I Am Angry…

photo (4)
[Polo Beach]

There are so many things I’ve wanted to say to you
But they are all filled with anger and spite.
You hurt me with your lack of enthusiasm.
You hurt me when you wanted someone else.
You hurt me with your lack of trust.

I am angry with you, yes,
But most of all I am angry with myself
For trusting you,
For opening up to you,
For allowing you see a side of me I’ve never shown to anyone.

I am angry that I have to close myself off again
And rebuild walls that had taken years to break down.
I am angry that I found a part of myself I didn’t think I would ever get to share,
Only to have it yanked away from me.
And I am sad that I don’t have a way to express that side of me anymore.


I Hate Him…

[BDSM symbol]

Many years ago I came to the realization that I liked my sex rough and I had dreams of being bound, gagged, and whipped. Living in a small town, it was futile trying to find a man who also had those dreams, albeit from the other side. After 20 years and moving across an ocean, I finally met one. And I hate him.

Our relationship lasted only long enough for me to get a taste of what my life could be like. He introduced me to FetLife where he assured me I could find a plethora of like-minded people and all my kinky dreams would come true. What I found instead was an island filled with people who expect you to live up to certain standards – and if you don’t meet those standards, you are shunned from the BDSM society.

So I really hate the man that introduced me to FetLife. I could have spent the rest of my life, knowing what I desired and not getting it, yes, but not having it shoved in front of me like a carrot in front of a trotting horse. “Yes, it’s all here but you can’t have any.” I may have been miserable but now I despair. Finding a man is hard enough (especially at my age) but finding one who will Dominate me and take me to the levels I’ve never been to before is impossible…

Water Off A Duck’s Back…

Ducks Taking Flight

There was a time when I was a pretty easygoing person. Everything slid off me, like water off a duck’s back. Since I’ve had no one to talk to the last few years, all those things have been getting bottled up and pushed down and then the slightest thing can frustrate me, sending me into a verbal and emotional tirade. Dropping a spoon, for instance, or some glitch in my computer. I’ve noticed these tirades happen at home at the end of a long workday or on weekends after an exhausting week. Although a lot of my frustration seems to come from riding the bus. I really need to get a car…