Indigo Tries the Pierre and Packer Pouch

For the Pierre: 10 out of 10

For the Packer Pouch: 4 out of 10

Pairs nicely with a nice 7&7 because the average score is 7. Not a bad drink, but not the best either. And only one of the ingredients is the issue. The other is gold.

These two items were sent to me by Betty’s Toybox. They are a great company who have lifted me up multiple times as a new blogger. If you’re interested in the pouch, you can buy it for $19 USD at time of publishing. If you’re interested in the Pierre, you can peruse four color choices ranging from Cashew to Chocolate. They are priced at $50 USD at time of publishing.

The New York Toy Collective Pierre and Packer Pouch sit on a small wooden table. The Pierre is roughly the color of a shelled cashew nut, and it is about 4 inches long. The Pierre also has testicles that are about 3 inches long and is modeled to look like an uncircumcised penis. Next to it is the packer pouch, which is plan black nylon with a New York Toy Collective logo on the bottom right corner.

It’s been a long time that I’ve wanted to try a packer. When I was with my last partner, I used socks occasionally and we would try out masculine terms during playtime. It felt right more often than I thought it would, considering how my gender fluctuates. Since those experiments, I have wanted a packer that felt more real and mindful of this purpose. I wanted it to be penis-shaped and the color of my skin (roughly). I wanted it to be used for that purpose so I wouldn’t feel like I had to fake it.

When I had the opportunity to ask for a packer from Betty’s Toybox and a packer pouch to match, I was so looking forward to having my own dick. And when the Pierre arrived, it was perfect.

Now, because of who I am as a person, I know the way to accurately measure how big someone’s penis is based on their hand. This assumes that the person in question is proportional. I learned this from a nurse, but it’s hard to describe through text. So if we ever meet in person, remind me to show to the dick length trick. Anyhow, through this trick, I’ve always known that had I been born with a penis, I would have one that was average length at most (about 5-6 inches) and with a wide diameter.

I have never once met a dick I didn’t like. Dicks are great no matter their size or width. Sometimes the people attached to them are less than favorable, but the dicks themselves are excellent. So my dick would be a little shorter and wider than the “average” dick, which makes me incredibly happy. I am pleased to know my body, even if it is hypothetical. As a result, I felt the Pierre and was immediately pleased by it. The length, the girth and the feel of it were all correct. It felt good in my hands.

The Pierre is pure silicone, with a soft shore. It’s modeled to look like a flaccid, uncircumcised penis with testicles at the base. Mine is in cashew color, which is the palest option. The penis length is 4.75″ and it’s width is about 1″. Because it is pure silicone, it can be sterilized through boiling or bleach/water mix. I haven’t worried too much about that with the Pierre because it’s only a soft packer, so it doesn’t get used except in a cotton housing.

In wear, the Pierre is very much like a small dream come true. The weight of it is wonderful, and I love how the size just peeks from between my hips. When I wear this with tight pants, it’s a definite bulge, but if I wear it with my usual baggy cargo pants, it becomes a little secretive. It’s something I remember when I walk in an unusual way, or sit and try to place my hands in my lap. I love both of these unique feelings, but more commonly, I choose the baggy pants because it’s less obtrusive in my small city (surrounded by conservatives).

With the Pierre being raved about, let me talk about the packer pouch. These are both items made by New York Toy Collective. I love the company because they never use words like “flesh-colored” and instead use foods to denote color. They also have a wide array of items for both trans folx as well as toys that are just plain fun to use. I also love their social media, which normalizes packing, including gender bending. It’s common for me to see short clips showing off how a particular dick looks in a skirt or short shorts. I thoroughly enjoy seeing folx like myself in their advertising and I look forward to seeing more.

So the packer pouch is far less expensive at $19 USD. It’s a simple and ingenious really. I thought “how could this work with every pair of underwear?” Well, it’s a simple nylon pouch with one edge of the opening longer than the other. In that longer side, there are strong magnets. This long edge can be folded over the top of underwear and they line up with magnets in the front of the pouch, which holds it in place.

So it does in fact work with every pair of underwear. However, the pouch is only about five inches long once put in place. This is where the pouches problems become apparent. As I placed it into my first trial underwear, I realized that five inches is not quite enough for me, though I’m uncertain if it is because my torso is long, if I’m too fat or if I just wear my underwear higher than most. Any of these could be the reason that this pouch didn’t work for me.

On a small wooden table sits the New York Toy Collective Packer Pouch with the Pierre inside. You can just see the outline of the Pierre's head and testicles, but the light doesn't reveal much more.

Here’s what happened: I would put the pouch on with my Pierre inside and I would begin my day’s work. After awhile, I would stop to use the restroom, and I would notice that the pouch had moved. One time, it almost fell into a toilet in a Staples and I just about had a heart attack. So I used a thinner underwear on my second trial. My men’s underwear is thick and cotton, so I thought the change would help the pouch stay in place. However, the same issue happened. Sometimes it was because of the magnets coming unattached, but often I would tug the pouch to sit somewhere more natural, and it would come undone.

In essence, there was no easy way for me to wear this pouch long term. I believe that someone smaller than me (either in length or width), will have an easier time wearing this pouch and using it for it’s intended purpose.

It was really hard for me to write this review, because I wanted to love both of these products so much. I wanted to wear this more days than not and have it feel as natural as the Pierre did in my hands. I put off writing it, trying it with different underwear, and new combinations of clothes. It just did not accomplish what I hoped it would.

So between these two products, the Pierre was a clear winner for me and a packer I will use whenever I can with other harnesses. However, the packer pouch will probably live in my underwear drawer, waiting to be used. It didn’t feel right to review them separately, because each other depended on the other for use. As a result, this review might be a bit longer than usual, but I hope that it is still useful for folx looking in this as an option.

These two items were sent to me by Betty’s Toybox. They are a great company who have lifted me up multiple times as a new blogger. If you’re interested in the pouch, you can buy it for $19 USD at time of publishing. If you’re interested in the Pierre, you can peruse four color choices ranging from Cashew to Chocolate. They are priced at $50 USD at time of publishing.

What Happens When Your Femininity Doesn’t Fit the Script?

This is another personal essay that I have poured some heart and soul into. These types of posts are common as I travel, because I’m often spending time by myself. These things are healthy for me to reflect on. By writing them (even in the throes of emotion), I hope to either open a dialogue, or to help someone else not feel quite so alone. 

Trigger Warnings: Fatphobia, Eating/Food/Weight Talk, Suicidal Ideations, Mental Health Problems

I have made no secret of the fact that I was assigned female at birth. I also have often talked about my childhood as a tomboy. As a kid, I always stood out. My parents were older, and when my sister rejected me for the first 15 years of my life, I figured out how to be alone. Despite teachers consistently pairing me with other “loners,” I stubbornly refused to fit in with others. I did what I wanted for the most part, and I liked what I did. I would not let anyone else ruin that for me.

When I started Kindergarten, I was about average weight with the other kids. I was mostly happy to be in school, and even though I didn’t have consistent friends, I socialized well and I charmed many of the teachers. Somehow, for most of my childhood, I hid stress and sorrow, including from myself. A lot of these things had to do with the parenting style I was exposed to. In addition, I was witness to many family fights, and often subject guilt trips from my mother. Growing up, I didn’t have boundaries to set my life on a healthy track, physically or emotionally. It is by shear luck that I am smart as I am, which saved me in school.

However, as a result of this, and some genetics, I was overweight by the time I was in 4th grade. I remember hiding it under clothes as large as I could get. I have no memories of wearing Medium as a size because I moved to Large as soon as I could. I always reasoned that I would lose the weight and wear a Medium when I was in high school, when I was in college, as an adult. I spent years looking at diets, marveling at the before and after pictures. I wondered how those people had so much will power. And what did they have that I didn’t? I was smart and strong and committed. Why didn’t I just shed weight like them?

I was 9 years old.

My father passed the same year I hit puberty. I was 12. My feet grew two sizes in one summer, and the rest of my followed. Soon, I was wearing Extra Large instead of Large. I was taller than everyone in middle school, and I began to hunch, trying so hard to blend in. At the very least, I wanted to be ignored. I had a hard time keeping up with my growth. After 7th grade, all my pants were showing my ankles, so I chopped them into shorts, which also shortened to show my knees.

I learned how to live with unflattering clothes when my school adopted uniforms. Nothing fit right, and though colors didn’t matter, I felt more out of place than ever. I found small ways to break the rules. Colored socks, hats, wristbands. Anything to make myself feel like myself again. Because school was all I did. My depression and family loss made it impossible to be social otherwise. So I held onto my own identity desperately, even though I didn’t even know what it was. One day, I was called out by a teacher for wearing knee-high socks that were brightly colored. My very thin and attractive best friend was standing right next to me with fluorescent striped thigh-highs. She was ignored.

Now that I reflect, I understand my entire identity revolved around NOT fitting in. I embraced my height and my fatness as much as possible. I ate what I wanted and I took no shit from my peers. I became a master at charming teachers so I could be by myself as often as possible. While so many other girls were flirting and chatting, I was reading, or scowling into my lunch. Throughout middle school, a single person expressed interest in getting to know me romantically. He was cute and I would have tried, except that I didn’t believe or trust him. This narrative would be repeated until I was 20.

Physically, I continued to grow. I now stand at 5’10” and I weight roughly 290 pounds. I am intimidating. Friends often looked to me for protection, and I learned how to be the bouncer for us when we went out. These instincts later fueled a joke that I was the Dad-friend. They aren’t wrong. I continue to be intimidating to most people who don’t know me, and this leads many people to leave me alone. I have been cat-called a total of 4 times in my life. Two of those times I was with friends with friends (so I may not have been the target). I have been asked on dates only thrice. All other times, I have initiated.  I hear people complain about being cat-called or bothered at bars, and I am envious. Cat-calling is not okay for anyone and I want it? What the fuck is wrong with this?

When femininity is measured by the response cis-men have to you, it leaves people like me largely ignored, and feeling isolated and unseen. To this day, I still wonder if people interested in me are just playing a cruel joke.

I heard about other women being flirted with, asked out, bought drinks, and cat-called. A lot of them learned to base their worth on these things, and they had been judged worthy (though it was precariously placed in the hands of others). However, without those things to deem me worthy, I adopted “worthless.” I lived my life in as much shadow as I could. No one could prove to me I was worth anything. Anytime one person tried, the rest of the system denied it. Entire social systems against one small, depressed girl.

I wish I could say it’s better now. But wherever I turn, I see more fat hate. I see more messages telling me I’m wrong for being non-binary. People DM me and are mad that I tell them up front “I am not a woman.” I hear friends say “You were a really cute girl, and it will be sad to lose it.” My only question is: By whose standards was I cute? Clearly not most of the men I met. Clearly not most of the women. Clearly not society at large. Because almost no one ever said these things to me when I was a woman. Only seven people in my life had ever visibly and openly demonstrated that they thought I was worth noticing.

My mother consistently asks me about my Testosterone shots. When will I stop them? Why do I need them?

Here’s the truth mom: I need them because I’ve never been a woman. I’ve been Othered even when I TRIED to be a woman. When I tried all the ways possible to be more feminine, I was still ignored. I use Testosterone to help me feel like I belong in my body because my body never fit any mold anyway. And honestly, I don’t have ANY idea what you think will happen when/if I stop testosterone. Will I suddenly be seen as “acceptable?” Will I suddenly find a man and settle down like my sisters?

NO. FUCK NO.

Because I am tall. Because I am fat. Because I am not traditionally pretty. Because even without testosterone, my body was deemed “undesirable” by the world at large. I finally feel at peace with that decision. I finally feel like I have control over that decision. Yes, I am having an even harder time than ever finding someone to love, and that makes me sad. But I finally love my hips and my curves. I love the beard that grows when I don’t shave. I love how my jawline is hardening. I love my hairy legs.

I still haven’t been deemed worthy by society, and that still stings. It always will. But I have been deemed worthy by myself. It’s the one tiny bit of hope that I’m using to stay alive, and it’s still precarious. Why would you ever want to take away that last protection?

 

Indigo Tries the Lust Arts Frank’s Monster!

10 out of 10

Pairs very nicely with Whiskey Sour. It’s got full flavor and it’s very iconic. Not to mention that one too many will leave you in stitches (heeeyo).

This toy was sent to me by Lust Arts in exchange for a fair and honest review. At time of posting, it retails from $55 to $145, and you can purchase it here!

Two versions Lust Arts Frank's Monster sit on a rock together. One head sits on the other's shaft. The toys both look like their have stitches and wounds to mimic Frankenstein's Monster. One is purple and one is white.

Lust Arts came onto my radar originally through Frank’s Monster. Someone posted a photo of this dildo in the sex blogger chatroom and mentioned that it would probably be a monster to clean (pun intended, as always). I agreed, based on the photo. Those holes looked so deep and I just imagined all the vag gunk that would inevitably live in there. When I was able to chat with the owner, I offered an extra review because I could NOT choose between the Unicorn Horn and the Monster. Because I needed to see how this would clean. I needed to.

I am happy to say this finally: This toy is incredibly easy to clean. The 100% silicone means it sanitizes with soap and water, and the holes being deep was an illusion, produced by an inner core of black silicone, which peeps out where the outer color is shallow (in those “holes”). The soap and water washes everything away fantastically, and this toy takes no extra time to clean, while also being visually stunning.

And as a sex blogger, I am not ashamed to say that I noticed all of this as soon as I pulled out the toy. Because these are the things I think about now.

Now, because I am a lucky duck, there was a slight flaw in my first toy (which was in the Orchid/Purple color). This one is a firm inner core with a medium outer core, which I’ll talk more about later. However, because this one had a flaw, the owner sent me a second one, which I requested in Classic Film/White. This one, I also requested in the Medium core with a Soft outside. I did this because I felt that it would be more natural for a toy to be softer on the outside, which is true for me. I also wanted to be able to review the toy in more aspects, so I just went one step softer on each.

Two versions of Lust Art's Frank's Monster's sit on a rock. Both are on their bases, so they look erect. There is wheat in the background.

If you decide that White, Purple, and Green are not enough options, then there are custom options too!

Now, the lovely owner also knows I am a size kweeng. So I received both of these toys in the largest size, the Pounder. This size is 7″ insertable, and is 2.75″ at it’s largest diameter. It’s a perfect size for me to struggle just a little on initial insertion and then firmly conquer. I have gotten into the habit of starting with my White one (medium/soft) and then moving up to the Purple (firm/medium). The softer one allows my muscles to acclimate to the girth of the toy a little bit at a time. And I love being able to squeeze the toys I use because I like to show off my core. However, the firm one matches my usual routine of abusing my body with as much pressure and fight back as possible.

This toy is one of the most unique toys I’ve used in awhile. There is a gentle curve in the shaft of the toy, that perfectly places it into my g-spot. However, there is a selection of texture up and down the shaft. The combination is amazing, because I love texture, and I love g-spot sensation. This toy works perfectly whether I want to insert it and squeeze while I use a vibe, but it doesn’t slack off on the thrusting thanks to that texture.

As I always will when talking about Lust Arts, I have to mention the sizing options available. Now, they don’t use words like “Small” and “Large,” because that makes some people uncomfortable. They use names like “Teaser” and “Moaner” and “Pounder.” At first, these seemed a bit out of place, but after some thought, I realize that I love these names. Lust Arts knows what they do and they lean into it. Those names are cheeky and not shaming. Now, I feel like when I see them, it makes my purchase a fun one, and I can embrace it. The most important thing about the sizing options is that they are there. And that paired with the color is what really brings this toy up to a 10.The white version of Lust Art's Frank's monster sits on it's base on a rock. There are many more rocks behind it.

I think everyone could find something they like about this toy. If it’s not great in use, it’s a masterful art piece. If it’s too big, there are smaller sizes. If it’s too firm, there’s soft silicone options. I feel like Lust Arts as a company has thought of so many things. And they have been so open to correcting for things they haven’t thought of.

This toy was sent to me by Lust Arts in exchange for a fair and honest review. At time of posting, it retails from $55 to $145, and you can purchase it here!

Indigo Tries the Lust Arts Unicorn Horn!

9 out of 10

Pairs nicely with a Sex on the Beach. I do mean the drink, but also the act. It’s a little bit magical and full of fruity goodness.

This toy was sent to me by Lust Arts, and you can purchase it here. It ranges from $40 USD to $130 USD at time of posting. Prices vary based on color choice and size choice.

A photo of the Lust Arts Unicorn Horn. It sits on a dirt patch, with wheat growing around it. In the background is a majestic blue sky.

This is part of my series: Sex Toys in National Parks.

A few months ago, I was approached by Lust Arts not just for reviews, but also for some consulting. As we know, I love to work with companies that are willing to pay and pay fairly. When I was politely approached by them, I happily sent my rates and since then, my interactions with them have been nothing but pleasant and lovely. It is rare to find a company so forward, transparent and willing to work with small bloggers like me (though I acknowledge I am not as small as I used to be).

I am here to talk about one specific toy; the Unicorn Horn. But I highly recommend checking out Lust Arts for any variety of their toys.

When I started blogging, I saw Split Peaches and the unicorn horns they make, but I wasn’t as excited about them. I liked them as an idea, yes. But they seemed a bit cartoon-like and I wasn’t as interested in the candy aesthetic. However, the idea was delightful, and I longed for a more grown up version of a unicorn horn dildo. Lust Arts delivered, describing their own horns as “high fantasy” and I cannot disagree. When I saw the Rainbow Agate color, I was very excited about the possibilities. But in the end, I chose the “Sunlight” option. The gold base is perfectly paired with a pearly white horn. This made my inner small girl scream.

Story Time! As a kid, I loved unicorns. I had a set of paper plates and cups that had unicorns on them for a birthday party. When the day came, I hid them in my room because I didn’t want them to get ruined with food. They sat in my dresser for years before they finally got tossed. This is how much I loved unicorns.

So when I saw the Sunlight coloring, what else could I do, but fulfill all my girlhood dreams of owning my own unicorn that would love me unconditionally and make all my dreams come true?

Well, this toy is certainly a new favorite of mine. I won’t lie; a good portion of that love comes from the novelty of having a truly majestic look to it. It’s detailed and angled in a beautiful way that reminds me of the novels I read growing up. However, this toy is also a really great toy to use.

Personally, I have the largest size because I am size royalty. The Screamer size is 8″ insertable and up to a 2.3″ diameter at the base. All sizes have the measurements posted for all toys on the Lust Arts website, which is another reason I love them, but I digress. When I received this, I was worried I wouldn’t be able to take all of the toy. However, I proved myself wrong quickly, and I genuinely think it has to do with the shape of the toy. The gradual increase of the diameter from .85″ to 2.3″ is wonderful for training. I have even used this in my ass, and as a result, I can take even bigger toys than before. It has the perfect gradient for stretching, which means I’ll probably use this toy for others as well, if I ever get the privilege of helping someone train a hole.

Now, aside from being a convenient shape, how does this dildo feel? Well I will admit that a few people may not like the shape of this. Some folks find cone shapes to be boring. Personally, I genuinely love the feeling of being stretched, so I love this toy for that reason. However, I think that this particular dildo has a better chance of being enjoyable than others, even if you don’t like cone shapes. The horn is so textured that it prevents the shape from being boring, even around the smaller end. I can feel the differences in the spirals and I enjoy using this toy, even if I don’t insert it all the way. If you like stretching, don’t be afraid to get a bigger size!

Because I love firm toys so much, I definitely got the firmest silicone I could. However, I also love how squishy this toy is, and I believe even the softer silicone would be a joy to use. Additionally, there is an option for custom colors. When considering the color, size and shore all come with variable option, this dildo is extremely versatile.

The Lust Arts Unicorn horn sits in a dirt patch right in front of a green tree root. In the immediate background is a stream. It's a beautiful wooded scene with moss and ferns.

How could I not? This stream was magical.

As some of my readers may know, I’ve been living on the road for about two months now. This was one of the toys I brought with me, and not just because I had to do this review. This toy is easy to clean, and easy to use. I even use it without breaking out my lube samples because it inserts so easily. Rest assured, that this toy travels well and will be coming with me when I travel again.

Over all, I love this toy. The aesthetic of it is a perfect blend of my childhood dreams and my adult desires. I love how it feels, and how easy it is to use and clean. I genuinely love the company that makes this toy and the owner is respectful and lovely to work with. I cannot wait to see more from them, and I think this toy has potential for a lot of people to enjoy it. And those COLORS.

This toy was sent to me by Lust Arts, and you can purchase it here. It ranges from $40 USD to $130 USD at time of posting. Prices vary based on color choice and size choice.

Indigo is a Bottom!

10 out of 10 (for me, anyway)

Pairs nicely with a daiquiri. It’s sweet, smooth, and most of the time, it’s fruity.

Last week, I had sex with a new partner, and this interaction turned out to be really good for me, for a lot of reasons. You can read about the fun times I had, but right now I want to focus on one of the main thoughts that I pulled from this from this interaction, which was a simple sentence: “Reciprocity is subjective.”

Now, my companion said this the in the morning morning as we cuddled and chatted about the sex the night before. He complimented the noises I made, and my giggle, and how hot it was when I squirted. Of course, I giggled though this and was elated at the positive attention. I mentioned that I get extremely wrapped up in my own body and sensations, which makes me less like to reciprocate actions. Usually, you don’t want something in my mouth while I’m being pleasured because I lose focus. 69 is…not the best sex act for me to perform, honestly.

And then he dropped that bit of wisdom, and if I had been more awake, or less in post-morning-orgasm-bliss, I would have talked a lot about how that exact line affected me. Honestly, maybe it’s a good thing because he would have kicked me out for all my chatting at 5 AM. Because in all honesty, it revolutionized how I think about sex, and specifically my style of sex.

Since I’ve been having sex, I’ve been primarily a bottom. One ex has even described be as a “power bottom.” I don’t disagree with this statement. I have something weird with my sense of touch. Sometimes, the sensations I feel take over whatever I’m doing and I lost all autonomy. I very often don’t know what to do with myself during an orgasm, which has in the past ended in me chewing up shirt collars, sheets, pillows, or partners. I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not sure my partners would want to hear that. I’ve always experienced tactile sensations this way; they permeate my being. I touch things that I like to look at to make sure they feel as good as they look. I feel pain from where it happens to all over my body. This makes me good at communicating what I like, though I can’t always make my mouth work fast enough once the sex starts. It makes me good at edging myself. It makes me a great receiver for pain, pleasure, and every sensation between or around those.

However, when my partner described me as a power bottom, I was worried this title meant it such that I never fulfill others’ needs in the bedroom. I am consistently worried about being a good service submissive, and making sure my Doms or Daddies are happy. To be called a power bottom unraveled everything I thought of myself. I think I’ve honestly struggled with this particular statement for years.

So what do I offer in bed? Well, I’ve been told I’m good. I even wrote a post about how good I am. But I always have a doubt in the back of my mind that it’s all beautiful lies. Perhaps all my partners just say I’m good to placate me. Perhaps they all fake their orgasms. Though I enjoy giving and I do perform many physical acts with (and for) my partners, I do often remember the times that I have received acts more clearly. Those are the moments that I really focus on when I’m writing erotica or masturbating. Because those are the acts that linger in my memories, does that mean that receiving is all I do? Does it mean that my partners are left to please themselves after I’m finished with them?

Well no, and all of those thoughts are wrapped up in a complex guilt issue that I have, which is the result of years of verbal and emotional abuse. I’m constantly seeking affirmation, and now I think I can finally give that to myself. Because reciprocity is subjective. So receiving a fist, or a tongue is my way of giving. I can give someone an excellent and fulfilling time by having orgasm after orgasm. As long as that is what they want. On top of all the acts that I love being on the receiving end of, I can still talk to partners and listen to their wants and needs. I can give more blow jobs, or hand jobs. I can dirty talk more. If I don’t focus on giving a physical act naturally, that doesn’t mean I can’t change my focus. If I’m going to learn how my partner wants to be shown pleasure, I can also learn how to give them pleasure.

When someone has sex with me and decides they want to do so again, it means they enjoy what I offer. There is not a tangible or quantifiable way to measure reciprocity. My form of giving back in energy and reaction, is the same as someone giving back in blow jobs. I can now fully believe that I do “reciprocate” in sex I have. This revelation is proof that I need to be a slut more often and sleep with cool people who say cool things.

Indigo Has Drunken Sex!

Either 10 or 0 out of 10 AND NO WHERE BETWEEN THAT.

Pairs nicely with Jameson. That seems to be the typical drink of my best/worst decisions. However, it may work out better if you add in a cheap beer, rum and/or tequila. Please don’t kill yourself. I have the constitution of a 18-hand horse. You might not.

*ALSO PLEASE DRINK AND FUCK RESPONSIBLY. COERCION IS BAD. IF YOU’RE THE ONLY SOBER ONE, THAT. IS. COERCION.*

This summer, I have spent all of my time out in Colorado, living in a tent, and going to some pretty excellent drinking events. On the fourth of July, I enjoyed a particularly good party on a bit of land where the neighbors weren’t close, and there were plenty of trees to muffle our fairly loud revelry. And against all my own advice, I got extremely drunk. We played a few rounds of beer pong and I was getting good, before they passed me some whiskey, and then I was right back to being awful at it. And throughout the night, I had teased one other party-goer. Usually when I have a beer in hand, I’ll either cuss you out or kiss you. If you’re really lucky, it’s both. This guy took all the insults I threw at him with a good humor (and if I recall correctly, threw some back). Though I was too drunk to notice, I realize now that he may have been watching me for most of the night.

As the party began to wind down, I was sitting underneath some cover and watching the rain pour. He walked up and began chatting. What we talked about is a bit fuzzy now, but it was innocent enough. Until he mentioned the words “Daddy Dom” and I immediately lost my chill. Somewhere in there, he clearly stated that he thought I was attractive, and he mentioned that he was a Daddy Dom, and I mentioned that I am a Little, and the order of events is lost to time, but these things all did happen somewhere.

I didn’t know him very well, but he was being so up front and extremely sweet. I asked him if I could kiss him. He said yes, and we did kiss, which sparked the chemistry that had been gently building over the night. I now wonder if I was so drunk that I didn’t notice the chemistry until that moment. I was in a group of new people I didn’t know, and that made me nervous, so that most likely also factored into my attention span.

He sat down and we began to chat about our sex lives, what we liked and some minimal negotiation. I wanted this, and even though we were both drunk (and therefore it was technically illegal), I decided to continue anyway. I don’t usually advise this, but I know myself as a slut, and he had earlier identified as a slut. Our negotiation even covered STI status and condom usage. As a result, our consent was informed, continuous, and enthusiastic. We spent a good half an hour chatting like this, which included a lot of compliments. He basically gushed about my hips, which was pretty amazing, as I feel they are often neglected.

Now, I don’t have a type. I have had sex with people of all shapes and sizes. When I do have a type, it usually turns out to be a personality trait that I enjoy. It turns out that whiskey and half an hour of compliments is sometimes exactly my type.

Well, as I said, we were all camping, so he had a trailer to sleep in. Not like a sleeping/live-in trailer though. It was a simple box with an air mattress, which as it turns is an EXCELLENT choice, and I would 100% repeat. He has a small stature, but I was completely in love with his dick, which had the perfect size to suck, and it felt amazing in every hole (and yes, we tried them ALL).

It’s taken me almost a week to unpack this interaction. Not in a bad way, quite the opposite. I have since spent many minutes (possibly hours) just remembering the compliments, and the movements. I remember the very thoughtful way he reassured me in the morning (and yes there was morning sex, which science has proven is the most delicious kind of sex). I remember the way he touched me, and listened to what I wanted. I remember how when I asked for less movement, but more pressure, he said “Thank you,” which had never happened before. I remember how this very drunk interaction was surprisingly romantic, and incredibly respectful.

Somewhere within this contemplation, I have realized something that shocks me a little bit: I am extremely depressed. I could have seen it coming. I’m in a new place, with new people. Most of my closest friends are far away, and I’m afraid to ask for help from those I can. I have spent more than usual amounts of time by myself. I am feeling unstable. Though I love the adventure, and I would never give this up, I’m also lonely. Even that night, I was battling anxiety and depression as I always am. But this turned into an amazing experience that I’ll probably hold on to forever.

So what happened that I could actually have this amazing sex without my brain interrupting every five minutes? Well, Jameson. And Corona. And someone genuinely excited about my body. All this meant that suddenly, my loneliness and second-guessing was gone. My brain could open up and let me relax into someone else’s bed. I wasn’t worried about catching feelings or if I was clean enough (though we both mentioned showering that day) or whether my oral would be good enough. Even in all that, I am very grateful to myself that we swapped our STI statuses, and I insisted on condoms every step of the way, which did involve delaying our interaction so he could grab some from the car. The alcohol allowed me to stop checking myself, and ask for things I really wanted. It allowed me to love every sensation I received. I was able to make every noise that my body told me to. On the other hand, it didn’t strip me of my roots, or common sense. It didn’t erase the need for protection and safety.

More than that, it allowed my senses to expand a bit. When my memories became a little less fuzzy, I thought about how dark it was in that trailer. However, I could also still experience everything as full as I would in a lit room. I didn’t see it with my eyes, but I felt it with my fingertips. I heard the sounds. I expanded my limbs, finding edges, walls and his body. With this limited information, I can still reconstruct the whole thing. The part that shocks me most? I also did this in the moments I was having sex. If you aren’t impressed, you don’t understand. My brain, inebriated as it was, interpreted senses to tell me about my environment in the same or similar language as another sense, which was essentially out of commission. Brains are so amazing, y’all.

So this is more of a personal story than an educational post, but I do want to hop in while I’m on the subject, on some very important things. This one drunk interaction was good, and I’ve had a lot of similar interactions with partners and lovers. Good, relaxed sex. It fulfilled me and helped me wake up happy. It helped me through the alcohol and the endorphins prevented a complete crash (because alcohol is still a depressant, even followed up with sex).

However, I’m not perfect. I have gotten drunk and had sex that I did not enjoy. Do I regret my decisions? No. I wasn’t coerced, and the other party was also drunk. It’s a policy of mine that if I have sex while drunk, that person is a partner of mine, or they are also drunk. And I try to inform all people I drunkenly approach of this. My one negative experience of drunk sex was at a con many years ago. I drank a LOT of rum. And I do mean almost an entire handle. I spent some time at a bar in the hotel I was in, and I met someone whose name I think was Brian. I don’t remember anymore, honestly. I had cotton mouth, he had alcohol-affected dick. Later, I left his room and walked to mine. I think I left him a note, explaining that he was nice, but he snored. I have no idea if that note was legible.

I think what I mean to say is that getting laid while inebriated (or high) is pretty fun. For some people in some situations it can be good (or great). But I don’t want to downplay the importance of decisions made around sex and consent while drunk. It just so happens that this person and I both knew how to have these conversations, and wanted each other. Alcohol helped me process the positive and negatives of being out in a new place with new people, and brought an interaction I might have otherwise missed.

 

Indigo Tries the Sola Sync!

8 out of 10

Pairs nicely with a Cape Cod (vodka and cranberry). It is smooth, and a little sour. But it’s basic and easy to drink.

This toy was sent to my by my friends at Shevibe.com! It retails for about 123 USD at time of posting, and you can find it here!

A large box sits on a chair. The front of it opens out and reveals the Sola Sync. It is a purple wand with an angle in the handle. It has chrome trim and a small circular remote is beside it in the box.

The Sola Sync has been on my radar for almost a year now. I was desperate to try one when I saw them at Woodhull last year. I loved the way the handle curved and it looked like it would be amazing for someone who has arthritis or possibly carpel tunnel. I loved the color of purple it was, and the sleek lines.

So when I Shevibe offered it to me, I was delighted to accept. I love wand vibrators and I was thoroughly expecting this one to be powerful and easy to use. That angle was going to happen immediately like magic, and I was going to have so many orgasms.

When the Sync arrived, I was surprised buy how big it was. Even though I had handled it in person, the photos online made it seem so dainty and refined. When I pulled it out of the box, I was surprised that it was about the length and width of my forearm. I was even more excited about it because somehow, size equated to power in my brain. I was wrong on that count, however.

The Sync costs over $100, which all seems to go into the design and the box. When I did unbox this toy, I immediately threw away the packaging because it was just too much. I did not want all that clutter in my already crowded toy area. However, if this is the one wand vibe you own, that box would be extremely nice to keep the Sync in. This fact does not escape me, as I am aware of my reviewer status, and thus my reviewer bias. However, it does feel like a bit much for this toy.

Though I have some form of nerve damage in my wrists, which sometimes acts up around weird angles and weights, I do not have arthritis, or diagnosed carpel tunnel (though at one point, I thought that is what I had). As a result, I’m going to try and talk about this toy with these caveats in mind.

A purple box sits on a chair. On top is the Sola Sync, with a white charging cable, the remote and a white storage bag.You see, I love the angle and the sleek look of this toy, but it isn’t great for me. As I hinted above, the power of this toy is someone lack-luster. It is not buzzy in my opinion, but it isn’t a very powerful rumble. I am, however a power slut. So if you find that toys are too powerful for you or just right, this toy would be great for you. I really wanted to love using it, but it’s so weak that I need to jam it into my clit in order to orgasm. That requires me grabbing the top of the toy, and negates that whole cool handle thing. If I used the handle, I feel like the wand will break in half under my strength. So I am more careful with this than perhaps I need to be. One day, I hope to use a toy that is L-shaped and I just jam the short side into my clit and pull up on the long side for that sweet pressure I need. But alas, the Sync is not that dream toy.

Additionally, I found the remote to be unnecessary for me. I don’t understand why one would need the remote because the handle is so long. I personally used the remote once for testing and then never used it again. However, I realize that I may be discounting someone’s disability because I don’t have that perspective. So with that complaint made, I am glad that the remote exists for those who might need it.

Now, the charging port was another small complaint I had. The actual plug-in part is so long and thin, I’m afraid I’m going to break it every time I try to charge the thing. If this toy is built with someone who has wrist or hand issues, having a shorter or entirely different charging port would probably be a good idea. I also feel like I’m breaking the silicone skin every time I stick the plug in there because it’s so tight of a fit (euphemism intended).

The Sync charged in just under two hours for me, and it never ran out of juice, so it goes for at least four hours (estimating off my average wanking time and how long I had it while I was at home). This is a huge point in favor of this toy. This along with the very refreshing design, and the fancy box are what I feel makes the price tag so high.

Overall, I really like the sync for someone’s first wand, except for the very high price point. It’s not too powerful, but I feel like it has a lack of thought of certain aspects that are vital, especially when taking into account the shape of the toy and what it seems built for. If they made the motor more powerful (or perhaps a corded version)

This toy was sent to my by my friends at Shevibe.com! It retails for about 123 USD at time of posting, and you can find it here!

Indigo Writes Erotica: Straight No Chaser

My second attempt at writing erotica, which (like my first attempt) is written in collaboration with Sheets of San Francisco. I hope you enjoy!


Sarah was excited to finally have the house to herself. After the guests left from the party, she had made plans to really enjoy her evening solo. Though everyone at the party was delightful, she had drunk too much wine, and her two primary partners both agreed to leave for the night instead of coercing her into sex.

She thought about which toys she was planning to use, as she looked at the various options. Of course, the sheets were already over the bed because she had decided a long time ago to use the Pure Wand and really squirt this evening. She briefly considered using another dildo just to extend the session, but decided against it. With just the Pure Wand, she would be able to play for at least half an hour. That was enough time for her, as tipsy as she was.

She pulled out a small vibrator and the Pure Wand and settled onto the towel she had laid on top of the waterproof sheet. The sheet was nice for preventing seepage to the mattress and comforter, but the towel helped absorb some of the sweat which was going to happen. Sexy is squirting a whole bunch. Hot is the feeling of sweat pooling under your back onto a waterproof sheet.

She started with just the vibrator, pushing it up against her clit. Since she wasn’t quite turned on yet, she used more force than normal, exploring the head and the hood before moving down to the legs of her clit. Just between the head and the vaginal entrance, she placed a little less pressure and rubbed the vibrator up and down. She could feel herself beginning to get aroused.

Her hand wandered to the dildo and slipped it in. Thanks to her natural lubrication, it slipped in with ease and she began to gently wiggle it. While she moved, she imagined her partners, both great men and so different.

She imagined Mac’s body so thin and sleek, laying across her bed. His hair messed up from when she pulled his face into her vulva. She was able to be more dominant with Mac, and she often used his hair to guide him. She felt her body tense a little as she remembered the sex they had, and revisited every sensation. His lips on hers, and the feeling her him as she placed her fingers into his vagina. The taste of his dick as she sucked until he came. He doesn’t squirt as often as he used to, but she loves the taste when he does.

She almost came from that thought alone, as the dildo thrust a little bit more, making her moan and her g-spot swell. She took the vibrator away from her clit, and stopped the motion of the dildo. It was too good to tease herself. She needed to put off the orgasm. Despite her efforts, a very small orgasm persisted, and she placed the vibrator against herself again, ramping it up just a little bit. It was a little weak from her attempt to tease herself, and she sighed, knowing that she lost a good orgasm because of her own greediness.

But if she couldn’t tease herself, she could force herself to orgasm more.

She removed the dildo, and let it rest on her thigh. The weight felt good in the nook where her thigh met her groin. The handle was cold, while the part that had been inserted was warm. She took the vibrator and eased it up and down her thighs, quietly letting herself get aroused again. When she felt her vulva begin to swell, she placed the vibrator gently on the outer lips and teased it up and down, lingering on the flesh that covered her clit. It was so sensitive that it didn’t need the pressure it normally wanted. Well, it didn’t need it…yet.

She let her mind wander away from Mac and onto Chris. They were physically opposites. Where Marc was short and sleek, Chris was huge, almost 6’5″ and built like a brick wall. She delighted in his hugs when she was feeling submissive because they made her feel small.

In bed, they were opposites as well. Marc enjoyed being a bottom, and often wanted her to do unspeakable things to him. Chris was the opposite. He had tried receiving some things, but found it unfulfilling and really thrived on making her squirm.

Sarah revisited the memory from earlier in the evening. She and Chris were making some platters and he placed a piece of cheese on her shoulder, right at the sweet spot where it was about to curve upward and gently started at her ear with his tongue, and licked down the curve to where the cheese was. He bit it off of her shoulder, letting his teeth scrape into her skin just a little.

She felt herself getting wetter at this thought. Chris was so dominant, and that’s what she wanted right now. As she pushed the dildo deeper into her g-spot, she felt there was more liquid than before. She knew she would squirt with this orgasm. At that thought, she realized that the fantasies and replays were more for background noise. What was really driving this orgasm was the thought of her own juices running over the sheet. She pictured how hot and red her vulva must be.

The vibrator was deep into her clit, using more pressure than many people would enjoy. She placed even more pressure on it, feeling how it moved her clit back and forth. She briefly imagined Chris’s face over hers, telling her to orgasm now, before the vibrator was taken away.

Then it started, she felt the orgasm swell and explode. She curled her toes and turned her head into the pillow, moaning as loud as she could without disturbing the neighbors. She felt her hand thrust the dildo faster, almost of it’s own volition. As the orgasm got longer, she could feel the drops of ejaculate on her thighs and knees.

Finally, the pleasure eased up, and she could pull the vibrator away from her clit. She removed the dildo and felt her own cum run down her ass onto the bed. After taking a moment to breathe deeply and relax all her muscles, she stood up and examined the puddle. It was huge. She took a quick picture and sent it to both her partners.

“Thoughts of you in physical form. ;)”

Indigo Tries Getting Fisted

9 out of 10

This pairs nicely with a full bottle of wine. Any color. Any type. But definitely all of it. The whole thing.*

*Don’t drink and get laid. It’s irresponsible. Don’t drink and fist.

This post was created in collaboration with Kit Bauer. Their generosity with money and time allowed me to take my time and research what others’ thought. You can find their (amazing) Twitter Feed here, and their escorting page here! 

Let me tell you a story. As a budding blogger, I heard the term fisting, and I briefly wondered what it was before a kind human turned to me and said “Yes, it’s exactly what it sounds like.” Then, I knew what fisting was. And because I am goal-oriented, I immediately knew that one day, I would be fisted. Because I am a size qweeng and because I like to overcome obstacles.

A couple years later, I was spending the night with a bang buddy. She is the first vulva-owner I’ve ever had sex with. After that exploration, which was truly divine, she wanted to finger me. So she started with a dominant routine of hitting and teasing, which led to inserting two fingers. Then three, and four. I just kept wanting more (she is quite small). She said “Are you…sure?” Being lost in the moment, I just moaned “Yes yes!” She went quiet and fumbled around and then went still.

“Is…everything okay down there?”

“Well…your vagina ate my hand.”

And that is the story of how I got fisted for the first time. The second happened that very same night. My second fisting partner would come along (heh) two weeks later at a conference in Toronto. And now I would say I can take a good many fists with ease (consecutively, not at the same time…but like goals, though).

So what is fisting? Well, it’s exactly what it sounds like: you take an entire hand (or fist) into an orifice. It can be done vaginally or anally. I am sure that more creative people have done orally as well. If there are others ways to fist, I cannot fathom them, but I do appreciate other people getting creative with their bodies. It’s often seen as a challenge to overcome, or a really hot way of giving pleasure. It’s denoted in the Hanky Code by the color red.

So I have never fisted anyone (had my fist in a person), I have only been fisted (received a fist into my amazing body). Since fisting had been a goal of mine actively, I spent the first minute with a fist in me just being fucking proud and amazed by my vagina. I felt my partner rotate their arm and their knuckles inside me. Though insertion had to be performed with a traditional thin hand (all fingers pointing away from the wrist and close together), she could make a real fist once inserted.

Let me tell you, there was a beautiful minute where I felt so accomplished. I was so proud. And then she moved it just a little, and I felt myself tense up and orgasm. It was unlike any other orgasm I’d ever had. For me, fisting still brings a unique orgasm that I cannot reach with any other activity. I have just recently found my A-Spot, and I love it. But even that is different than what fisting feels like. I personally feel like fisting hits my A-Spot and my G-spot at the same time, which leads to an intense squirting sometimes. It has all the psuedo-pain and tenseness of a G-Spot stimulation, as well as all the deep and gentle power behind the A-Spot stimulation.

As I’ve said, within a month, I was getting fisted once more at Playground Conference. My friend Taylor J Mace and I had planned this for awhile before it happened, and it was a little different being fisted with purpose and intention. It also helped that we had done some more intense Dom/Sub interaction beforehand. I was thoroughly in subspace when he started. It was even more intense somehow, though there were some people watching. Since he is quite experienced, it also helped because I wasn’t pushed. And though I didn’t get quite to the wrist because I was in a small space, I know that his fist will be inside me entirely soon.

My experiences of fisting are entirely from a submissive perspective, with some kind of Dom/Sub dynamic. So I asked around for others’ take! I was especially interested in what my friend Kit Bauer had to say because they have also been fisted, but without the Dom/Sub dynamics.

“I felt so open, exposed and the amount of nerve endings that are touched is incredible. I also feel very intense waves of emotions during fisting – at times I want to cry while at other times I felt completely overcome by the pleasurable sensations. I felt so intensely vulnerable to put my trust in someone else like that and because of this I can find it difficult to come back to reality afterwards. I just want to be held, not have to speak, or even to be alone and come back to my body.” When I asked about the Dom/Sub dymanics, they admitted to not having any altered headspace. Instead, they said “I felt like I was being given a gift. Perhaps it made me more dominant, but I wasn’t in a dominant headspace.”

There is a distinct possibility that my sexual interactions are almost exclusively submissive now, just because I’m always submissive. However, I will admit that when I’m being fisted and there is a lot of communication, I’m closer to equal with my partners than when I’m not being fisted. I believe that the trust we place in each other makes us closer to equal, which is fascinating as a kinkster, sex educator and as a psychologist.

To further my information, I of course turned to Twitter, where a few other people also mentioned the physical sensations, same as Kit. They used a lot of words like “Intense”, “Connective”, and “Stretched.” However, some folks really got into detail about being a fister, and mentioned that bodies are soft and warm. The tightness as partners came and the sense of accomplishments on both sides of the fist were common themes.

A few people who are dominant and fisters also mentioned a heightened sense of power. They talk about having so much of their submissive under their control. One person even mentioned that between eye contact and muscle contractions, it becomes hotter because there is no verbal communication needed (though it is of course allowed). I believe that this is what draws me to fisting as a sub. It’s so vulnerable that anyone who is domming me with their entire fist has such amazing power over me. Because of that, they have to listen to me because if something does go wrong, it could potentially go really wrong.

Fisting is one of the universal acts. I mean this in the way that it can be intimate or it can be business-like. It can be done with Dom/Sub dynamics. However, it can also be a simple, intimate act that is shared partners. For me, I saw fisting as an ultimate goal and a place to be as submissive as my body would allow. Now, I find it to be a way to form a strong bond between myself and my partners, specifically with my own kink dynamics. I have a goal to fist someone someday, but I’m okay to only receive for now.

As a last note, I want to say: Fisting is a bit hard to accomplish for some folks, and I want to have a brief moment to acknowledge that. Some people just won’t be able to take a full fist. That is completely okay. Bodies are all different and your body is amazing, even if it doesn’t check every box that exists. There are many ways to connect with a partner or to submit. This is just one. Love your body where it is.

This post was created in collaboration with Kit Bauer. Their generosity with money and time allowed me to take my time and research what others’ thought. You can find their (amazing) Twitter Feed here, and their escorting page here! 

 

Indigo Gives Up Mediocrity

20 out of 10

Pairs really will with some delicious Earl Grey tea. It’s more refined, it’s energizing, and it’s definitely a treat.

During my last therapy appointment, I spent an extraordinary amount of time lamenting about my exes and the amount of labor I had put into our relationships. I talked about how much I gave and how much they took. I went over all the ways I exhausted myself for my partners. Confession Corner: This had a lot to do with my most recent ex.

This ex and I were together monogamously for about a year before moving in together. We found a house and made our space and everything was good for a few months. During this time, I tried very hard to establish a routine of airing problems we had. I wanted to get coffee every other week or so and talk about boundaries, cleaning, or problems. It was going to be a safe space. This way, I wouldn’t just be making lists of what I needed help with or needed changing, and he would feel safe to bring up his issues too. Well, this idea never got off the ground, and it took me a long time to figure out why. It was such a good idea, why wasn’t he excited about it?

Well, after living together for 9 months as his emotional support, financial support and all-around mother figure, I got tired of it. He made the bed once in the entire time we lived together. And the sheet was on inside out. He didn’t really plan meals. The meals he did plan went as far as meat with flavor and instant mashed potatoes. I did all the shared laundry like towels and sheets (though I made him wash his own clothes). I pushed him to find a better job, make goals, and generally grow as a person. Perhaps that was where I went wrong. He did not want to grow, and I should have accepted this and moved on. But I loved him, so fuck me, right?

Well, after 9 months of that travesty, I finally got fed up with it. Even though he offered emotional stability, and a shoulder to cry on, I still felt like I was a grown adult with a dependent. So I kicked his ass out of my house and we tried to make it work while he lived at his parents (because in that time, he had not saved money despite my paying both of our rents for several months BUT I DIGRESS). After his losing another job (number 6 in as many months), I got fed up, and broke it off completely. It was heart-breaking for me. I was hurt, and I was disappointed.

After two months of pain and hurt, we got back together. This probably would not have happened except that we had to be in touch because he owed me over $2000 and we were communicating about that regularly. But here we were again. Trying to make it work. We had been monogamous for so long, and I felt like I was just trapped in this stupidity. I had no sexual freedom to explore and all the talks we had about threesomes or others were fruitless. He was just never ready, and I got the feeling that he never would be. So I wanted to try polyamory. In a polyam dynamic, maybe I could feel less attached to him, and give myself some fucking freedom. He agreed to try it with me. But he also continued his trend of not wanting to communicate with me and we never established boundaries or determined what our brand of polyamory was. So when he suddenly had a new “partner” (not a date, but a partner), I got uncomfortable and scared. I tried really hard to communicate that I felt this way. I tried to explain that I was worried he couldn’t take care of himself, or me, and it felt awful that he pulled in someone else under those circumstances.

So he left me.

Yeah, let me write that again. He left me. For her. After months and dollars. After emotional nights and so much labor. After giving so much of myself to make this relationship work, he walked out. Because it was hard and suddenly I was asking too much.

Now, it’s been about 4 and a half months since then. I’m still hurting because this was my first long-term relationship. I’m hurting because it was really unfair. I’m still hurting because I didn’t set boundaries and maintain them. I’m still hurting because I was betrayed by myself and my partner. I have lost my faith in other humans, and now I need to rebuild it somehow.

What about the money, you ask? Well I’ll tell you. A few weeks ago, he sent the last payment (fucking FINALLY), and that’s why I need to write this. My last tenuous, stressful connection to this partner is gone. I get the chance to say “Payments complete. Bye.” This one moment in text form will be the last thing that he and I share.

The cleansing feeling of letting go after trying to hold on for so long and investing so much of myself is…complicated. On one hand, this was stable in its own morbid way. It was one person who was consistent (not something I have a lot). It was almost a comfortable groove, even if it became toxic in the end. It also had hope for so long. “Maybe it will get better. Maybe if we talk enough. Maybe if I go to therapy more. Maybe if I can make more money.” Well, maybe I just need to move the fuck on and stop dating people who need me to take care of them.

So I hopped back onto my OKCupid account. I started swiping on Tinder with more interest. And I met someone too! He was a great switch, good in bed, funny, a chef, emotionally dependent, told me loved me after one date, wanted me to meet his partner, consistently needed reassurance, and when I told him I needed space, he felt guilty and placed a lot of emotional baggage onto me. Now, I love people who ask for what they want. I love people who are open about needing reassurance and who cry when they need to. This guy did all of that. AND he had all these silent expectations that I would sweep up his emotions after he was done. He assumed I wanted to meet his partner and make agreements. He assumed I wanted to have this long term relationship. And I just…didn’t. With time, I probably would have, but the pressure completely drove me away.

So I went from one mediocre human needing a mother to another human needing a mother. Neither of them are inherently bad. But all these little things that make them mediocre add up and suddenly, I’m the parental unit they need to feel secure. I just thank the gods every day that somehow I was blessed with the strength of will to leave relationships I do not like, and that’s what happened (to some extent) in both cases. Things were bad, so I changed them.

I once heard a joke: Sex is like pizza. Even if it’s bad, it’s still pizza. I thought this was funny when I heard it because I imagined that sex would always be pretty good. After all, I’m good at sex. I applied this same way of thinking to relationships too. Even if a relationship is bad, hey, it’s still a relationship. As a result, I put up with mediocre people in my life. I put up with mediocre sex and effort.

Recently, I have started sleeping with more people semi-regularly. I have one bang buddy that is kind and intriguing. She’s made it clear from the beginning that her intentions are just to have good friendships with sex. I have another who has proven to be supportive and attentive to all my requests. I’ve moved on from things that aren’t fulfilling. I am single now, but I want to be in a relationship again. I like having someone consistent. But until a better human comes along, I’m going to wait.