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I use the male, because it's how the rubes see me. It would be more accurate to say I'm genderqueer, it'd be more accurate to say I'm a relaxed soft-butch non-op non-horm transwoman. Don't expect frills, lace, or panties, I've always been more a tank-top and combat boots sort of woman.
I'm happily involved in an open relationship.
I'm a part of several geeky subcultures, especially board gamers, RPG gamer, sci-fi, fantasy, math, and science. I enjoy the local renfairs, and fairy festivals. I am involved with several local pagan communities as a spouse. I enjoy many forms of dancing. And I'm a talented but never formally trained cook. I have a vanilla day job, and occasional family life. So a degree of discretion exists in my life. I don't do drugs except caffeine, though I may seek a new prescription for ADHD meds if I attempt grad-school. I rarely drink, because I'm driving. I do enjoy a good drink. I don't smoke anything, and dislike smoking, because of traumatic life experience.
I'm working at more honestly expressing my more dominant side. I'm highly intelligent and can naturally lead where expert decision making is needed. People listen to my direction because I'm right, and I'm right because I work very hard at not making mistakes, and correcting them when I do. Several people have noted if there were an animal to fit my personality it'd be a dragon, which is basically an overgrown cat, crossed with a lizard, crossed with a magpie, crossed with a lion which is yet another cat. I like rope, I think I enjoy tying people up almost as much as I like being tied up. I'm clever and experimental.
In erotica I enjoy all sort of weird and delightful ideas. In the bedroom, there's few things I won't try if I'm convinced they can be done safely. I tend to place highest value on dom/sub and bondage, with pain and sensation being fun toys. I'm not into humiliation.
The lack of pictures is intentional. Scammers put up fake pictures. If I were fake I'd be a heck of a lot better looking than this makes me out to be. A tall long haired computer dork with more Hawaiian shirts than I ever thought I'd own.
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MMmm... Eggnog Flan, I dance, I tie people up, and I can cook. I totally rock, yay me.
Rock of Ages was awesome, wore a What Would Joan Jett do Tee, bright pink totally fabulous dressed masculine. Hilarius reactions from the audience. But really band tee-shirt is perfect garb for Rock of Ages.
Rocky Horror though, same shirt as a girl, lovely diamond net body suit woven from two 50' ropes went from fingers down to my ankles inside my Doc Martins. Actually got less reaction there, though tight net body suits and carabiners have many many reconfigurable uses. Which we explored at super exclusive after party |
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Oh Rocky you firm muscular abomination against science you. Rocky Horror Picture Show in a purple rope harness and black rope box-tie. Such an attention whore, but oh their frightened aroused faces. Baby don't dream it, be it.
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Little story, you decide if it's true:
As I sit there my stomach growling I consciously post-pone my evening meal that on the hope she might offer to buy dinner again. The money isn't important, and while the food is better than I would eat on my own it's out of my hunger for her that I wait.
Friends arrive.
They were expected, we gathered these nights for merriment and gaming. We begin our games, and I am pleased to say I do quite well. Winning two of three. It's growing late and I relent my fasting, perhaps she is not coming tonight. I content myself to a greasy burger and fries as our new game begins. Fed now we game on.
She arrives. Beautiful of course, but it's more the power she wields that enamors me to her. She notices me with her frightening eyes, and I feel weighed in the balance. Am I lacking? She chooses another table, another game. One she knows I don't have the cards to join in or does she. I see not spite in her action. She enjoys her game and I mine as I watch her sheepishly, trying to understand why it's so important to please her.
Her ex arrive. I would not begrudge him his presence, but he brings his new girl friend. They do not join in any games, but make lewd displays on the tables. I would this was exaggeration, he a young twenty perhaps parades this grotesque display for her perhaps, for the lonely maybe. Who can know the mind of one so shameless. I taste bile at his actions.
She must be hurt but she shows nothing of it. I bristle and glare. I am, with these friends known for my sexuality. I am playful and perverted, laughing at taboo. They miss though how I do care for people, how I wield my sexual overtones as a shield.
He sits talking to one of my more perverse friends. If he was attracted to more than just men, perhaps we would have hooked up. Now he is a friend untouchable for his disinterest, yet comfortable in my arms. There are limits though, no romantic love, no sex. I try to make a mockery with him off the ridiculousness of this public display. He misses my anger, and thinks I merely want a hug. I cannot turn this sympathetic hug into the well timed jab I had hoped to make.
So pathetic, so shamefully ineffectual. I am frustrated by my failing and embarrassed to have made things worse. I look to her in my defeat for guidance, and found her pain even more I felt my failings. She doesn't acknowledge me. We play our games. I try to invite her to our game but with subdued anger more terrifying than rage in her voice she declines. The sharpest of bites from a whip would have been more merciful. It is not her anger towards me, but my own that haunts me. How could I fail her. She is so poised when she might rage, while I come so easily unhinged. She excuses herself and turns in for an early night.
The others are left to wonder at my visible unexpressed rage. The night draws closed and I take my own premature leave desperate that she might understand my foolishness, and help me with her firm stable heart. I find myself thinking of her like some great warrior goddess, and I fear I could never be adequate of her. When did her approval become so crushingly important. How do you tell someone they're that special that you're shocked but find yourself ready to submit even before they've asked.
I am left thinking of her, hoping she understands and writing of her power. Maybe I can see her next time, without the jerk there with his spineless girlfriend who lets herself be turned into a weapon like that. I long to see her again. Long for her approval, her guidance.
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Still around, still looking. Not posting a picture for a couple reasons. Ever notice there's all these Milan fashion models and Japanese glamor idols in Maryland? Seriously could you be more fake? Me no image. I say I'm a tall scrawny white boy. Maybe I'm lying. Maybe I'm a short fat balding black man. Why would I lie about that though? Perhaps I'm secretly a woman masquerading as a man. Actually that would be kind of hot. Nothing fake in me.
Dominants on here are bleeping crazy. Seriously? Do you get people volunteering to pay you to wash your windows for you and have you not even give them the times of day? Because I can totally insult them and have them do some chores, I'll even charge them twice as much. *Sigh* I guess I'm just a kinkster, but what's wrong with that? Ideally I'd like a kinky-relationship which is a relationship and kinky. Stop with the pissing competitions. We don't need super domme the uber-bitch so dominant she doesn't even instant message her slaves and expects them to just Pay-Pal her their tributes. And her pal super sub who's so worthless he poops on himself and whips himself as punishment while sending super domme her payment for services rendered.
*wretch* Sorry I'd rather drive to the park with a beautiful gal wrapped up tight in soft nylon ropes next to me thinly covered by a blanket as I leave her precariously exposed in the locked car waiting for me to return with the DVD and takeout. Call me old fashioned, but the classic date is fun.
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| Age: 22 |
| Davao city,
Philippines |
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