said, “Really…so then we really have nothing left to talk about considering your life is 90% sex”She said, “You just said it all right there, that really hurt.”
Instantly he was deleted. Deleted from my email, deleted from my cell contact, deleted from my life. Sex most certainly has its place in my life, there is no doubt. But it doesn’t define me. And I think it is time in my life to start building lasting, meaningful relationships with people in my personal life. People that will see me for me. I may not be able to share all of my life with most people but I do know I am worthy of being more to someone than their sexual entertainment.
So that is that. Now, do you really think it to be possible that an SP have a strictly platonic relationship with a man? Is it so inconceivable to think that a sex crazed, passionate, intense woman (who just so happens to get paid for every orgasm she has) also has other needs in her life that she seeks to be met through other relationships? Or are men sexual creatures unable, even if willing, to have a non-sexually based relationship with a woman. Period?
WTF am I doing?
The playing field, 16 years later. Same players, different age? Different players altogether? Or is it a whole new game? Do I even know how to play anymore? The guy who asked for my number? Yeah Him. I gave him my number. Why? Because I could. Not because I thought he was the one. Not because I thought he'd sweep me off my feet or rock my world for a night. Just because I could. Because he asked and it is the natural thing a normal single woman would do. No. A single woman would have given him her home phone number. I gave him my cell. He smiled as thoughthe had some privileged information. I smiled because he had no idea that anyone with a computer had access to it as well.
My ex and I had an agreement. He did what he did, I did what I did. The rule was that none of it was to intervene with our life at home. No phone calls, no guests. Our home was sacred. At home we were a family. My view has not changed, even with him gone. My home is still sacred, we here are still a family. I will not allow any one to intervene. So, cell phone it is.
I am not a phone talker. Even as Belle, I choose not to talk on the phone. Belle brings forth a multitude of reasoning for this but for the most part; I simply don't like to spend much time on the phone. The next day, it rings. Belle doesn't answer her phone and by the same reaction, I don't either. I watch it ring. The screen lit up, it vibrates on the arm of my chair. And for some reason I panic. So I let my voicemail take over. I hear the tune play telling me I have a message. I picked it up with my sweaty palm, dialed my code and put it to my ear.
Now many thoughts go through my head as I listen to "You have 1 unheard message. Press 1 to hear your message". In that 2.5 seconds I wonder what he has said? I wonder if he has invited me out for coffee or if he jumped right to dinner. I wonder if he has invited me to his home, out for drinks or if he just called to say hi. Really I am just wondering what the f*** I am doing.
His voice is strong and confident. I like that in a man. Not just in my man, but any man. "Hi *****, it's *****. Just calling to say hi, sorry I missed you. I'll be home for most of the afternoon if you would like to give me a call back and if not, I will see you at work. Have a good day." Harmless. No pressure. No expectations. It seems safe to call him back. Do I call him back? Is it rude not to? Do I wait an hour or call right away? Is it presumptuous to call back right away? This is so stupid. I have no intention of dating him. Hell, I don't even have any intention of sleeping with him. If I am putting myself to the test and using him as my guinea pig then I must call him back or I have failed my own test. I can do this.
So, lying in his incredibly soft bed that night, :rolleyes: I stare at the ceiling. He is talking about some mind blowing experience he just had and I again find myself asking myself, “WHAT THE F*** ARE YOU DOING?” This isn’t someone who will be leaving an envelope on the nightstand never expecting me to call again. This isn’t someone who knows the rules. This is someone from out there. A place where people date, get to know one another, share each other’s thoughts and dreams. This is someone who, very clearly, is open to having sex on the first “get together” (I refuse to use the term “date”) but yet is very likely to ask for something more from me than I am willing to give. Not to mention I will have to see this person most every day for the rest of my working life. I ask myself again, “WTF am I doing?”
I could segregate this entry, making several posts out of the 9 hours we spent together and perhaps I will in time as I grapple with the consequences of my actions. Yes, in this single world, there are consequences. It doesn’t work like Belle’s world out there. I realized that when I had the condom between my lips ready to apply it without using my hands and I look up to see this peculiar look on his face. Knowing I should have spent a little more time fooling around with the wrapper acting as though I had just a little less experience considering that I, to him, am a newly separated woman who had been married for 16 years and has four children. Odds are I haven’t used a condom in quite some time. Note to self……tone it down a notch….or 10.
So really......WTF am I doing?
My ex and I had an agreement. He did what he did, I did what I did. The rule was that none of it was to intervene with our life at home. No phone calls, no guests. Our home was sacred. At home we were a family. My view has not changed, even with him gone. My home is still sacred, we here are still a family. I will not allow any one to intervene. So, cell phone it is.
I am not a phone talker. Even as Belle, I choose not to talk on the phone. Belle brings forth a multitude of reasoning for this but for the most part; I simply don't like to spend much time on the phone. The next day, it rings. Belle doesn't answer her phone and by the same reaction, I don't either. I watch it ring. The screen lit up, it vibrates on the arm of my chair. And for some reason I panic. So I let my voicemail take over. I hear the tune play telling me I have a message. I picked it up with my sweaty palm, dialed my code and put it to my ear.
Now many thoughts go through my head as I listen to "You have 1 unheard message. Press 1 to hear your message". In that 2.5 seconds I wonder what he has said? I wonder if he has invited me out for coffee or if he jumped right to dinner. I wonder if he has invited me to his home, out for drinks or if he just called to say hi. Really I am just wondering what the f*** I am doing.
His voice is strong and confident. I like that in a man. Not just in my man, but any man. "Hi *****, it's *****. Just calling to say hi, sorry I missed you. I'll be home for most of the afternoon if you would like to give me a call back and if not, I will see you at work. Have a good day." Harmless. No pressure. No expectations. It seems safe to call him back. Do I call him back? Is it rude not to? Do I wait an hour or call right away? Is it presumptuous to call back right away? This is so stupid. I have no intention of dating him. Hell, I don't even have any intention of sleeping with him. If I am putting myself to the test and using him as my guinea pig then I must call him back or I have failed my own test. I can do this.
So, lying in his incredibly soft bed that night, :rolleyes: I stare at the ceiling. He is talking about some mind blowing experience he just had and I again find myself asking myself, “WHAT THE F*** ARE YOU DOING?” This isn’t someone who will be leaving an envelope on the nightstand never expecting me to call again. This isn’t someone who knows the rules. This is someone from out there. A place where people date, get to know one another, share each other’s thoughts and dreams. This is someone who, very clearly, is open to having sex on the first “get together” (I refuse to use the term “date”) but yet is very likely to ask for something more from me than I am willing to give. Not to mention I will have to see this person most every day for the rest of my working life. I ask myself again, “WTF am I doing?”
I could segregate this entry, making several posts out of the 9 hours we spent together and perhaps I will in time as I grapple with the consequences of my actions. Yes, in this single world, there are consequences. It doesn’t work like Belle’s world out there. I realized that when I had the condom between my lips ready to apply it without using my hands and I look up to see this peculiar look on his face. Knowing I should have spent a little more time fooling around with the wrapper acting as though I had just a little less experience considering that I, to him, am a newly separated woman who had been married for 16 years and has four children. Odds are I haven’t used a condom in quite some time. Note to self……tone it down a notch….or 10.
So really......WTF am I doing?
Breaking Co-Dependancy
While I am at peace with the end of my marriage I find myself having to face many fears. Things in my life that I had relied on my husband to take care of. While I learned to pump my own gas last year there are many things I have shied away from. The BBQ. I have a fear of fire. You will see how most of my fears stem from this fear. I worry there will be a propane leak and the thing will blow so I went to my best buddy for a BBQ lesson. He showed me how to turn it on and off. Then how to change the tank. Then how to take it apart and clean it. Lastly, how to cook on it.
Next lesson: The weed whacker. It's loud, the noise terrifies me. I picture the string catcihg hold of a kids mcdonald's toy burried beneath the grass and come flying up seriously injuring someone. I tried it for a few seconds and decided I didn't lke it. He finished the job for me.
Light bulbs. Of all stupid things to be afraid of! I hate changing light bulbs. I have security lighting outside my house. All the bulbs needed to be changed. Those bulbs they specify "Do not touch bulb". HTF do you change the bulb wthout touching it? Now I know.
While being giving handy-woman lessons I cleared my shed of 2 useless weed whackers and tosed them in front of my house. The scoundrels are always out on weekends. Good guess on my part. 10 minutes later, one was gone. I parked my ass at the curb a good 30 minutes in hopes someone would take me home with them. I was always told "What's one man's trash is another man's treasure". Apparently the other weed whacker had more to offer than I did as a guy drove up, asked if it was for free and took it, leaving me behind. I dragged my sorry ass back into the house to think up some dinner ideas.
Next weekend: Painting the shed
Clean out the shed
Fix broken shed window
I hope it rains. :rolleyes:
Next lesson: The weed whacker. It's loud, the noise terrifies me. I picture the string catcihg hold of a kids mcdonald's toy burried beneath the grass and come flying up seriously injuring someone. I tried it for a few seconds and decided I didn't lke it. He finished the job for me.
Light bulbs. Of all stupid things to be afraid of! I hate changing light bulbs. I have security lighting outside my house. All the bulbs needed to be changed. Those bulbs they specify "Do not touch bulb". HTF do you change the bulb wthout touching it? Now I know.
While being giving handy-woman lessons I cleared my shed of 2 useless weed whackers and tosed them in front of my house. The scoundrels are always out on weekends. Good guess on my part. 10 minutes later, one was gone. I parked my ass at the curb a good 30 minutes in hopes someone would take me home with them. I was always told "What's one man's trash is another man's treasure". Apparently the other weed whacker had more to offer than I did as a guy drove up, asked if it was for free and took it, leaving me behind. I dragged my sorry ass back into the house to think up some dinner ideas.
Next weekend: Painting the shed
Clean out the shed
Fix broken shed window
I hope it rains. :rolleyes:
Sitting on the fence
Sitting on the fence gives one a beautiful view. You can see the meadows in the valley, the beautiful wildflowers swaying with the wind. You can witness the innocence of children as they chase butterflies through the fields knowing that they don’t truly want to catch one as the fun is in the chase. The colors of the flowers, the beauty of nature, the smells of the grass after a summer rain…it is all in front of you while you sit upon the fence.
I have been sitting on the fence a very long time. I love to see what lies ahead, glimpse beyond the wooden structure to see all that the world has to offer. I sit here and dream of stepping down, feeling the grass beneath my bare feet. I dream of writing a book and then another. I dream of falling in love, of being loved. I dream of travelling and skiing. I dream of what it would be like to chase the butterflies with those children. I dream of a life full of trust and respect and happiness.
I look behind me, to the other side of the fence. My life as it was. It is a swamp. Swampy waters, stingy and unkempt. I can smell the stagnant water, just sitting there. For years and years, the hurt, the lies, the hateful stares just left there to rot at my soul. It is dark and murky. Left behind when I climbed atop my fence is a lifetime of self-worthlessness, but as I sit here I can still smell it, still feel its cold waters against my skin.
I want to join the children chasing butterflies in the meadow. Would I be disturbing them in their game? Would I be imposing on their innocence by bringing to them my uncertainty that so long a time of sitting on the fence has given me? What I am asking is if my desire to seek out the world would be fair to the children if they seem to be happy playing as I watch them from my sturdy perch?.
From where I sit, I cannot fall but neither can I know what it is to run in the meadow. I am content here and I really have nothing to lose by keeping my feet firmly planted but I also know I have nothing to gain either. I have left the murky waters behind but have yet to let the grass touch my feet. It is not for fear that I may fall but that I may disturb the children playing. It seems so selfish to want something for me, to consider going into the meadow and disturbing their happy innocent world. As parents, how do we decide when it is okay to do things for ourselves when those decisions will have such a huge impact on the children?
Belle is my fence. I waded through the murky waters and found what I needed to lift me out to dry land. I have used Belle to give me a glimpse into a world I never knew was out there. A world that could be mine. I have learned what it is like to have friends, to have someone call when they haven’t heard from me in a while. I have learned what it is like to have someone care for me, worry for me and be happy for me. I have felt what it is like to have a man want me. I have learned to love my body and not feel ashamed to be naked in front of him. I have learned to smile, I have learned to cry. Ok, the latter is a work in progress. But I have learned there is more out there. I can dream. I never dreamed before. I now have dreams. Most importantly, I have learned who I am and who I want to be. My fence has served its purpose. Belle saved me when I needed saving. And now I want more.
Is it fair to want more? Not to say that I don’t deserve more as I know I do. I am at a place in my life where I know I deserve to have all I can dream of. But by moving forward, by making changes in my life, I change the children’s lives too. Is it fair to disrupt their life for my own happiness? The problem is, I can’t be sure that my moving forward is a step forward for them as well. They are happy, their world is protected. I just don’t know how long I can go on sitting on the fence and smiling when I yearn so badly to move on.
I know, more mumbo jumbo as I think out loud again. :rolleyes: I’ve got slivers in my ass, anyone have a pair of tweezers I can borrow till I get this shit figured out?
I have been sitting on the fence a very long time. I love to see what lies ahead, glimpse beyond the wooden structure to see all that the world has to offer. I sit here and dream of stepping down, feeling the grass beneath my bare feet. I dream of writing a book and then another. I dream of falling in love, of being loved. I dream of travelling and skiing. I dream of what it would be like to chase the butterflies with those children. I dream of a life full of trust and respect and happiness.
I look behind me, to the other side of the fence. My life as it was. It is a swamp. Swampy waters, stingy and unkempt. I can smell the stagnant water, just sitting there. For years and years, the hurt, the lies, the hateful stares just left there to rot at my soul. It is dark and murky. Left behind when I climbed atop my fence is a lifetime of self-worthlessness, but as I sit here I can still smell it, still feel its cold waters against my skin.
I want to join the children chasing butterflies in the meadow. Would I be disturbing them in their game? Would I be imposing on their innocence by bringing to them my uncertainty that so long a time of sitting on the fence has given me? What I am asking is if my desire to seek out the world would be fair to the children if they seem to be happy playing as I watch them from my sturdy perch?.
From where I sit, I cannot fall but neither can I know what it is to run in the meadow. I am content here and I really have nothing to lose by keeping my feet firmly planted but I also know I have nothing to gain either. I have left the murky waters behind but have yet to let the grass touch my feet. It is not for fear that I may fall but that I may disturb the children playing. It seems so selfish to want something for me, to consider going into the meadow and disturbing their happy innocent world. As parents, how do we decide when it is okay to do things for ourselves when those decisions will have such a huge impact on the children?
Belle is my fence. I waded through the murky waters and found what I needed to lift me out to dry land. I have used Belle to give me a glimpse into a world I never knew was out there. A world that could be mine. I have learned what it is like to have friends, to have someone call when they haven’t heard from me in a while. I have learned what it is like to have someone care for me, worry for me and be happy for me. I have felt what it is like to have a man want me. I have learned to love my body and not feel ashamed to be naked in front of him. I have learned to smile, I have learned to cry. Ok, the latter is a work in progress. But I have learned there is more out there. I can dream. I never dreamed before. I now have dreams. Most importantly, I have learned who I am and who I want to be. My fence has served its purpose. Belle saved me when I needed saving. And now I want more.
Is it fair to want more? Not to say that I don’t deserve more as I know I do. I am at a place in my life where I know I deserve to have all I can dream of. But by moving forward, by making changes in my life, I change the children’s lives too. Is it fair to disrupt their life for my own happiness? The problem is, I can’t be sure that my moving forward is a step forward for them as well. They are happy, their world is protected. I just don’t know how long I can go on sitting on the fence and smiling when I yearn so badly to move on.
I know, more mumbo jumbo as I think out loud again. :rolleyes: I’ve got slivers in my ass, anyone have a pair of tweezers I can borrow till I get this shit figured out?
I don't need saving, thanks anyways.
I have encountered many personalities since I have been in this business. I hate to lump clients into any sort of stereotypical group but many seem to fit into a category of sorts. Some lonely, some in need of control, some passive, some sex craved, some adventurous, some clueless and then you get the "knights in shining armor". The men that want to whisk me away, save me from this lifestyle, show me how a woman should really be treated. :rolleyes:
I would never knock any gentleman that visits with an escort assuming their intentions are harmless. We all have our reasons for participating, whatever they may be. But let me say this just one more time......I don't need saving! I do what I do because I choose to, not because I have to. I have a full time job that supports by family. I don't need to do this. I don't hand my money off to a pimp, I don't do drugs and I don't need someone telling me how I am only fooling myself. You can have your opinions but please keep them to yourself. I am not asking anyone to understand me or my life choices, just to accept them.
This business is so much less complicated than the outside world. This is my getaway. This is where I can be whoever I want to be, live out a fantasy that many could only dream of. This is where I can let go, have no inhibitions and be accepted for whatever I am willing to bring to the table. I ask no more than that from you and in return you ask no more of me. There is no pressure here. No expectations here. No BS here. It is what it is and most accept it for being just that.
In my personal life I must deal with being judged. In my personal life I must live up to people's expectations. In my personal life I must adhere to what and who society dictates I must be. Belle is my getaway. She is carefree, fun and adventurous. Why would I need saving from that? I agree that some ladies may find themselves in this business as a means to an end. And they may need saving. And they may not. But please don't ever partonize a woman in this business by doubting her purpose. It's demeaning and (IMHO) your advice is unwelcome. I am sorry to use my blog as a means to send out a message to one particular individual but I know he is reading and I hope my point has been made.
I would never knock any gentleman that visits with an escort assuming their intentions are harmless. We all have our reasons for participating, whatever they may be. But let me say this just one more time......I don't need saving! I do what I do because I choose to, not because I have to. I have a full time job that supports by family. I don't need to do this. I don't hand my money off to a pimp, I don't do drugs and I don't need someone telling me how I am only fooling myself. You can have your opinions but please keep them to yourself. I am not asking anyone to understand me or my life choices, just to accept them.
This business is so much less complicated than the outside world. This is my getaway. This is where I can be whoever I want to be, live out a fantasy that many could only dream of. This is where I can let go, have no inhibitions and be accepted for whatever I am willing to bring to the table. I ask no more than that from you and in return you ask no more of me. There is no pressure here. No expectations here. No BS here. It is what it is and most accept it for being just that.
In my personal life I must deal with being judged. In my personal life I must live up to people's expectations. In my personal life I must adhere to what and who society dictates I must be. Belle is my getaway. She is carefree, fun and adventurous. Why would I need saving from that? I agree that some ladies may find themselves in this business as a means to an end. And they may need saving. And they may not. But please don't ever partonize a woman in this business by doubting her purpose. It's demeaning and (IMHO) your advice is unwelcome. I am sorry to use my blog as a means to send out a message to one particular individual but I know he is reading and I hope my point has been made.
What's missing?
Think about all experiences you have had with an SP. Aside from the obvious, what, if anything, do you find to be missing from the experience? Is there something you wish was a part of your encounters or something you experienced with an SP that you wish was more par for the course? I have to say that I enjoy music and wished that was a more common element to the experience. While I wouldn't consider showing up with a CD player, the radio being on from time to time would be nice. Not only do I find music to help relax and put both parties at ease it also helps the mood a little. I don't mean soft romantic music so much as any music in general, it seems to promote a natural reaction to move. Not that moving is ever a problem of course.....you get where I am going with this.
So outside of the act itself, what would you like to be a more common part of your experience? Sharing a bottle of wine? A soak in the hot tub? Once, just once, where a driver isn't beeping his horn 60 minutes on the dot? :P
So outside of the act itself, what would you like to be a more common part of your experience? Sharing a bottle of wine? A soak in the hot tub? Once, just once, where a driver isn't beeping his horn 60 minutes on the dot? :P
Do you ask for directions?
I'm not talking any sort of direction you may find on a map either, unless you find it in a book written by Dr. Ruth. When being intimate with a partner, do you encourage instruction from him or her? Would the answer vary depending on if it was an SP or a lover? I have been asked by many clients to tell them what I enjoy and to direct them per say. I am wondering if this sort of direction offends a man (or woman), making them feel incompetent in the bedroom. I am not referring to things you would like to try or ways to spice things up, I just mean simple things like harder or softer, fast or slow....the manner in which foreplay and sex are played out.
I consider myself to be good at reading people which is a big part of this business from an SP's perspective. When I am meeting with a client that is on the shy side I know he needs me to take initiative and I know he is unlikely to express how he best enjoys a sexual enounter. From here I feel him out, so to speak. And it is not too often a client has left me not having reached his goal. But what if a woman was to ask you to move a little slower or to pay a little more attention to something other that what you are focussing your attention on? Would that turn you off? Would it turn you on?
I consider myself to be good at reading people which is a big part of this business from an SP's perspective. When I am meeting with a client that is on the shy side I know he needs me to take initiative and I know he is unlikely to express how he best enjoys a sexual enounter. From here I feel him out, so to speak. And it is not too often a client has left me not having reached his goal. But what if a woman was to ask you to move a little slower or to pay a little more attention to something other that what you are focussing your attention on? Would that turn you off? Would it turn you on?
A mindless business venture....
With another holiday around the corner I found myself shopping for a Father’s Day gift from my kids for their dad. They are all excited, having spent the past week at school making their cute little cards for dad. You know the cards, the ones that say things like, “My dad’s favorite drink is beer and he is happiest when I am sleeping”. Those school cards that are most certain to embarrass any parent. They love Father’s Day and of course, it is routine that we go shopping for a gift for him. Walking around the stores, not sure what the kids had in mind, I found myself listening to other shoppers. Do you dads know just how many kids out there can’t stand their fathers? I could not believe how many times I heard someone say “I haven’t seen him in years, what the hell do I buy the SOB?” or something of the like. It is hard enough to buy something for that special someone, someone you actually like. Having to buy a gift just because the date on the calendar say you have to, is even harder. Then it hit me…..we need a store for this particular type of shopper!
Imagine this. You walk into the store and the greeter asks you who you hate today. You tell him it’s your mother-in law’s birthday and that your wife sent you out to pick up a gift. He directs you to Aisle 1, apparently MIL’s are the most hated to be given the first aisle. You decide to wander the store, its concept too inviting not to as there are a lot of people you don’t like but must still shop for. You pass the “cheating husbands” aisle, the “spoiled brats who have sucked the life right out of you” aisle and then you see it….the “drunken uncle you only see at family reunions” aisle, a quick reminder that your reunion is coming up. Wouldn’t your wife be so proud of you to have come home with not only what she asked you to pick up but what you knew she was going to ask you to pick up next week?
There is even a card station with a big sign above it, “For the people you love to hate, a card for every shitty occasion your spouse drags you to”. Let’s face it, no matter how much you try to hide it, when someone doesn’t like you, you know it. So instead of giving your boss a card that reads “congrats on your retirement” why not give him a card that says what you really want to say, “It took me 17 years to be able to say Fuck You, but it was worth the wait! So glad to see you go”. Yes, I think I am on to something here, the possibilities are endless! Only problem is….store policy would have to be that all sales are final. Could you imagine the hassles at the customer non-service desk? Mind you, a huge line up at the returns desk would be great for business!
Imagine this. You walk into the store and the greeter asks you who you hate today. You tell him it’s your mother-in law’s birthday and that your wife sent you out to pick up a gift. He directs you to Aisle 1, apparently MIL’s are the most hated to be given the first aisle. You decide to wander the store, its concept too inviting not to as there are a lot of people you don’t like but must still shop for. You pass the “cheating husbands” aisle, the “spoiled brats who have sucked the life right out of you” aisle and then you see it….the “drunken uncle you only see at family reunions” aisle, a quick reminder that your reunion is coming up. Wouldn’t your wife be so proud of you to have come home with not only what she asked you to pick up but what you knew she was going to ask you to pick up next week?
There is even a card station with a big sign above it, “For the people you love to hate, a card for every shitty occasion your spouse drags you to”. Let’s face it, no matter how much you try to hide it, when someone doesn’t like you, you know it. So instead of giving your boss a card that reads “congrats on your retirement” why not give him a card that says what you really want to say, “It took me 17 years to be able to say Fuck You, but it was worth the wait! So glad to see you go”. Yes, I think I am on to something here, the possibilities are endless! Only problem is….store policy would have to be that all sales are final. Could you imagine the hassles at the customer non-service desk? Mind you, a huge line up at the returns desk would be great for business!
Angry sex
He was so unprepared. We exchanged several emails prior to our first meet. He wanted to know a little more about me as I did of him. I pointed out the obvious, my lack of flesh in the bust. It’s something I like to bring to a client’s attention prior to meeting so as to prevent him from being disappointed. He wasn’t concerned. We talked about my blog, the things I write about why I enjoy my time as an escort. He asked about my typical clients and how I pass judgment as to who I will and will not see. I expressed my concern for fetish requests or clients who ask for a certain service I do not provide. I am always quite open when a prospective client emails me.
This is the time to be honest and upfront, on both our parts. I told him I am not an aggressive PSE, preferring the more passionate intimate experience. It is why I do what I do for that is what I am looking for and what had led me to Belle in the first place. I did my best to give him an accurate expectation of what our time together would be like.
The morning of. I woke up to find my kids had destroyed the roses I had brought home with me from the funeral home after my grandmother had passed away. I was devastated. The one thing I have specifically told them was of limits. Mom was now officially in a “back the hell away” kind of mood. I sat at my laptop with my timmies and simmered over it for 3 hours. Trying to turn the day around I decided to take the kids out for a walk down the parkway. We loaded into the car and took the ten minute drive to the falls. My teenager decides this is the moment to test who is in control. She refuses to get out of the car. I raise my voice. She again refuses. I point the finger, raise the voice and make it very clear it’s do or die. She chose not to do. BIG MISTAKE!
I don’t know what really happened next but I do remember a few foul words leaving my pursed lips. I ordered the other kids back into the car and all the way home I shouted out my teenage daughter’s summer plans. Housework and lots of it. No computer, no cell phone, no dances, no……..I was a raging lunatic. The nerve of her, I kept telling myself. How dare she? Stomping my feet up the driveway and into my house I just couldn’t calm myself down. I think it was then that I realized I had lost all control.
I demanded that my teenager head to the basement where the laundry awaits her. Then I hopped into the shower. I grabbed my loufa and scrubbed so damn hard I could feel the layers of skin slough off till I was red all over. And still, over and over in my head was the constant replaying of my teenager’s words “You can’t make me do something I don’t want to do!”…..and the anger just grew. Even worse, I sent her down to do laundry without thinking of the need for hot water as I showered. The rush of cold water just pissed me off more. I shut off the tap, grabbed a towel and half dried off, headed to my room. Slamming drawers, I found my black lace knee highs and black and white summer dress I planned on wearing. This is where my excitement usually begins, as I dress for the appointment, anticipating the time we will share. But not today. Today it was just a nuisance. Today I would have to play the sweet pleasant Belle he likely expects because of those damn emails I had sent him. For once, I was really hoping he was an asshole.
I didn’t even bother with the usual fuss over my hair. I gave it a quick tussle, running my fingers through to rid a few knots. Good enough. I stormed through the house grabbing my keys and smokes and headed for the door. The first stop light I put on my powder, the second light my eye liner and the third light, my lipstick. I arrived in the parking lot before I was finished my smoke. He would have to wait. After all, I was 4 minutes early. I banged on the door, not the usual “da dada da da” rap I introduce my arrival with either. Bang, bang, bang…the fuck you ordered is here dammit.
He opened the door and I walked in, mumbling the usual nuances as I threw my purse on the night stand. I didn’t check for the donation or scan the room for anything out of the ordinary as I usually do when first meeting a client. I pushed him onto the bed, straddled him with my legs and pressed my lips against him so damn hard I doubt he could breathe. I decided I wasn’t in the passionate intimate mood I had him prepared for. I wasn’t in the room 2 minutes and I had his pants down to his knees. Giving him the deepest most aggressive blow job I have ever given, I ripped my dress off myself taking only a short break to hop up and grab my purse. He seemed at a loss for words. I looked up at him once and gave myself a bit of a chuckle as he seemed kinda scared. I didn’t care. You asked for me, you got me. He didn’t dare make a move, I was clearly in control. At least someone understood that.
Covered up, I rode him like I doubt he has ever been ridden before. I screamed, I grunted and even blurted out a few obscenities from time to time. I told him what I wanted him to do, and he did it without hesitation. When I got tired, I made him work. Fuck me and you damn well better make it good and hard! And he did. He sweat, I sweat. For one full hour we said nothing that did not involve a sexual demand. I came, he came, and I came again. When I was done, I was done. There was no cuddling under the sheets after, no holding hands or deep conversation. I hopped in the shower, cold water only and cooled my body down. I grabbed the towel, walked still dripping into the room to get dressed. He still lay there on the bed, not saying anything….well, nothing that made much sense anyways. I picked up the handful of twenties and stuffed them in my purse, gave him a quick kiss and was out the door. It hadn’t hit me till half way through the drive home that I just totally fucked this guy. I used him to vent my frustrations; get rid of my anger and all without a care in the world what he thought about that. And I loved it! It really is all about me, I’m such a bitch.
This is the time to be honest and upfront, on both our parts. I told him I am not an aggressive PSE, preferring the more passionate intimate experience. It is why I do what I do for that is what I am looking for and what had led me to Belle in the first place. I did my best to give him an accurate expectation of what our time together would be like.
The morning of. I woke up to find my kids had destroyed the roses I had brought home with me from the funeral home after my grandmother had passed away. I was devastated. The one thing I have specifically told them was of limits. Mom was now officially in a “back the hell away” kind of mood. I sat at my laptop with my timmies and simmered over it for 3 hours. Trying to turn the day around I decided to take the kids out for a walk down the parkway. We loaded into the car and took the ten minute drive to the falls. My teenager decides this is the moment to test who is in control. She refuses to get out of the car. I raise my voice. She again refuses. I point the finger, raise the voice and make it very clear it’s do or die. She chose not to do. BIG MISTAKE!
I don’t know what really happened next but I do remember a few foul words leaving my pursed lips. I ordered the other kids back into the car and all the way home I shouted out my teenage daughter’s summer plans. Housework and lots of it. No computer, no cell phone, no dances, no……..I was a raging lunatic. The nerve of her, I kept telling myself. How dare she? Stomping my feet up the driveway and into my house I just couldn’t calm myself down. I think it was then that I realized I had lost all control.
I demanded that my teenager head to the basement where the laundry awaits her. Then I hopped into the shower. I grabbed my loufa and scrubbed so damn hard I could feel the layers of skin slough off till I was red all over. And still, over and over in my head was the constant replaying of my teenager’s words “You can’t make me do something I don’t want to do!”…..and the anger just grew. Even worse, I sent her down to do laundry without thinking of the need for hot water as I showered. The rush of cold water just pissed me off more. I shut off the tap, grabbed a towel and half dried off, headed to my room. Slamming drawers, I found my black lace knee highs and black and white summer dress I planned on wearing. This is where my excitement usually begins, as I dress for the appointment, anticipating the time we will share. But not today. Today it was just a nuisance. Today I would have to play the sweet pleasant Belle he likely expects because of those damn emails I had sent him. For once, I was really hoping he was an asshole.
I didn’t even bother with the usual fuss over my hair. I gave it a quick tussle, running my fingers through to rid a few knots. Good enough. I stormed through the house grabbing my keys and smokes and headed for the door. The first stop light I put on my powder, the second light my eye liner and the third light, my lipstick. I arrived in the parking lot before I was finished my smoke. He would have to wait. After all, I was 4 minutes early. I banged on the door, not the usual “da dada da da” rap I introduce my arrival with either. Bang, bang, bang…the fuck you ordered is here dammit.
He opened the door and I walked in, mumbling the usual nuances as I threw my purse on the night stand. I didn’t check for the donation or scan the room for anything out of the ordinary as I usually do when first meeting a client. I pushed him onto the bed, straddled him with my legs and pressed my lips against him so damn hard I doubt he could breathe. I decided I wasn’t in the passionate intimate mood I had him prepared for. I wasn’t in the room 2 minutes and I had his pants down to his knees. Giving him the deepest most aggressive blow job I have ever given, I ripped my dress off myself taking only a short break to hop up and grab my purse. He seemed at a loss for words. I looked up at him once and gave myself a bit of a chuckle as he seemed kinda scared. I didn’t care. You asked for me, you got me. He didn’t dare make a move, I was clearly in control. At least someone understood that.
Covered up, I rode him like I doubt he has ever been ridden before. I screamed, I grunted and even blurted out a few obscenities from time to time. I told him what I wanted him to do, and he did it without hesitation. When I got tired, I made him work. Fuck me and you damn well better make it good and hard! And he did. He sweat, I sweat. For one full hour we said nothing that did not involve a sexual demand. I came, he came, and I came again. When I was done, I was done. There was no cuddling under the sheets after, no holding hands or deep conversation. I hopped in the shower, cold water only and cooled my body down. I grabbed the towel, walked still dripping into the room to get dressed. He still lay there on the bed, not saying anything….well, nothing that made much sense anyways. I picked up the handful of twenties and stuffed them in my purse, gave him a quick kiss and was out the door. It hadn’t hit me till half way through the drive home that I just totally fucked this guy. I used him to vent my frustrations; get rid of my anger and all without a care in the world what he thought about that. And I loved it! It really is all about me, I’m such a bitch.
The Rollercoaster
8AM: It’s a long way up. I get on the ride, everyone is locked in and it begins. The slow steep incline. I’m barely moving, I hear the chains rattling as my car aims for the sky. There is an uncertainty in my mind. I’m either going to love this ride or hate it.
I’ve just gone to bed a few short hours ago and it seems I haven’t slept a wink. I hate mornings. The kids are fighting, the best way to wake me in the worst of moods. I left some unfinished business last night when I went to bed. 7 shots of tequila to end the evening left me not caring much for justifying my only evening out in a very long time. I am regretting leaving the situation to deal with now, as I am not in any more of a mood for it now than I was a before I went to bed. I need a smoke and then I will contemplate what kind of a day I am going to make this.
11AM: I’ve hit the top of the incline, now it’s the plummet. It took a while to get up here yet the drop takes but a fraction of a second. There is no way to prepare, it just hits me like a tonne of bricks. I want to puke; I’m surely not going to live through this.
I’ve had two Timmies, can’t count how many smokes and I’m feeling alright. No hangover, unrightfully so. But not complaining. I’m missing my nana, but I push the thought away. The sun is shining; I should make my way outside sometime soon. Don’t want it to be another wasted day in front of my computer. Then again, maybe one more day in my pajamas won’t hurt, it’s not like anyone is going to notice. Will there ever be someone to notice? That’s exactly what I need, someone to stop by and say “Hey, it’s one o’clock in the afternoon, get your shit together girl!” Today I’m glad there is no one. Pajamas it is, I’ll pick myself up tomorrow.
3PM: Going up, way up. Hitting that upside down loop that leaves butterflies in my stomach. This is the part of the ride that keeps me coming back for more. The rollercoaster is so worth it, knowing this part. Loop after loop at full speed, no gravity, nothing holding me back. Everything whizzes by and all I can feel is the fresh air against my face and butterflies. I love the butterflies.
I don’t know what has gotten into me. Perhaps it is the long awaited sun after a cold and gloomy winter, perhaps it’s the alignment of the stars or maybe, just maybe I am coming into my sexuality, appreciating my womanhood and opening up to the possibilities of a whole new life for myself. Whatever it is, it is wonderful and beautiful and almost overwhelming. I imagine happiness, it is so close to me, so profound that it becomes something I can almost touch. It has a shape, it has presence. I can imagine the life I want, not as in to dream of it but I can see it, close my eyes and live it. It is here and I am there, it is so complete.
8PM:. I come out of the loop, my heart racing. My palms are sweaty, my hair tasseled. It’s time to get off. I begin to feel grounded, like an addict coming down from the high. I close my eyes. My car slows down and comes to a stop. I look like hell, they can tell there were many ups and downs. But that’s what the ride is all about. What’s a rollercoaster without the ups and downs? It wouldn’t be a coaster if it had one but not the other. That’s the thrill of the ride. The ups mean nothing without the downs. And same goes the other way.
It’s surreal at first, to be racing through the clouds just a moment ago, then having to place my feet on the ground. But it is this very ground that reminds me who I am. It reminds me why I got on in the first place. It’s the not knowing what to expect. We spend so much time trying to plan our lives so that everything is just so but is that what we really want? Do we really want to know what lies ahead for us? Do we not set ourselves up for disappointment by expecting something and not having it not be there for us?
Everyone sees me now, I must stand tall and not waver. I must walk off as I walked on, strong and confident. They are looking at me, summing up how their experience will be as they await their turn on the ride and I cannot disappoint. I smile. It was one hell of a ride and they can be sure I’ll be back again tomorrow. It may not be the same ride, but as long as it has the ups to go with the downs, I’ll keep showing up.
I’ve just gone to bed a few short hours ago and it seems I haven’t slept a wink. I hate mornings. The kids are fighting, the best way to wake me in the worst of moods. I left some unfinished business last night when I went to bed. 7 shots of tequila to end the evening left me not caring much for justifying my only evening out in a very long time. I am regretting leaving the situation to deal with now, as I am not in any more of a mood for it now than I was a before I went to bed. I need a smoke and then I will contemplate what kind of a day I am going to make this.
11AM: I’ve hit the top of the incline, now it’s the plummet. It took a while to get up here yet the drop takes but a fraction of a second. There is no way to prepare, it just hits me like a tonne of bricks. I want to puke; I’m surely not going to live through this.
I’ve had two Timmies, can’t count how many smokes and I’m feeling alright. No hangover, unrightfully so. But not complaining. I’m missing my nana, but I push the thought away. The sun is shining; I should make my way outside sometime soon. Don’t want it to be another wasted day in front of my computer. Then again, maybe one more day in my pajamas won’t hurt, it’s not like anyone is going to notice. Will there ever be someone to notice? That’s exactly what I need, someone to stop by and say “Hey, it’s one o’clock in the afternoon, get your shit together girl!” Today I’m glad there is no one. Pajamas it is, I’ll pick myself up tomorrow.
3PM: Going up, way up. Hitting that upside down loop that leaves butterflies in my stomach. This is the part of the ride that keeps me coming back for more. The rollercoaster is so worth it, knowing this part. Loop after loop at full speed, no gravity, nothing holding me back. Everything whizzes by and all I can feel is the fresh air against my face and butterflies. I love the butterflies.
I don’t know what has gotten into me. Perhaps it is the long awaited sun after a cold and gloomy winter, perhaps it’s the alignment of the stars or maybe, just maybe I am coming into my sexuality, appreciating my womanhood and opening up to the possibilities of a whole new life for myself. Whatever it is, it is wonderful and beautiful and almost overwhelming. I imagine happiness, it is so close to me, so profound that it becomes something I can almost touch. It has a shape, it has presence. I can imagine the life I want, not as in to dream of it but I can see it, close my eyes and live it. It is here and I am there, it is so complete.
8PM:. I come out of the loop, my heart racing. My palms are sweaty, my hair tasseled. It’s time to get off. I begin to feel grounded, like an addict coming down from the high. I close my eyes. My car slows down and comes to a stop. I look like hell, they can tell there were many ups and downs. But that’s what the ride is all about. What’s a rollercoaster without the ups and downs? It wouldn’t be a coaster if it had one but not the other. That’s the thrill of the ride. The ups mean nothing without the downs. And same goes the other way.
It’s surreal at first, to be racing through the clouds just a moment ago, then having to place my feet on the ground. But it is this very ground that reminds me who I am. It reminds me why I got on in the first place. It’s the not knowing what to expect. We spend so much time trying to plan our lives so that everything is just so but is that what we really want? Do we really want to know what lies ahead for us? Do we not set ourselves up for disappointment by expecting something and not having it not be there for us?
Everyone sees me now, I must stand tall and not waver. I must walk off as I walked on, strong and confident. They are looking at me, summing up how their experience will be as they await their turn on the ride and I cannot disappoint. I smile. It was one hell of a ride and they can be sure I’ll be back again tomorrow. It may not be the same ride, but as long as it has the ups to go with the downs, I’ll keep showing up.
Found my way back.....
I owe you all an apology for not being around much lately. You’ve all been so supportive and I leave you after all you have done for me. Truth is, I’ve had nothing pleasant to say and I was raised with the saying, “If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all”. I have been on this emotional rollercoaster and scared to death of where I would end up if and when I ever got off. Funny thing is, I thought if I just keep myself busy, everything will go away…it has worked so well for most things in my life. But this just won’t go away so I have found myself learning something about me. I am human. I can be hurt, no matter how hard I try to protect myself from everyone that could hurt me and that I can’t keep running because eventually it will catch up with me, which it has.
So I am at the bottom, that rock bottom place I was so scared be. There is no denying it, that’s where I am. I can sugar coat it any way I like, telling you I will be okay and this too shall pass but the reality is I’d only be fooling myself. I am naked, staring into the mirror seeing someone I don’t even know. Have you ever been there? To not know who is looking back at you? I see someone old and tired and scared. In an instant, everything I thought I knew about myself was gone.
I am going about my life and I am doing okay, don’t get me wrong. But when I am alone, when it’s just me and my thoughts I am just that, very alone. And then I ask myself how it is that I have never let anyone in so I protect myself from being hurt yet I am hurting so badly and wished I had just one person beside me that I gave my trust to. The good thing to come out of this will hopefully be the realization that I can’t, or should I say don’t have to do this alone.
This is the first time in my life that someone has called to see if I am okay. The first time I have had someone say to me “I’m here just to listen, even if it’s to only hear you cry”. I didn’t realize just how much I have needed that, no matter how vulnerable it made me feel.
I won’t let life keep me down, my nana would never have wanted that for me. But I’m not pushing myself too hard to pick myself up either. I hope I haven’t disappointed any of you, I’m still here and promise to not be such a stranger. I think it’s time I stop feeling sorry for myself and be thankful to have what I do, not mourn for what I don’t. Now if I could just figure out how?
So I am at the bottom, that rock bottom place I was so scared be. There is no denying it, that’s where I am. I can sugar coat it any way I like, telling you I will be okay and this too shall pass but the reality is I’d only be fooling myself. I am naked, staring into the mirror seeing someone I don’t even know. Have you ever been there? To not know who is looking back at you? I see someone old and tired and scared. In an instant, everything I thought I knew about myself was gone.
I am going about my life and I am doing okay, don’t get me wrong. But when I am alone, when it’s just me and my thoughts I am just that, very alone. And then I ask myself how it is that I have never let anyone in so I protect myself from being hurt yet I am hurting so badly and wished I had just one person beside me that I gave my trust to. The good thing to come out of this will hopefully be the realization that I can’t, or should I say don’t have to do this alone.
This is the first time in my life that someone has called to see if I am okay. The first time I have had someone say to me “I’m here just to listen, even if it’s to only hear you cry”. I didn’t realize just how much I have needed that, no matter how vulnerable it made me feel.
I won’t let life keep me down, my nana would never have wanted that for me. But I’m not pushing myself too hard to pick myself up either. I hope I haven’t disappointed any of you, I’m still here and promise to not be such a stranger. I think it’s time I stop feeling sorry for myself and be thankful to have what I do, not mourn for what I don’t. Now if I could just figure out how?
Best sex is no-sex
The best sex is no sex. No really! Don’t stop reading; you have to follow me here. This isn’t some advertisement for anti-sex activists (please don’t tell me there is such a thing) just hear me out. You know how much I love sex. I love sex in many, many forms. But have you ever thought about just how erotic NOT having sex could be? Imagine…..
A couple starts a hot steamy love affair. They meet weekly at the hideaway hotel, pulling up the driveway in separate cars, racing to beat the other to the door; their clothes have barely hit the floor as the door closes behind them. It’s forbidden, this meeting. They cannot commit but to this once-a-week rendezvous. This is all they think of during the week, how many more sleeps ‘till Tuesday. They wake up with the thought of the other, memories flashing back to the shower they shared, a quick wash up before heading home to their separate lives when their passion takes over and yet another interlude takes place. Water showering them as they thrust their soapy bodies against one another. They have no time, they know they must leave but cannot find it in them to separate. Just once more…
This goes on for a month or two. They play it casual when their paths cross outside of Tuesday nights. There’s a look from the corner of his eye, a smile from the corner of her mouth. They cave to the temptation of kissing as they pass in the hallway during a retirement party for a co-worker. It’s oh so forbidden. They sit in the boardroom and listen as presentations are being made. One foot crosses over to his and she rubs his leg with her toes. Their eyes meet, they can’t wait for Tuesday.
Something happens, something that brings her to end their Tuesday nights. He is devastated; it hurts her even more so. She lusts for him, her desire is unbearable yet it must not be. It can not be. And it hurts. He wants her. He needs her. He tries to reassure her. She wants to say yes, she wants him to say they will be okay but she knows otherwise. It just cannot be. She dreams of their first time, his kiss so intoxicating. She closes her eyes and sees him, looking down at him as he takes hold of her face telling her he needs to look at her. She watches him as he cums. This is what she sees when she goes to bed at night. He lays there and thinks of the very same things. They connected in a way that neither had shared with anyone else. It was so damn good, yet so damn wrong. But it felt so damn right.
They meet in the lunch room and it is hard. Hard not to see the look from the corner of his eye. Hard not to see the smile from the corner of her mouth. Hard not to brush against one another as they pass in the hallway. He calls her in the night; she rolls over to answer the phone. His voice makes her smile. He says all the right things she doesn’t want to hear. But she is glad he says them. She wants him too, she says. She misses him too, she says. And there they are, both undressed and finding themselves reliving their most sacred Tuesday nights. She hangs up and wishes it could be. He hangs up and says it must be.
And so they find themselves one day, alone with a few moments to pass. There is nothing to be said but that one kiss they shared that said it all. It said “I want you”, “No, it just can’t be”. It said “I need to feel you, naked with me” and it said “You can dream of being naked with me” and it said “We will never be done” and at last, “No, it never will be”. But that kiss, that kiss they share during brief forbidden moments alone are the most intense and erotic kisses she has ever known. They never know when their next moment will be so they hold on to each as though it were to be their last. Every touch, every glance, every smile and every kiss, they hold onto as though it were their last.
And he tries, every moment they have alone. He uses his eyes to seduce her, the touch of his hand on her shoulder to comfort her, the warmth of his breath on her neck to arouse her. She grabs his cock in her hand through his jeans to be sure she still has the same effect on him. He is always hard, always ready, always wanting her as she is lusting for him.
The sex was amazing, phenomenal, wild and sensual. Yet the no-sex, the wanting and the knowing of what she is missing, her memories of Tuesday nights that fill her heart with more desire and passion, and that she can feel all of this in just one kiss that makes no-sex even greater, something so much bigger than sex. It’s the knowing what the sex is like together, the always wondering when the next sex will be or even if the next sex will be, the temptation and the need for one another that keeps that passion so alive. Passion runs the risk of dying with sex. Even with only Tuesday nights, one Tuesday it just may be one too many Tuesdays and that passion fades. That could never happen with no-sex. Never.
A couple starts a hot steamy love affair. They meet weekly at the hideaway hotel, pulling up the driveway in separate cars, racing to beat the other to the door; their clothes have barely hit the floor as the door closes behind them. It’s forbidden, this meeting. They cannot commit but to this once-a-week rendezvous. This is all they think of during the week, how many more sleeps ‘till Tuesday. They wake up with the thought of the other, memories flashing back to the shower they shared, a quick wash up before heading home to their separate lives when their passion takes over and yet another interlude takes place. Water showering them as they thrust their soapy bodies against one another. They have no time, they know they must leave but cannot find it in them to separate. Just once more…
This goes on for a month or two. They play it casual when their paths cross outside of Tuesday nights. There’s a look from the corner of his eye, a smile from the corner of her mouth. They cave to the temptation of kissing as they pass in the hallway during a retirement party for a co-worker. It’s oh so forbidden. They sit in the boardroom and listen as presentations are being made. One foot crosses over to his and she rubs his leg with her toes. Their eyes meet, they can’t wait for Tuesday.
Something happens, something that brings her to end their Tuesday nights. He is devastated; it hurts her even more so. She lusts for him, her desire is unbearable yet it must not be. It can not be. And it hurts. He wants her. He needs her. He tries to reassure her. She wants to say yes, she wants him to say they will be okay but she knows otherwise. It just cannot be. She dreams of their first time, his kiss so intoxicating. She closes her eyes and sees him, looking down at him as he takes hold of her face telling her he needs to look at her. She watches him as he cums. This is what she sees when she goes to bed at night. He lays there and thinks of the very same things. They connected in a way that neither had shared with anyone else. It was so damn good, yet so damn wrong. But it felt so damn right.
They meet in the lunch room and it is hard. Hard not to see the look from the corner of his eye. Hard not to see the smile from the corner of her mouth. Hard not to brush against one another as they pass in the hallway. He calls her in the night; she rolls over to answer the phone. His voice makes her smile. He says all the right things she doesn’t want to hear. But she is glad he says them. She wants him too, she says. She misses him too, she says. And there they are, both undressed and finding themselves reliving their most sacred Tuesday nights. She hangs up and wishes it could be. He hangs up and says it must be.
And so they find themselves one day, alone with a few moments to pass. There is nothing to be said but that one kiss they shared that said it all. It said “I want you”, “No, it just can’t be”. It said “I need to feel you, naked with me” and it said “You can dream of being naked with me” and it said “We will never be done” and at last, “No, it never will be”. But that kiss, that kiss they share during brief forbidden moments alone are the most intense and erotic kisses she has ever known. They never know when their next moment will be so they hold on to each as though it were to be their last. Every touch, every glance, every smile and every kiss, they hold onto as though it were their last.
And he tries, every moment they have alone. He uses his eyes to seduce her, the touch of his hand on her shoulder to comfort her, the warmth of his breath on her neck to arouse her. She grabs his cock in her hand through his jeans to be sure she still has the same effect on him. He is always hard, always ready, always wanting her as she is lusting for him.
The sex was amazing, phenomenal, wild and sensual. Yet the no-sex, the wanting and the knowing of what she is missing, her memories of Tuesday nights that fill her heart with more desire and passion, and that she can feel all of this in just one kiss that makes no-sex even greater, something so much bigger than sex. It’s the knowing what the sex is like together, the always wondering when the next sex will be or even if the next sex will be, the temptation and the need for one another that keeps that passion so alive. Passion runs the risk of dying with sex. Even with only Tuesday nights, one Tuesday it just may be one too many Tuesdays and that passion fades. That could never happen with no-sex. Never.
Chemistry 101
I was never much for chemistry in school, hell; I was never one for school. I was too busy learning about life through living it. I learned the importance of chemistry. I may not have learned what happens when you put a flame to ammonium dichromate but I have learned what happens when you mix the chemistry of a man with the chemistry of a woman. But is that what it’s all about? Chemistry?
I am a sensual lover and find myself most aroused by someone of the like. And sensual is just that, being aroused by my senses. It is not just the feel of his fingers against my skin but the way his breathing changes when he reaches my thighs. It’s not just the heavy pant of his warm breath on my neck, but the taste of a bead of his sweat…he is physically reacting to his intense desire for me. That is arousing. He enters me and while it feels so splendid, it’s when I pull myself up to his chest and inhale his scent that I become most captivated. So, am I attracted to him because of his biological make-up and we’re just meant to be because chemistry says we mix well together or is it a conscious decision to be with him because of how he looks, the way he makes me laugh or the way he treats me?
I took my questions to the internet, trying to figure out just why we are attracted to certain people. Why does sex feel so different depending on the partner? Why do some things excite me with one and turn me off with another? What makes me decide the sex mood I am in, my mood prior to the prospect or is it his chemistry mixed with mine that promotes the urgency for sex?
I remember a time, lying in bed and feeling so aroused having my hand under my cheek on the pillow. We had been holding hands for hours, sitting in his father’s car listening to music the entire evening. We kissed and we caressed but it didn’t go any further than that. And as I lay in bed I could smell him in the palm of my hand. I felt aroused, calm, and safe. It gave me butterflies. I would not move my hand from my cheek; I wanted to drift off with my last conscious breath being of him. As I look back, I think we had some actual chemistry. His scent excited me yet calmed me. I instantly reacted to it without having prior thought of him. It was not until I lay my hand under my cheek that I instantly felt that rush.
But if that is the case and it’s really all about chemistry, then where does our personal preference come into play? I came upon one site that posed this example: You ask a woman everything she wants in a man and she will respond. “Honest, loyal, tall, dark haired, funny, blue eyes and loves movies”, then you put him in front of her and she says “He’s nice and all but we just didn’t click.. But yet he is everything she is looking for. Maybe it really is all about chemistry. Maybe I really don’t have as much control as I thought I did.
Another site I came across spelled out the chemistry part for me. Apparently I over produce PEA (phenyl ethylamine), Dopamine and nor epinephrine, a moderate amount of oxytocin and my body doesn’t even know how to produce endorphins let alone vasopressin. PEA is adrenaline; it keeps your heart racing and gives you that “infatuation” response. That, I know I am addicted to, that immediate rush when a man touches me, the excitement when you first have sex with someone. Oxytocin initiates the “cuddling”, it’s the sexual arousal brought on by a lover’s voice or even a sexual fantasy. It’s a calming hormone promoting the cuddling before, during and after sex. Endorphins prompt the “attachment” need, they calm and reassure with attachment. Yuck.
The last one I have to mention is actually a warning to all men and should be heeded. If your spouse ever tries to tell you that you are due for your yearly shot of vasopressin, run! This is a monogamy hormone. Take a shot of vasopressin and have sex, within 24 hours that mate will be the only one you will ever want again. Well, apparently it works that way for moles but it is a naturally producing hormone in humans. I wonder if this would be a good defense in family court.
So, what do you think? I used to think how I chose my partners was based solely on choice, a rational (ok not always) informed (ok, not always) conscious (yes, always….I think) decision. Now I’m not so sure. Maybe I should just have sex whenever I feel like it instead of trying to think it through. After all, I apparently have no control. Science is fact, I should trust science, it has been tried, tested and is fact. My ‘thinking things through’ on the other hand……..
I am a sensual lover and find myself most aroused by someone of the like. And sensual is just that, being aroused by my senses. It is not just the feel of his fingers against my skin but the way his breathing changes when he reaches my thighs. It’s not just the heavy pant of his warm breath on my neck, but the taste of a bead of his sweat…he is physically reacting to his intense desire for me. That is arousing. He enters me and while it feels so splendid, it’s when I pull myself up to his chest and inhale his scent that I become most captivated. So, am I attracted to him because of his biological make-up and we’re just meant to be because chemistry says we mix well together or is it a conscious decision to be with him because of how he looks, the way he makes me laugh or the way he treats me?
I took my questions to the internet, trying to figure out just why we are attracted to certain people. Why does sex feel so different depending on the partner? Why do some things excite me with one and turn me off with another? What makes me decide the sex mood I am in, my mood prior to the prospect or is it his chemistry mixed with mine that promotes the urgency for sex?
I remember a time, lying in bed and feeling so aroused having my hand under my cheek on the pillow. We had been holding hands for hours, sitting in his father’s car listening to music the entire evening. We kissed and we caressed but it didn’t go any further than that. And as I lay in bed I could smell him in the palm of my hand. I felt aroused, calm, and safe. It gave me butterflies. I would not move my hand from my cheek; I wanted to drift off with my last conscious breath being of him. As I look back, I think we had some actual chemistry. His scent excited me yet calmed me. I instantly reacted to it without having prior thought of him. It was not until I lay my hand under my cheek that I instantly felt that rush.
But if that is the case and it’s really all about chemistry, then where does our personal preference come into play? I came upon one site that posed this example: You ask a woman everything she wants in a man and she will respond. “Honest, loyal, tall, dark haired, funny, blue eyes and loves movies”, then you put him in front of her and she says “He’s nice and all but we just didn’t click.. But yet he is everything she is looking for. Maybe it really is all about chemistry. Maybe I really don’t have as much control as I thought I did.
Another site I came across spelled out the chemistry part for me. Apparently I over produce PEA (phenyl ethylamine), Dopamine and nor epinephrine, a moderate amount of oxytocin and my body doesn’t even know how to produce endorphins let alone vasopressin. PEA is adrenaline; it keeps your heart racing and gives you that “infatuation” response. That, I know I am addicted to, that immediate rush when a man touches me, the excitement when you first have sex with someone. Oxytocin initiates the “cuddling”, it’s the sexual arousal brought on by a lover’s voice or even a sexual fantasy. It’s a calming hormone promoting the cuddling before, during and after sex. Endorphins prompt the “attachment” need, they calm and reassure with attachment. Yuck.
The last one I have to mention is actually a warning to all men and should be heeded. If your spouse ever tries to tell you that you are due for your yearly shot of vasopressin, run! This is a monogamy hormone. Take a shot of vasopressin and have sex, within 24 hours that mate will be the only one you will ever want again. Well, apparently it works that way for moles but it is a naturally producing hormone in humans. I wonder if this would be a good defense in family court.
So, what do you think? I used to think how I chose my partners was based solely on choice, a rational (ok not always) informed (ok, not always) conscious (yes, always….I think) decision. Now I’m not so sure. Maybe I should just have sex whenever I feel like it instead of trying to think it through. After all, I apparently have no control. Science is fact, I should trust science, it has been tried, tested and is fact. My ‘thinking things through’ on the other hand……..
Am I the woman with 40 cats?
Someone recently told me that I am cold, that if I keep living my life the way I am I will wind up being an old woman with 40 cats. Of course, this was coming from a married man who thought he’d be the one to break down my wall. I chuckled at first, till I got home and thought about it. One or two aren’t bad, but do I really want 40?
I have been out of this loop since I was 18. I was barely in the loop when I got out of it. Things were different when I was 18. I was young and I had no fear. I wanted to be in love, I wanted to get married and have a family. I did all of those things. Do I really want to start over?
How does the dating game play out when you’re a responsible adult, with kids and a job? It’s not so simple anymore, there’s more to it than when you’re 18. I got to thinking about when my nana passes away. I try not to because we are blessed to still have her with us but I am scared. I don’t have a man to cry to, a man to come home and fall apart with, a man to hold me during the funeral, to pass me more Kleenex. That scares me, the fact that I can’t fall apart. I have to be strong for my kids and I have no one to be strong for me. I know I will be okay, I just wish I didn’t feel like I always have to be okay.
So….where to start? Do I find an attractive man, ask him for coffee, then he invites me for dinner then I wait 3 days for him to ask me out again? Do I hold out on sex for 1 week, 1 month? Do I wait for an attractive man to approach me? Are men attracted to or put off by an aggressive woman? Am I even ready for this?
I’ve put my pen to paper to sort out exactly what I am looking for in a man and what I would expect out of a relationship. I figure if I am going to do this, I’m going to do it right. I have to know what I’m looking for. No more, no less. These are standards I have no room for compromising.
I want a man. A man who is handy around the house, not afraid to get his hands dirty, not afraid to work hard. One who wants to spend a Saturday afternoon sanding floors or pulling weeds. Not because I asked him to but because he wants to. Because he sees it needs to be done or sees me doing it and wants to be by my side, working together.
He has to be employed. Not just recently employed either. I want security. I don’t mean it want his money either but I want to know I will never have to support his lazy ass. I need to know that he is self-sufficient, able to be reliable, accountable to himself. I don’t care what position he holds or where he works, just that he is able to hold a job. Not too much to ask for, I don’t think.
He has to be close with his family. His parents, his siblings, his children if he has any. He has to be able to appreciate the importance of those relationships and value them. This shows his respect and ability to love someone other than himself.
He has to enjoy biking, walking, reading, camping, Disney, Habs games and Geocaching. I don’t want a gym freak, the guy who lives to build some bulk but someone who doesn’t shy from living a healthy active lifestyle. He has to love the outdoors and not whine about the heat and mosquitoes.
He has to have a mind of his own. Agree with me when he agrees but not for the sake of making me happy. My worst pet peeve is a man who won’t stand up for himself. While I don’t want a control freak either, I think there is a happy medium where he’s not afraid to get into it with me but also knows when to walk away because I’m too pissed to discuss it rationally. Ok, that may be asking a bit too much. I suppose I could work on not being so stubborn. Maybe.
He must love to drive. No explanation needed there.
A man who can cuddle yet still be strong and make me feel safe. He must be tall with arms that I can wrap myself in. They’re good for watching movies or running to when life sucks.
He must have a good friend base. We will need our time apart. Ladies nights out, guys nights out. I don’t think it’s healthy otherwise. I’m not the jealous type, nor can he be. Again, a happy medium. Too obsessive and I will run.
One thing I needed in my marriage and never got, was “thank you”. The sacrifices I made, the support I gave when most women would have thrown in the towel…..and never a “thank you”. I need to know that I am appreciated, I need to know I am needed. Most importantly, I need to know that I make a difference in his life. He needs to tell me that from time to time.
Emotion. A fine line here. I have no use for a blubbering idiot who cries at Kodak commercials. I have no use for a guy who says he loves me after the second date. I want a strong, masculine man who isn’t afraid to communicate his emotions or his thoughts. If he’s pissed, he damn well better say so. If he had a bad day and wants to be left alone, so be it….just say so! I don’t want to pull teeth trying to figure him out. Be honest and straight forward, no games. Mental stability is a given.
He must love kids, this is top priority. While I don’t believe in introducing a man to my kids for many, many months after we have been dating, I need to know that when I am ready to take that step, he is ready to accept them. Patience, understanding, patience and being a kid at heart himself, will go a long way.
Am I seriously considering this? Am I seriously contemplating moving on? This thought scares the living hell out of me! I know I am not ready today, probably won’t be for some time yet but just thinking about the possibility is way out of my comfort zone. I had best grab a drink and get a grip, before I get too carried away with this nonsense.
Maybe I'll just buy a puppy, easier to train. :rolleyes:
I have been out of this loop since I was 18. I was barely in the loop when I got out of it. Things were different when I was 18. I was young and I had no fear. I wanted to be in love, I wanted to get married and have a family. I did all of those things. Do I really want to start over?
How does the dating game play out when you’re a responsible adult, with kids and a job? It’s not so simple anymore, there’s more to it than when you’re 18. I got to thinking about when my nana passes away. I try not to because we are blessed to still have her with us but I am scared. I don’t have a man to cry to, a man to come home and fall apart with, a man to hold me during the funeral, to pass me more Kleenex. That scares me, the fact that I can’t fall apart. I have to be strong for my kids and I have no one to be strong for me. I know I will be okay, I just wish I didn’t feel like I always have to be okay.
So….where to start? Do I find an attractive man, ask him for coffee, then he invites me for dinner then I wait 3 days for him to ask me out again? Do I hold out on sex for 1 week, 1 month? Do I wait for an attractive man to approach me? Are men attracted to or put off by an aggressive woman? Am I even ready for this?
I’ve put my pen to paper to sort out exactly what I am looking for in a man and what I would expect out of a relationship. I figure if I am going to do this, I’m going to do it right. I have to know what I’m looking for. No more, no less. These are standards I have no room for compromising.
I want a man. A man who is handy around the house, not afraid to get his hands dirty, not afraid to work hard. One who wants to spend a Saturday afternoon sanding floors or pulling weeds. Not because I asked him to but because he wants to. Because he sees it needs to be done or sees me doing it and wants to be by my side, working together.
He has to be employed. Not just recently employed either. I want security. I don’t mean it want his money either but I want to know I will never have to support his lazy ass. I need to know that he is self-sufficient, able to be reliable, accountable to himself. I don’t care what position he holds or where he works, just that he is able to hold a job. Not too much to ask for, I don’t think.
He has to be close with his family. His parents, his siblings, his children if he has any. He has to be able to appreciate the importance of those relationships and value them. This shows his respect and ability to love someone other than himself.
He has to enjoy biking, walking, reading, camping, Disney, Habs games and Geocaching. I don’t want a gym freak, the guy who lives to build some bulk but someone who doesn’t shy from living a healthy active lifestyle. He has to love the outdoors and not whine about the heat and mosquitoes.
He has to have a mind of his own. Agree with me when he agrees but not for the sake of making me happy. My worst pet peeve is a man who won’t stand up for himself. While I don’t want a control freak either, I think there is a happy medium where he’s not afraid to get into it with me but also knows when to walk away because I’m too pissed to discuss it rationally. Ok, that may be asking a bit too much. I suppose I could work on not being so stubborn. Maybe.
He must love to drive. No explanation needed there.
A man who can cuddle yet still be strong and make me feel safe. He must be tall with arms that I can wrap myself in. They’re good for watching movies or running to when life sucks.
He must have a good friend base. We will need our time apart. Ladies nights out, guys nights out. I don’t think it’s healthy otherwise. I’m not the jealous type, nor can he be. Again, a happy medium. Too obsessive and I will run.
One thing I needed in my marriage and never got, was “thank you”. The sacrifices I made, the support I gave when most women would have thrown in the towel…..and never a “thank you”. I need to know that I am appreciated, I need to know I am needed. Most importantly, I need to know that I make a difference in his life. He needs to tell me that from time to time.
Emotion. A fine line here. I have no use for a blubbering idiot who cries at Kodak commercials. I have no use for a guy who says he loves me after the second date. I want a strong, masculine man who isn’t afraid to communicate his emotions or his thoughts. If he’s pissed, he damn well better say so. If he had a bad day and wants to be left alone, so be it….just say so! I don’t want to pull teeth trying to figure him out. Be honest and straight forward, no games. Mental stability is a given.
He must love kids, this is top priority. While I don’t believe in introducing a man to my kids for many, many months after we have been dating, I need to know that when I am ready to take that step, he is ready to accept them. Patience, understanding, patience and being a kid at heart himself, will go a long way.
Am I seriously considering this? Am I seriously contemplating moving on? This thought scares the living hell out of me! I know I am not ready today, probably won’t be for some time yet but just thinking about the possibility is way out of my comfort zone. I had best grab a drink and get a grip, before I get too carried away with this nonsense.
Maybe I'll just buy a puppy, easier to train. :rolleyes:
A Stranger's Smile
I was driving around today in the rain, my mind in total chaos as I often find it to be when I have a minute to myself. I was thinking about my nana, an issue that has me concerned at work, my kids who seem to be needing more of me than I have to give lately and was a little down when I came to the end of a side street having to make a right hand turn onto a busy street. There was a pedestrian coming down the sidewalk and seeing the traffic I had to pull into, figured I would come to a stop before the sidewalk so he had plenty of room to cross in front of me.
This guy, having all the room he needed and plenty of time to cross decided to wait on the corner for me to make my turn. I gave him the wave to acknowledge that I see him there and to tell him to cross as it was 3:30 and the school traffic down this street would leave me sitting a few minutes at the corner before I got the chance to pull into my lane. He simply smiled and waved me on.
We did the awkward, “No, you go” “No, you go” thing a few times over and he just sat there smiling as he waved me on so I edged forward. It was the funniest thing. I had expected him to just walk around my van after I pulled up but he just stood there smiling at me. I’d smile back, check out the traffic, see that I’m not going anywhere anytime soon, then look back at him. And he just smiled. We did this for a good 3 or 4 minutes before I got the chance to pull away. I would have been happy to sit there an hour, smiling back and forth. That smile made my day. We truly need more people in this world to smile. Not just to smile because they got a promotion, or smile because it’s pay day or smile because they got something they wanted but to smile for no reason at all.
I realized that lately, I don’t smile enough. I have put so much pressure on myself, let the world’s trouble lie on my shoulders and have chosen to let that get me down when I could be smiling, making someone else’s day as this guy had made mine. It was no effort on his part and he likely has no idea that he turned my day around but that is the most beautiful part of it all. It was just a smile….that made me smile.
This guy, having all the room he needed and plenty of time to cross decided to wait on the corner for me to make my turn. I gave him the wave to acknowledge that I see him there and to tell him to cross as it was 3:30 and the school traffic down this street would leave me sitting a few minutes at the corner before I got the chance to pull into my lane. He simply smiled and waved me on.
We did the awkward, “No, you go” “No, you go” thing a few times over and he just sat there smiling as he waved me on so I edged forward. It was the funniest thing. I had expected him to just walk around my van after I pulled up but he just stood there smiling at me. I’d smile back, check out the traffic, see that I’m not going anywhere anytime soon, then look back at him. And he just smiled. We did this for a good 3 or 4 minutes before I got the chance to pull away. I would have been happy to sit there an hour, smiling back and forth. That smile made my day. We truly need more people in this world to smile. Not just to smile because they got a promotion, or smile because it’s pay day or smile because they got something they wanted but to smile for no reason at all.
I realized that lately, I don’t smile enough. I have put so much pressure on myself, let the world’s trouble lie on my shoulders and have chosen to let that get me down when I could be smiling, making someone else’s day as this guy had made mine. It was no effort on his part and he likely has no idea that he turned my day around but that is the most beautiful part of it all. It was just a smile….that made me smile.
Mastercard moments
For everything else.....there's Mastercard! Who doesn't love those "Priceless" commercials? The tallying up of costs charged to the credit card, yet the memorable expreience being priceless. Ever have a Mastercard moment? Recently had an email sent to you about a Mastercard moment? I had a rough morning today but managed to find humor in it all as I thought of it as a Mastercard Moment. Share yours here too!
1 broken bedroom window..... $225.001 shredded window screen..... $15.001 winter jacket torn by the glass..... $80.00
The first time your kid runs away from home.....priceless!
(The second and third time today weren't so priceless :rolleyes:)
1 broken bedroom window..... $225.001 shredded window screen..... $15.001 winter jacket torn by the glass..... $80.00
The first time your kid runs away from home.....priceless!
(The second and third time today weren't so priceless :rolleyes:)
The dreaded night
I am exhausted as I drag myself off to bed, eagerly anticipating the sleep I am so desperate for. I love my bed, its king sized mattress, down filled comforter and pillows make going to bed a welcoming event after a long day. I swarm myself inside, assuming the usual position of being on my stomach, cradling a king-sized pillow under my left side, left leg half-cocked, right arm tucked under my right side. It is so still outside the window at my head, I hear nothing. I close my eyes….and it begins.
‘Easter is next weekend isn’t it? What do I get the kids? I can’t believe I have yet to do any shopping. A TV for my daughter, maybe I’ll stop by the EBay store tomorrow. My son needs a bike, so does my daughter that wants a TV. Both were stolen last summer, do I spend the money knowing they are still not disciplined enough to keep them stored at the side of the house? The trampoline is falling apart, new netting needed at the very least but the frame has been welded a couple of times….maybe a whole new set?
Easter ’97, walked a few blocks (with my oldest) to Nana’s to wish her a Happy Easter. A brand new bike sitting in the kitchen. She was so excited. How sweet that was, I could not have afforded it, neither could Nana but she did it anyways. I am gong to miss her. No, I can’t go there, I need sleep tonight.
Work tomorrow, where did my two days off go? Wait a minute, is it Friday or Saturday? Whew, still have one more day off. One more day to catch up on laundry. A movie tomorrow night, Horton Hears a Who. I need to spend as much time as I can with the kids. Am I spending enough time with them? Too much time with one and not enough with the others? I got upset with them today over a messy house; I used to be a good mom. But I took them out this morning for breakfast and a tour of the Maple Farm, good moms do those things. We’re going to be okay. If I could only understand my son, if only my love was enough to make him okay. Are we going to be okay? Doctor’s appointment for him Monday morning, thankfully a cancellation came through. More tests, how will he be this time? Will I be leaving with a handful of prescriptions? Will he get the help he needs? Bleach his plunger in the morning; it’s been a week or so. Who would have ever thought Asperger’s? What kind of a name is that anyways? I need sleep……’
And that is my routine….night after night after night. I try the satellite radio, I try turning off my TV. I try the most boring infomercials, I try my Ipod. I try reading, I try a bath. If I have enough energy I even try my pocket rocket, sometimes I have to turn myself down as I’m just not in the mood. The night is so frustrating for me. The daytime seems better, I feel comforted by the sounds of life happening around me. I can sleep when I know people are at work, the neighbor is walking his dog and my kids are in school. The night is terrifying.
I dread the phone call. I know it’s coming and for some reason I fear it more in the still of the night. I dread my thoughts, I can’t turn them off. I lay there and think…and think and think. My thoughts are racing from my grocery list to re-evaluating my pension plan contribution to memories that just come to me out of the blue. There is no escaping my thoughts and I feel like I am driving myself crazy. I just need to sleep. Off to the kitchen; take the dreaded pill that I despise having to take, wishing I had taken it hours ago when I first lay my head down. I grab a glass of water and head to my computer until sleep is inevitable. I’m not going back to the still of the night until I know I will drift off into it. Which is about……now.
‘Easter is next weekend isn’t it? What do I get the kids? I can’t believe I have yet to do any shopping. A TV for my daughter, maybe I’ll stop by the EBay store tomorrow. My son needs a bike, so does my daughter that wants a TV. Both were stolen last summer, do I spend the money knowing they are still not disciplined enough to keep them stored at the side of the house? The trampoline is falling apart, new netting needed at the very least but the frame has been welded a couple of times….maybe a whole new set?
Easter ’97, walked a few blocks (with my oldest) to Nana’s to wish her a Happy Easter. A brand new bike sitting in the kitchen. She was so excited. How sweet that was, I could not have afforded it, neither could Nana but she did it anyways. I am gong to miss her. No, I can’t go there, I need sleep tonight.
Work tomorrow, where did my two days off go? Wait a minute, is it Friday or Saturday? Whew, still have one more day off. One more day to catch up on laundry. A movie tomorrow night, Horton Hears a Who. I need to spend as much time as I can with the kids. Am I spending enough time with them? Too much time with one and not enough with the others? I got upset with them today over a messy house; I used to be a good mom. But I took them out this morning for breakfast and a tour of the Maple Farm, good moms do those things. We’re going to be okay. If I could only understand my son, if only my love was enough to make him okay. Are we going to be okay? Doctor’s appointment for him Monday morning, thankfully a cancellation came through. More tests, how will he be this time? Will I be leaving with a handful of prescriptions? Will he get the help he needs? Bleach his plunger in the morning; it’s been a week or so. Who would have ever thought Asperger’s? What kind of a name is that anyways? I need sleep……’
And that is my routine….night after night after night. I try the satellite radio, I try turning off my TV. I try the most boring infomercials, I try my Ipod. I try reading, I try a bath. If I have enough energy I even try my pocket rocket, sometimes I have to turn myself down as I’m just not in the mood. The night is so frustrating for me. The daytime seems better, I feel comforted by the sounds of life happening around me. I can sleep when I know people are at work, the neighbor is walking his dog and my kids are in school. The night is terrifying.
I dread the phone call. I know it’s coming and for some reason I fear it more in the still of the night. I dread my thoughts, I can’t turn them off. I lay there and think…and think and think. My thoughts are racing from my grocery list to re-evaluating my pension plan contribution to memories that just come to me out of the blue. There is no escaping my thoughts and I feel like I am driving myself crazy. I just need to sleep. Off to the kitchen; take the dreaded pill that I despise having to take, wishing I had taken it hours ago when I first lay my head down. I grab a glass of water and head to my computer until sleep is inevitable. I’m not going back to the still of the night until I know I will drift off into it. Which is about……now.
The Dream
I had a dream, the kind of dream where you wake in a total euphoria. The kind of dream that seems so real you can still feel every breath, hear every whisper, taste everything there was to taste as though you are experiencing it first hand. In fact, the feeling so alive; so vivid; so fresh that I could not have imagined having tasted, smelled or heard such beautiful things prior to my dream. It was at the very least, an inspiration.
I don’t know what brought me here, in fact I am not quite sure just where I am but somehow the location seemed irrelevant as did the events surrounding the start of this moment. I am left with the impression that we were led here by sexual desire and that desire alone. Not what one would think of as love affair but simply a sexual experience. We were here to have sex, plain and simple. There was to be no intimacy or obligatory “spending the night over” drama. Just good unplanned sex; plain, simple and good. The opportunity arose and here we were.
I looked into his eyes, perhaps waiting for his approval. It was a moment that if it were to ever happen, now would be that time or it was never meant to be. We sat across from one another in a silent gaze, sharing equally in a defining moment of what would possibly transpire. It was brief, as short as the time it takes one to blink yet so vivid in my memory. In that blink of an eye we shared a conversation in which neither of us spoke.
I told him I wanted to feel his touch and that I was ready, that I would not regret going past this moment. He told me that he too, was ready. He said he was nervous but he knew this is what he wanted, he would not regret going past this moment. We knew it would come to this. We knew that one day we would be ready to experience one another in a way that we had only fantasized about in the past. And in this moment I think we both feared what would become of our lives after this blink yet feared even more what would become of us if we didn’t go there. And then he smiled. I leaned in and closed my eyes.
I never saw his face yet when I closed my eyes I knew I knew him and felt that he knew me too. Not just my name but who I am. I couldn’t relate my connection to him but he somehow made me feel safe. I got the sense that he was not alone, that he had a partner in his life. Perhaps that would explain his fear of going past the blink of an eye. Selfish on my part as I feared for what his life would be after this, and yet what he feared gave me security. As an afterthought, I am quite bothered by this, morally. But alas, there we were. Our lips had met; this was the point of no return. It was no use to worry the consequences of this kiss. It was done in the blink of an eye so with that thought I let any insecurities, any questions or doubt I may have had go.
The kiss. I had never felt anything like it. Nothing in my life has come close to the feeling that that kiss has left with me. Not my first kiss in sixth grade. Not the kiss from my high school sweetheart at our first school dance. Not the kiss I had on my wedding day. There was no emotional attachment to this kiss, no feelings of love or yearning to spend my life with the one who gave this kiss to me. It was a kiss of acceptance; a kiss from someone who knew me for me; someone who did not judge me nor criticize my thoughts; someone that although I could not know of his name, I knew that he knew everything about me. And yet even still, he wanted me. I don’t know how I got all of that from just one kiss, or how it could seem so real and leave me with such an impression. It was so soft, so passionate and yet emotionlessly safe. One would think that would leave a person empty yet I was left feeling so complete.
I don’t remember opening my eyes from that kiss until after we had both reached a most amazing orgasm. Trying to bring back every detail to my consciousness I can still feel his firm hands pressed against my ever-so-small breasts as I leant down to kiss him, grinding my hips into his groin. I can see myself leaning back in extreme pleasure, feeling my legs begin to quiver as I came, and then laying my head in his neck as I recovered. That first kiss was but a fraction of my dream and the sex that had followed that kiss remains just as vivid in my mind. Yet it was his lips against mine; that blink of an eye; his acceptance and sexual desire for me, and mine for him in that very moment that has left me feeling totally and completely euphoric. It wasn’t real and perhaps that was why it was so amazing. The fantasy of something that could never be, or could it?
I don’t know what brought me here, in fact I am not quite sure just where I am but somehow the location seemed irrelevant as did the events surrounding the start of this moment. I am left with the impression that we were led here by sexual desire and that desire alone. Not what one would think of as love affair but simply a sexual experience. We were here to have sex, plain and simple. There was to be no intimacy or obligatory “spending the night over” drama. Just good unplanned sex; plain, simple and good. The opportunity arose and here we were.
I looked into his eyes, perhaps waiting for his approval. It was a moment that if it were to ever happen, now would be that time or it was never meant to be. We sat across from one another in a silent gaze, sharing equally in a defining moment of what would possibly transpire. It was brief, as short as the time it takes one to blink yet so vivid in my memory. In that blink of an eye we shared a conversation in which neither of us spoke.
I told him I wanted to feel his touch and that I was ready, that I would not regret going past this moment. He told me that he too, was ready. He said he was nervous but he knew this is what he wanted, he would not regret going past this moment. We knew it would come to this. We knew that one day we would be ready to experience one another in a way that we had only fantasized about in the past. And in this moment I think we both feared what would become of our lives after this blink yet feared even more what would become of us if we didn’t go there. And then he smiled. I leaned in and closed my eyes.
I never saw his face yet when I closed my eyes I knew I knew him and felt that he knew me too. Not just my name but who I am. I couldn’t relate my connection to him but he somehow made me feel safe. I got the sense that he was not alone, that he had a partner in his life. Perhaps that would explain his fear of going past the blink of an eye. Selfish on my part as I feared for what his life would be after this, and yet what he feared gave me security. As an afterthought, I am quite bothered by this, morally. But alas, there we were. Our lips had met; this was the point of no return. It was no use to worry the consequences of this kiss. It was done in the blink of an eye so with that thought I let any insecurities, any questions or doubt I may have had go.
The kiss. I had never felt anything like it. Nothing in my life has come close to the feeling that that kiss has left with me. Not my first kiss in sixth grade. Not the kiss from my high school sweetheart at our first school dance. Not the kiss I had on my wedding day. There was no emotional attachment to this kiss, no feelings of love or yearning to spend my life with the one who gave this kiss to me. It was a kiss of acceptance; a kiss from someone who knew me for me; someone who did not judge me nor criticize my thoughts; someone that although I could not know of his name, I knew that he knew everything about me. And yet even still, he wanted me. I don’t know how I got all of that from just one kiss, or how it could seem so real and leave me with such an impression. It was so soft, so passionate and yet emotionlessly safe. One would think that would leave a person empty yet I was left feeling so complete.
I don’t remember opening my eyes from that kiss until after we had both reached a most amazing orgasm. Trying to bring back every detail to my consciousness I can still feel his firm hands pressed against my ever-so-small breasts as I leant down to kiss him, grinding my hips into his groin. I can see myself leaning back in extreme pleasure, feeling my legs begin to quiver as I came, and then laying my head in his neck as I recovered. That first kiss was but a fraction of my dream and the sex that had followed that kiss remains just as vivid in my mind. Yet it was his lips against mine; that blink of an eye; his acceptance and sexual desire for me, and mine for him in that very moment that has left me feeling totally and completely euphoric. It wasn’t real and perhaps that was why it was so amazing. The fantasy of something that could never be, or could it?
Buff Belle; The Gym Thread
No, not Belle in the Buff. I'm changing my tune just a little bit and have decided to do something I have never done before. I'm hitting the gym! My workout regimen actually began in late November. After spending several months pitying myself I decided I needed to make some serious changes in my life. It all must start with taking better care of me and I owe this to Mrs. L, who has been actively hitting the gym for some time now. She was my inspiration, so thanks so much for the boost I needed!
I was hesitant to bring it up here to all of you. First of all, I fear failure. Then I realized I am my own worst critic. Letting you down is nothing compared to how hard I am on myself when I let myself down. Then there's the obligatory "You look great!" that people feel compelled to say when they know someone is dieting or working out. It's nice and all, but in all honesty it's seldom sincere. So while I want to share my progress and anything related to this new lifestyle with you, please, please, PLEASE don't ever feel obligated to give a compliment for the sake of pacifying me. K, 'nough of that. (Whoa, poor English or what????)
So, late November and I took advantage of a two week free pass to a gym to check things out. Two things were on my "must-haves" list. A sauna and a whirlpool. Both were a go. So from there, I headed to the weight room. I have never lifted weights before nor have I stepped foot on a treadmill or any cardio machine for that matter. This room was intimidating for me. 15 treadmills, 15 crosstrainers, 10 bikes (5 of them in a very odd position), 4 Stairmasters, too many weight stations to counts and a huge free-weight area. Mats for stretching, studios for aerobics classes, a gym for ball sports, handball/squash courts....I could go on and on. This place is huge! With a little research I am sure you could come up with which gym it is I am using but for my personal space I do hope you understand my wish to leave the name anonymous. All in all I was very pleased, although incredibly intimidated.
Over the two week trial membership I slipped in and out ever couple of days just to become acquainted with the place. The sauna and I immediately hit it off. I spent much of the time in there contemplating if I really had the discipline to stick with it. The membership isn't cheap....perhaps that's the push I need. I don't mind spending money when it's put to good use but I won't spend it frivolously. If I pay the membership I will be forced to go and to get started, I need to be forced to do it.
On December 15th I decided to do it. I set up an appointment with a personal trainer (he comes with my membership, isn't that sooooo cool?) for the following Friday morning. His only instruction was to show up in the appropriate dress and be ready on time. So Friday morning came and I was there, on time wearing my habs pajama pants, my habs socks, my habs t-shirt and runners. 'C’mon guys, it's all I had! I don't suppose my red leather skirt and jacket would have been any better! Ok, perhaps it would have been 'cause I was clearly did not get the dress code memo that everyone else apparently got. As he rambled on about a few basic safety tips I was taking mental notes for my shopping list. Tights, shorts, tank tops, ankle socks, sports bras, hip hugging cotton pants. Got it.
Ok, back to my training. He asked just how much experience I had with a gym. I laughed and told him I have had a gym membership for 2 years but never seemed to make it past the hot tub and sauna...so we started from scratch. He got me acquainted with six basic machines. No free weights, thank God! This gym uses a computer system that tracks the weight you lift on each machine and also logs all of your cardio activity. I really liked that feature. I punch in my access code on each machine and it tells me my seat/weight settings, range of motion and details of my previous workout. Something to keep me motivated, I sure need that! Then he tells me he will get weekly reports on my progress. This is where the fear of failure comes in. I didn't like that idea at all but it holds me accountable and that's exactly what I need.
I knew the remaining 2 weeks of December would be a slow start with the holidays and my work schedule but I made sure I visited 3 times a week. It takes me about 1/2 hr to complete my weight stations and then I added 30 minutes of cardio on the treadmill. I can do this. My initial total weight lift per day was set at 3300 pounds. It sounded like a lot to me but it wasn't at all, pretty basic stuff really. By the end of December I was doubling it. So far so good.
It is now January 15th and my average weight lift per day is 13,000 pounds. Since January 1st I have lifted 143,700 pounds! I made the first day of the New Year the start of my commitment to the gym. I have only missed two days since then. But it is early and it is still new, I am hoping the novelty doesn't wear off as it does for most people. Getting there is the hardest part for me; once I am there I am okay. I am committed and I AM going to do this....with your help of course!
I have ventured out a little in the gym. While I have yet to partake in any fitness classes, I now alternate the treadmill with the elliptical and the Stairmaster. Just today I finally did my shopping. I am officially rigged up for this gig! I did buy a sports band for my Ipod early on, I just can't workout without the music and besides....everyone has one! I will still show up in my Habs pj's once in awhile if it means the difference between me going or not going that day. But I now have sports bras. I learned over the past month that underwire and sweat do not mix, ouch!
So, I will apologize in advance for me whining here about my bad days and I thank you in advance for any support or advice you may have to offer.....please feel free to do so! Oh and one more thing......I simply refuse to give up my smoking!
I was hesitant to bring it up here to all of you. First of all, I fear failure. Then I realized I am my own worst critic. Letting you down is nothing compared to how hard I am on myself when I let myself down. Then there's the obligatory "You look great!" that people feel compelled to say when they know someone is dieting or working out. It's nice and all, but in all honesty it's seldom sincere. So while I want to share my progress and anything related to this new lifestyle with you, please, please, PLEASE don't ever feel obligated to give a compliment for the sake of pacifying me. K, 'nough of that. (Whoa, poor English or what????)
So, late November and I took advantage of a two week free pass to a gym to check things out. Two things were on my "must-haves" list. A sauna and a whirlpool. Both were a go. So from there, I headed to the weight room. I have never lifted weights before nor have I stepped foot on a treadmill or any cardio machine for that matter. This room was intimidating for me. 15 treadmills, 15 crosstrainers, 10 bikes (5 of them in a very odd position), 4 Stairmasters, too many weight stations to counts and a huge free-weight area. Mats for stretching, studios for aerobics classes, a gym for ball sports, handball/squash courts....I could go on and on. This place is huge! With a little research I am sure you could come up with which gym it is I am using but for my personal space I do hope you understand my wish to leave the name anonymous. All in all I was very pleased, although incredibly intimidated.
Over the two week trial membership I slipped in and out ever couple of days just to become acquainted with the place. The sauna and I immediately hit it off. I spent much of the time in there contemplating if I really had the discipline to stick with it. The membership isn't cheap....perhaps that's the push I need. I don't mind spending money when it's put to good use but I won't spend it frivolously. If I pay the membership I will be forced to go and to get started, I need to be forced to do it.
On December 15th I decided to do it. I set up an appointment with a personal trainer (he comes with my membership, isn't that sooooo cool?) for the following Friday morning. His only instruction was to show up in the appropriate dress and be ready on time. So Friday morning came and I was there, on time wearing my habs pajama pants, my habs socks, my habs t-shirt and runners. 'C’mon guys, it's all I had! I don't suppose my red leather skirt and jacket would have been any better! Ok, perhaps it would have been 'cause I was clearly did not get the dress code memo that everyone else apparently got. As he rambled on about a few basic safety tips I was taking mental notes for my shopping list. Tights, shorts, tank tops, ankle socks, sports bras, hip hugging cotton pants. Got it.
Ok, back to my training. He asked just how much experience I had with a gym. I laughed and told him I have had a gym membership for 2 years but never seemed to make it past the hot tub and sauna...so we started from scratch. He got me acquainted with six basic machines. No free weights, thank God! This gym uses a computer system that tracks the weight you lift on each machine and also logs all of your cardio activity. I really liked that feature. I punch in my access code on each machine and it tells me my seat/weight settings, range of motion and details of my previous workout. Something to keep me motivated, I sure need that! Then he tells me he will get weekly reports on my progress. This is where the fear of failure comes in. I didn't like that idea at all but it holds me accountable and that's exactly what I need.
I knew the remaining 2 weeks of December would be a slow start with the holidays and my work schedule but I made sure I visited 3 times a week. It takes me about 1/2 hr to complete my weight stations and then I added 30 minutes of cardio on the treadmill. I can do this. My initial total weight lift per day was set at 3300 pounds. It sounded like a lot to me but it wasn't at all, pretty basic stuff really. By the end of December I was doubling it. So far so good.
It is now January 15th and my average weight lift per day is 13,000 pounds. Since January 1st I have lifted 143,700 pounds! I made the first day of the New Year the start of my commitment to the gym. I have only missed two days since then. But it is early and it is still new, I am hoping the novelty doesn't wear off as it does for most people. Getting there is the hardest part for me; once I am there I am okay. I am committed and I AM going to do this....with your help of course!
I have ventured out a little in the gym. While I have yet to partake in any fitness classes, I now alternate the treadmill with the elliptical and the Stairmaster. Just today I finally did my shopping. I am officially rigged up for this gig! I did buy a sports band for my Ipod early on, I just can't workout without the music and besides....everyone has one! I will still show up in my Habs pj's once in awhile if it means the difference between me going or not going that day. But I now have sports bras. I learned over the past month that underwire and sweat do not mix, ouch!
So, I will apologize in advance for me whining here about my bad days and I thank you in advance for any support or advice you may have to offer.....please feel free to do so! Oh and one more thing......I simply refuse to give up my smoking!
Showcase Series: The Secret Life of a Call Girl, Belle De Jour
I had agreed to pick up an extra shift at work tonight, and then at the last minute realized it had been quite some time since I have had a date with my bed. Sure I sleep in it often but to have an evening to just lie in bed all night and watch TV is a chance that comes to me few and far between, so I jumped at it. A quick call to work and I was in my pj’s snuggled under my down-filled comforter with the remote in my hand.
It sounds like quite an uneventful evening and it most certainly started off that way. I drifted off shortly after feeling my feet warm up and was quite disappointed when I awoke, thinking I had slept the night away and missed the opportunity to just hang out in bed. Thankfully it was only midnight so I started channel surfing.
I caught the second half of “Flip this house”, A&E being my most favorite channel. Next was “Most Haunted”. I’ve caught this show a few times; working the grave shift allows me to be familiar with infomercials and from time to time a good haunting story. This one was filmed in an old lighthouse, I didn’t catch the location. Quite creepy some of the phenomenon going on and it’s right up my viewing alley. Then, there she was.
Belle. My pseudo-character. I wrote here about Showcase TV filming a series based on Belle de Jour’s books, “The Secret Life of a Call Girl”. I was overly excited to finally catch episode #5 and 6# tonight! I cannot tell you how peculiar it was to be watching a show based on something so close to my personal life. I suppose when the documentary I participated in finally airs on CTV I may find it even more so but this is the closest I had come to seeing my life portrayed on TV, right in front of my eyes. Something that I could relate so personally to, it was a very odd but exhilarating feeling just the same.
In this particular series, Belle is very much like me. Small breasted, not the most perfectly chiseled body and very down to earth. I found Belle’s book portrayed her more as a sex fiend, a porn star type escort who thrives on the rougher more physically arousing sex. I was happy to see that the Showcase series had toned down her personality to be more the girl-next-door, someone I could relate to a little better.
These two episodes I could have written myself. I have shared the very same experiences. Belle experienced what a bad review was like, a threesome, what a difficult client was like, taking a break and missing Belle’s life and even more compelling…..what it is like to have your closest friend find out you get paid for sex. It covered many aspects of the business as we practice it here; the agency, the visits to the clinic, the competition. the phone calls at all hours of the day and night. It was something I was so glad I finally got a chance to see and was much more real to me than the impression I got from the books I had read.
While the on-screen Belle does not have the family life balance that I do, she has her own set of struggles juggling her personal life with that of Belle’s. It was quite entertaining to see it scripted and played out as it was. I’d suggest to any of you channel surfers out there to keep an eye for the series. They are in half-hour segment aired on Showcase; I will leave a link at the bottom of this page for airing dates if anyone is interested.
http://www.showcase.ca/ontv/titledetails.aspx?titleid=113104
It sounds like quite an uneventful evening and it most certainly started off that way. I drifted off shortly after feeling my feet warm up and was quite disappointed when I awoke, thinking I had slept the night away and missed the opportunity to just hang out in bed. Thankfully it was only midnight so I started channel surfing.
I caught the second half of “Flip this house”, A&E being my most favorite channel. Next was “Most Haunted”. I’ve caught this show a few times; working the grave shift allows me to be familiar with infomercials and from time to time a good haunting story. This one was filmed in an old lighthouse, I didn’t catch the location. Quite creepy some of the phenomenon going on and it’s right up my viewing alley. Then, there she was.
Belle. My pseudo-character. I wrote here about Showcase TV filming a series based on Belle de Jour’s books, “The Secret Life of a Call Girl”. I was overly excited to finally catch episode #5 and 6# tonight! I cannot tell you how peculiar it was to be watching a show based on something so close to my personal life. I suppose when the documentary I participated in finally airs on CTV I may find it even more so but this is the closest I had come to seeing my life portrayed on TV, right in front of my eyes. Something that I could relate so personally to, it was a very odd but exhilarating feeling just the same.
In this particular series, Belle is very much like me. Small breasted, not the most perfectly chiseled body and very down to earth. I found Belle’s book portrayed her more as a sex fiend, a porn star type escort who thrives on the rougher more physically arousing sex. I was happy to see that the Showcase series had toned down her personality to be more the girl-next-door, someone I could relate to a little better.
These two episodes I could have written myself. I have shared the very same experiences. Belle experienced what a bad review was like, a threesome, what a difficult client was like, taking a break and missing Belle’s life and even more compelling…..what it is like to have your closest friend find out you get paid for sex. It covered many aspects of the business as we practice it here; the agency, the visits to the clinic, the competition. the phone calls at all hours of the day and night. It was something I was so glad I finally got a chance to see and was much more real to me than the impression I got from the books I had read.
While the on-screen Belle does not have the family life balance that I do, she has her own set of struggles juggling her personal life with that of Belle’s. It was quite entertaining to see it scripted and played out as it was. I’d suggest to any of you channel surfers out there to keep an eye for the series. They are in half-hour segment aired on Showcase; I will leave a link at the bottom of this page for airing dates if anyone is interested.
http://www.showcase.ca/ontv/titledetails.aspx?titleid=113104
People watching at the mall
So, I find myself with a few spare hours to kill. What's a woman to do but shop? I know I make it sound like it's my thing, but really, it's not. And shopping when you're in a bad mood doesn't make it any more enjoyable. BUT, Christmas is coming and it must be done. So, I go to the mall here in the Falls. It's the worst place to shop but it's close and I don't feel like pulling out my Nuvi and taking directions from my cyber friend Emily. I find the perfect parking space. For most, this space would be closest to the front doors. For me, it's the spot that is close to no other cars and a place that when I am ready to leave I can pull right out of....no reversing for me.
It's 9:30 and I begin making the 20 minute trek from the back of the parking lot to the doors.
Ok, maybe not that long of a trek but when the snow is blowing it sure as hell felt like that. I make it through the doors and brush off my head as I stomp my feet. I look up to see that all the stores still have their metal gates across them. WTF??? It's one week before Christmas and the mall isn't open yet? But the cars out there, what the hell are all those people doing? I soon found out....they are mall walkers!
Now this is a concept I just don't get. Older people, dressed in their athletic gear and non-marking gym runners walk around the mall with their mall-walking buddies. On a good day I might think that is kinda cute. Today, I just think it's rather dumb. Now our mall layout is not like those big city malls one may be accustomed to. We have a centre court and a few hallways branching off of it. You cannot walk around in one big circle here. You can walk down a short hallway, then back up to centre court, then pick another hallway. That's it. And what is there to see at 9:45am when there is nothing open? I'm thinking I must be missing something here. So after I make my rounds to be sure there is not one store open that I can browse for 15 minutes, I decide to follow these freaks.
I now understand what the term "window shopping" means. This is what these people do. I wished I had been there when they began their walk, I'm assuming they did their stretches prior to such a workout. I caught up with them outside Coles book store . They had stopped to see the sign the associate was putting in the window. But they didn't really even stop. You know when you're drivng around like us lazy people do and you come to a red light. You see that jogger stopped on the sidewalk doing his little "run in place" routine till the light changes? Well, that's what mall walkers do as well. Damn they take this shit serious.
I listened to conversations about preparing Christmas dinner and the fancy way this one older lady ties her ribbons on all of the gifts she wraps. One man talked about his ill wife and seemed quite happy that she is getting along better 'these days'. There was general chatter about the weather outside and the storm about to blow in tomorrow. Nothing too exciting. I tried to figure out who was leading this cult as they seemed to know where they were going but they appeared more to be like a flock of birds that soar in sequence, like they have some pre-mapped mall route etched in their brains. Maybe it's like a human GPS. "In three metres take a right down Northern Reflections Lane", I can hear Emily say as I chuckle to myself. About 15 minutes of this and I was beat. Finally, I slipped into Radio Shack as the gates were opened, hopefully no one noticed my mockery.
After two hours of shopping I returned home. I layed out the gift wrap, the tags, the ribbon and the gifts I had just bought. I need to wrap these things before my kids get home. I decided to try the ribbon-tying technique I heard mentioned on my mall walk. Be dammed if I could not figure the fricken thing out! It sounded so simple but I am no Martha Stewart. So, next Saturday I plan to meet the mall walkers, with some ribbon in my hand at 9:45 and find this woman who can tie pretty bows. When I approach her and say "I was stalking you in the mall last Saturday eavestrophing on your conversation and I heard you mention tying gift bows....." I wonder who will be considered the freak then?
It's 9:30 and I begin making the 20 minute trek from the back of the parking lot to the doors.
Ok, maybe not that long of a trek but when the snow is blowing it sure as hell felt like that. I make it through the doors and brush off my head as I stomp my feet. I look up to see that all the stores still have their metal gates across them. WTF??? It's one week before Christmas and the mall isn't open yet? But the cars out there, what the hell are all those people doing? I soon found out....they are mall walkers!
Now this is a concept I just don't get. Older people, dressed in their athletic gear and non-marking gym runners walk around the mall with their mall-walking buddies. On a good day I might think that is kinda cute. Today, I just think it's rather dumb. Now our mall layout is not like those big city malls one may be accustomed to. We have a centre court and a few hallways branching off of it. You cannot walk around in one big circle here. You can walk down a short hallway, then back up to centre court, then pick another hallway. That's it. And what is there to see at 9:45am when there is nothing open? I'm thinking I must be missing something here. So after I make my rounds to be sure there is not one store open that I can browse for 15 minutes, I decide to follow these freaks.
I now understand what the term "window shopping" means. This is what these people do. I wished I had been there when they began their walk, I'm assuming they did their stretches prior to such a workout. I caught up with them outside Coles book store . They had stopped to see the sign the associate was putting in the window. But they didn't really even stop. You know when you're drivng around like us lazy people do and you come to a red light. You see that jogger stopped on the sidewalk doing his little "run in place" routine till the light changes? Well, that's what mall walkers do as well. Damn they take this shit serious.
I listened to conversations about preparing Christmas dinner and the fancy way this one older lady ties her ribbons on all of the gifts she wraps. One man talked about his ill wife and seemed quite happy that she is getting along better 'these days'. There was general chatter about the weather outside and the storm about to blow in tomorrow. Nothing too exciting. I tried to figure out who was leading this cult as they seemed to know where they were going but they appeared more to be like a flock of birds that soar in sequence, like they have some pre-mapped mall route etched in their brains. Maybe it's like a human GPS. "In three metres take a right down Northern Reflections Lane", I can hear Emily say as I chuckle to myself. About 15 minutes of this and I was beat. Finally, I slipped into Radio Shack as the gates were opened, hopefully no one noticed my mockery.
After two hours of shopping I returned home. I layed out the gift wrap, the tags, the ribbon and the gifts I had just bought. I need to wrap these things before my kids get home. I decided to try the ribbon-tying technique I heard mentioned on my mall walk. Be dammed if I could not figure the fricken thing out! It sounded so simple but I am no Martha Stewart. So, next Saturday I plan to meet the mall walkers, with some ribbon in my hand at 9:45 and find this woman who can tie pretty bows. When I approach her and say "I was stalking you in the mall last Saturday eavestrophing on your conversation and I heard you mention tying gift bows....." I wonder who will be considered the freak then?
Christmas Traditions
Christmas Traditions
Last year at about this time, I had posted about how much I was dreading Christmas day. It’s not like me, it’s my most favorite time of year. But with the rift in my family this year, as well as last, Christmas has been difficult. The only difference is that this year I will be a little more mature about it. Have I mentioned that I am so stubborn I would bite my nose to spite my face? Well, I am. Last year I broke the family tradition by spending the day at home away from my family. It broke my heart as I watched my kids, knowing just how much they wanted to go to Nana’s house for the traditional breakfast and gift-giving Christmas morning. But I would not back down. I was pissed off and I had a point to make. There was no way we were going and that was it!
I’ve had time to think about things since then. I still refuse to befriend my mother or my sister and I know there is no way I will ever back down from my stand on that issue. But I also realize that this is very likely the last Christmas we will have with my Great-Nana. With all of your prayers and support that you gave for my Nana, which had such a positive outcome I didn’t feel it appropriate to mention that a few weeks ago my Great-Nana was diagnosed with cancer. Unfortunately your prayers won’t be as helpful with her and we all know that. She is 95 and her time has come. The good part is that she is okay with it. She has declined any treatment save for Tylenol 3’s to make her more comfortable at night. So this Christmas will be a happy/sad holiday for the family but one I will not deny my kids this year.
So, Christmas morning I will wake up next to the tree as the kids excitedly tear apart their stockings. We’ll open our gifts at home and I will prepare the bird for dinner. Then, in our pj’s we will head to my Nana’s where all of my aunts, uncles, cousins (first, second and thirds) as well as my sister and brother will meet. We have one rule….no opening of gifts until everyone has eaten breakfast. It’s always a great spread of eggs, Canadian bacon and toast with plenty of eggnog, orange juice and tea. Then, it’s a mad house as the gifts (which usually tower the tree) are opened. It takes us until about noon and then we will leave.
The gift I’m most excited about this year? A surprise for my great-nana. The family has opened up a bank account and been depositing money to cover her private care in a nursing home. The first year will cost approximately $500/month until the government financing kicks in. To date we have raised almost $4000.00 and she has no idea. We are all quite excited to give her the good news as she is very eager to move into the home.
Then, it will be Christmas dinner at home. I have invited Homer in hopes that he is too busy to drive up here but even if he shows up I’m sure it will still be a perfect Christmas! Anyways, enough rambling about me….what are your plans? Any family traditions you would like to share?
Last year at about this time, I had posted about how much I was dreading Christmas day. It’s not like me, it’s my most favorite time of year. But with the rift in my family this year, as well as last, Christmas has been difficult. The only difference is that this year I will be a little more mature about it. Have I mentioned that I am so stubborn I would bite my nose to spite my face? Well, I am. Last year I broke the family tradition by spending the day at home away from my family. It broke my heart as I watched my kids, knowing just how much they wanted to go to Nana’s house for the traditional breakfast and gift-giving Christmas morning. But I would not back down. I was pissed off and I had a point to make. There was no way we were going and that was it!
I’ve had time to think about things since then. I still refuse to befriend my mother or my sister and I know there is no way I will ever back down from my stand on that issue. But I also realize that this is very likely the last Christmas we will have with my Great-Nana. With all of your prayers and support that you gave for my Nana, which had such a positive outcome I didn’t feel it appropriate to mention that a few weeks ago my Great-Nana was diagnosed with cancer. Unfortunately your prayers won’t be as helpful with her and we all know that. She is 95 and her time has come. The good part is that she is okay with it. She has declined any treatment save for Tylenol 3’s to make her more comfortable at night. So this Christmas will be a happy/sad holiday for the family but one I will not deny my kids this year.
So, Christmas morning I will wake up next to the tree as the kids excitedly tear apart their stockings. We’ll open our gifts at home and I will prepare the bird for dinner. Then, in our pj’s we will head to my Nana’s where all of my aunts, uncles, cousins (first, second and thirds) as well as my sister and brother will meet. We have one rule….no opening of gifts until everyone has eaten breakfast. It’s always a great spread of eggs, Canadian bacon and toast with plenty of eggnog, orange juice and tea. Then, it’s a mad house as the gifts (which usually tower the tree) are opened. It takes us until about noon and then we will leave.
The gift I’m most excited about this year? A surprise for my great-nana. The family has opened up a bank account and been depositing money to cover her private care in a nursing home. The first year will cost approximately $500/month until the government financing kicks in. To date we have raised almost $4000.00 and she has no idea. We are all quite excited to give her the good news as she is very eager to move into the home.
Then, it will be Christmas dinner at home. I have invited Homer in hopes that he is too busy to drive up here but even if he shows up I’m sure it will still be a perfect Christmas! Anyways, enough rambling about me….what are your plans? Any family traditions you would like to share?
Play by the rules! Another long Belle rant.
Trust. Let me ask you, how many people do you truly trust? Do you limit that trust to your family or do you extend it to your network of friends? Do you ask that one earn your trust or do you give it to them freely until they prove your trust unworthy? We, as humans like to think that we are good people and because of that like to give the same assumption to those around us. But have you ever regretted giving your trust to someone?
I used to be an open book. I wore my heart on my sleeve so to speak. If someone needed me, I was there. And if I needed someone I did not hesitate to seek their help. I wanted to believe that, like me, those I chose to give my trust to, deserved that trust. It took one heartache after another before I gave this any thought. It wasn’t long before I felt I could trust no one.
I began to believe that if I did not rely on someone, if I did not open myself up to them, they could not hurt me. I did not want to be hurt again and so I built a wall. Many of do this I think, to protect ourselves. It’s human nature not to expose ourselves to unwarranted pain. It can be a very good thing to carefully select those you decide to let in. I took it to the extreme and closed myself off to everyone around me.
When Belle became a part of my life I saw it as an opportunity to unlock a part of me that I have kept hidden for so long, yet am able to still keep myself safe emotionally. I could release that passion I had for so long deprived myself of feeling. More importantly, I could allow myself to feel the touch of a man and let it warm me. It had been so long. But there were boundaries and I needed that. It is a game and with every game there is an objective and rules of play. Each round is different and the players may change but the rules and the objective remain the same.
But, as with any game you play some do not play by the rules. They cheat to get ahead. What are the consequences you are to give to those who cheat? Do you not let them play anymore and forfeit the game? I played this game and I gave a player my trust. He cheated, he broke the rules and now I am so upset with myself having let it get that far. He wanted to make his own rules and this is what I don’t get.
You open the game of Monopoly. You lay the board on the table, set up the players, designate the banker, read the rules, be sure everyone understands them and then you roll the dice. Now, you don’t make up the rules as you go along….that is why they come with rules. Belle is no different. Form day one to today; two years later, my rules have not changed. When you pass go, you collect two hundred dollars. If you roll a three, you move three spaces. If you land on “go to jail” you go to jail. These are rules. I am no different.
My rules. My rate is my rate. Don’t try to bargain with me, I am not for sale. See me once, see me one thousand times, my rate is my rate. One hour is one hour. I will stay for my hour; I want to stay for that hour. It is the agreement we have made and I will hold to my agreement. But one hour is not 1.5 hours. Please don’t make me point this out to you. My name is Belle. No matter how many times you ask me, it will always be Belle. I do not ask you where you work or where you live. It clearly states in the rules that asking such questions is inappropriate. Keep in mind we are playing by the same rules. And the biggest rule that seems to be misunderstood……you ARE paying for my time. This means that, no matter what takes place during the time we have agreed upon….my rate is my rate. Dressed or undressed, eating dinner or romantically entwined in one another’s arms….my time is my time. If you would get upset, upon my arrival that I demanded more money that what was agreed upon then you could imagine how I feel when you ask more of me that what we had agreed upon.
I had recently told a player I would no longer play the game with him, we forfeited and it ended just like that. The two years of play was fun but once he bent the rules I was done. It started with the name. I gave him my name. I trusted him with that information. I soon came to realize he had a connection to my family and used that to his advantage. In fact, he even tried to bribe me knowing that I would do almost anything to protect my family form what I choose to do as Belle. He began to demand unpaid time together even going so far as to show up at my place of work. I would not give. I refused to see him again. So, he did as he threatened to do and went to a family member.
I feared this day would happen. The day that Belle’s world would come head to head with my personal world. I don’t deserve pity, I asked for it. Why? Because I let my guard down and trusted someone. You cannot be betrayed if you do not give someone your trust. I had it coming and damn it did come. I won’t hide behind Belle and be ashamed. When approached by this family member I was honest and upfront. That was over one month ago, I am coming to terms with it now. It hurt, not that this player owed me anything as I owned him nothing either. But he made his own rules and cheated to get ahead. I have no use for those who cheat.
The silent rules that apply in this business, they are there to protect everyone. When you pay a lady for her time, respect what she is giving you and please don’t ask for anything more than that. It makes for awkward moments when she must reiterate the fact that “It is what it is”. No matter the fun you have together or the connection you may feel with her… it is still a game and there are rules. Play by them and the game will go on. Break them and….. well, you know the saying….a woman scorned……
I used to be an open book. I wore my heart on my sleeve so to speak. If someone needed me, I was there. And if I needed someone I did not hesitate to seek their help. I wanted to believe that, like me, those I chose to give my trust to, deserved that trust. It took one heartache after another before I gave this any thought. It wasn’t long before I felt I could trust no one.
I began to believe that if I did not rely on someone, if I did not open myself up to them, they could not hurt me. I did not want to be hurt again and so I built a wall. Many of do this I think, to protect ourselves. It’s human nature not to expose ourselves to unwarranted pain. It can be a very good thing to carefully select those you decide to let in. I took it to the extreme and closed myself off to everyone around me.
When Belle became a part of my life I saw it as an opportunity to unlock a part of me that I have kept hidden for so long, yet am able to still keep myself safe emotionally. I could release that passion I had for so long deprived myself of feeling. More importantly, I could allow myself to feel the touch of a man and let it warm me. It had been so long. But there were boundaries and I needed that. It is a game and with every game there is an objective and rules of play. Each round is different and the players may change but the rules and the objective remain the same.
But, as with any game you play some do not play by the rules. They cheat to get ahead. What are the consequences you are to give to those who cheat? Do you not let them play anymore and forfeit the game? I played this game and I gave a player my trust. He cheated, he broke the rules and now I am so upset with myself having let it get that far. He wanted to make his own rules and this is what I don’t get.
You open the game of Monopoly. You lay the board on the table, set up the players, designate the banker, read the rules, be sure everyone understands them and then you roll the dice. Now, you don’t make up the rules as you go along….that is why they come with rules. Belle is no different. Form day one to today; two years later, my rules have not changed. When you pass go, you collect two hundred dollars. If you roll a three, you move three spaces. If you land on “go to jail” you go to jail. These are rules. I am no different.
My rules. My rate is my rate. Don’t try to bargain with me, I am not for sale. See me once, see me one thousand times, my rate is my rate. One hour is one hour. I will stay for my hour; I want to stay for that hour. It is the agreement we have made and I will hold to my agreement. But one hour is not 1.5 hours. Please don’t make me point this out to you. My name is Belle. No matter how many times you ask me, it will always be Belle. I do not ask you where you work or where you live. It clearly states in the rules that asking such questions is inappropriate. Keep in mind we are playing by the same rules. And the biggest rule that seems to be misunderstood……you ARE paying for my time. This means that, no matter what takes place during the time we have agreed upon….my rate is my rate. Dressed or undressed, eating dinner or romantically entwined in one another’s arms….my time is my time. If you would get upset, upon my arrival that I demanded more money that what was agreed upon then you could imagine how I feel when you ask more of me that what we had agreed upon.
I had recently told a player I would no longer play the game with him, we forfeited and it ended just like that. The two years of play was fun but once he bent the rules I was done. It started with the name. I gave him my name. I trusted him with that information. I soon came to realize he had a connection to my family and used that to his advantage. In fact, he even tried to bribe me knowing that I would do almost anything to protect my family form what I choose to do as Belle. He began to demand unpaid time together even going so far as to show up at my place of work. I would not give. I refused to see him again. So, he did as he threatened to do and went to a family member.
I feared this day would happen. The day that Belle’s world would come head to head with my personal world. I don’t deserve pity, I asked for it. Why? Because I let my guard down and trusted someone. You cannot be betrayed if you do not give someone your trust. I had it coming and damn it did come. I won’t hide behind Belle and be ashamed. When approached by this family member I was honest and upfront. That was over one month ago, I am coming to terms with it now. It hurt, not that this player owed me anything as I owned him nothing either. But he made his own rules and cheated to get ahead. I have no use for those who cheat.
The silent rules that apply in this business, they are there to protect everyone. When you pay a lady for her time, respect what she is giving you and please don’t ask for anything more than that. It makes for awkward moments when she must reiterate the fact that “It is what it is”. No matter the fun you have together or the connection you may feel with her… it is still a game and there are rules. Play by them and the game will go on. Break them and….. well, you know the saying….a woman scorned……
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