The new column...

And an amusing photo comparison that a reader sent me. I suppose I can kinda see the Catherine Deneuve thing in this shot, especially since we both have the widow's peak. But her chin and jaw have an elegant sweep that I lack, and plus I don't have zat sexy French accent...

Have a good weekend...

Warning: Cranky Mistress

Between various snafus with parking meters, dry cleaners and the gas company, I had a rather annoying day yesterday. My two very sweet clients were the high points, I assure you. Oh, and getting my hair done, although I had to be there at nine o’clock in the bloody morning, because my boy was so booked it was the only time I could get with him.

(And spare me any condescending remarks about how you get up at six am every day. I don’t, okay. I do not have kids. I’m a sex worker and a writer. One of the reasons I passed on the joys of parenting and steady paychecks was so I could go to bed at 3am and get up at 11am. Thus, I dislike having to alter my circadian rhythm to match the morning people.)

But after I left the salon, things went swiftly downhill, in ways too banal to detail. Suffice it to say that by late afternoon, I was in no mood to suffer fools gladly.

Enter fool, stage left.

Ring ring!

Me: Hello?

Caller: Mistress?

Me: Yes?

Caller: I need to feel…special. I don’t feel special.

I pause and look around me. It seems to be the same day and same time it was before I answered the phone. I am thus reassured that I have not, in fact, fallen into some kind of time warp wherein I’ve conducted an entire relationship – an unsatisfying relationship, apparently – with the whiney-voiced person on the other end of the phone.

Which leads to me to ask why the hell this yabbo is calling me up to initiate Breakup Conversation #46 with me? And he’s starting in the middle, too. You have to lead up to this line with something like, “I need to talk to you about our relationship…” But these two statements make absolutely no sense to me.

That’s not true, though. I know why he’s saying them. I know exactly what kind of conversation he’s trying to lead me into, and I’m not interested in having it. So I say nothing, hoping he’ll revert to a more appropriate conversational style, and I can get him off the phone.

He doesn’t. Okay, we’re gonna have to play this one through.

Me: Who is this?

Caller: Bob, Mistress.

Me: Bob, have we ever met?

Caller: No, Mistress.

I pause lengthily again. But Bob’s a stubborn fellow and he doesn’t crack.

Me: How’d you get this number, Bob?

He pauses, trying to think of a way of answering that will keep us out of the real world and in Bob’s Non-Sequiter World. Bob has figured out that the longer he can keep a professional girl confused and off-balance conversationally, the longer she’ll stay on the phone with him, trying to sort him out, because he might be money. This is a very common game. Unfortunately for Bob, I don’t care if he’s Bill Gates. I don’t deal with game-players.

Caller: I want to feel…special. My other Mistress…She didn’t make me feel special.

I’m supposed to say, “What would make you feel special?”

I don’t.

Me: How did you get this number, Bob?

Caller: Um… a website.

Me: Okay, so you’re calling about my professional dominance services….

I give him the standard rate/hours/appointments spiel, including the “I’m not really taking very many new clients these days” part. (That happens to be quite true. However, if I think I’d like you, then exceptions will be made.)

Me: If you like, you can leave me your number and I’ll call you if my schedule opens up.

I’m pulling this completely out of thin air, as I don’t ever do that. But it seems like a non-confrontational way of saying don’t call me, I’ll call you.

Caller: Can we… talk?

Me: If you want, Bob, you can leave me your number and I’ll call you if I get room in my schedule. Or if hell freezes over.

Caller: Could I be your slave? Your special slave?

Me: Goodbye.

I hang up, and program him into my phone: NOANSWER17

He calls back about three times in the next twenty minutes. I don’t answer. He didn’t leave a number for me then, either. Which is okay, because I've already got it.

More picture samples, because I'm busy finishing a column, getting my hair done, and being evil to some sweet boys.

Very mistressy!

Someone called this "the Catherine Deneuve shot." It's funny, he's the third person lately to tell me I remind them of her, and I don't see it at all. If you asked me what celebrity I think I resemble, I'd probably say "Marie Osmond", because when I was an teenager, with much rounder cheeks, I used to hear that all the time. That, or Geena Davis, although I'm about a foot shorter than she is.
I just think the angle of my head, and the tousled hair, is reminding people of this shot of Catherine.

And one more resting one, since ya'll liked the other one.

Bye!

Addendum: Client Note
Because I've been out of town and otherwise so unavailable lately, I've decided to take appointments this Saturday and Sunday. This is quite rare for me, so if you've been yearning for a weekend session, carpe diem.

*****

Hi, I'm kind'of in the same industry, and have 1 cross over client; but appointments w/ him are hard for me so wanted maybe some tips from you (since I read your column and respect you) on how to handle him.
I NEVER do this. He likes to tie me up; put a ball gag in my mouth; parade me around; make me do things, etc. I hate it. + he's not that great at it.
The 1st time the top of my hand was numb for 3 months. I think he sees the pictures in the magazines and copies them, or reads the how to articles.
How is it supposed to work? Does a submissive have any rights? I'm a good submissive I guess b/c I take it and endure it. But I hurt and try not to panic.
Any advice you can give me is good. Thanks.

These emails scare me. Dear comrade of mine, stop. Just stop. Do not see this guy anymore. If you hate what he wants you to do, then that’s all there is to say. Don’t see him again.

I could go on and on about how HELL YES submissives have rights, but that’s not the point. You’re not having a healthy dominant/submissive relationship with him, because you don’t like what he’s doing to you, you’re just doing it for the money.

That hand thing? That’s nerve damage. Yes, he’s doing the bondage wrong, although in a good BDSM scene, you’re supposed to tell him that your hands hurt/have gone numb. And he’s supposed to fix that. Frankly, you’re lucky it wasn’t worse. Mobility and sensation don't always come back with nerve damage. Next time it could be your fingers that go numb or lose grip strength.

But seriously, do not see this guy again. I know what you’re talking about, I’ve been there. I have dealt with people I really didn’t like just because they were paying me, and it was bad for my mental health. No more. I know it’s hard to turn down money, but it’s better in the long run. I really believe that if you stop seeing guys you don’t like, you’ll have so much more positive energy to put into your work that you’ll attract really sweet, nice guys who’ll treat you like a princess. That's absolutely what's happened with me.

No one can take care of your physical and emotional safety but you. I hope you can hear what I'm telling you.

As I admitted yesterday, this week has been slow as far as any substantial posts. I feel mildly guilty, but what can I say? No sooner had I returned from Portland than I had to deal with some annoying and time-consuming matters, so it's been rather hectic. But things have calmed down the last few days, and I'm just enjoying being home and settled again, after several weeks of travel, etc.

Sweet events of Thursday included Armani bringing me an Easter basket containing chocolate, champagne, and that gorgeous David Yurman chain I wanted. He spoils me.

Monk and I opted for a very mellow evening in, so he came over with a Stellar's pizza and a complete season of Doctor Who on DVD. I love Stellar's and yes, I'm a big ole nerd, I love Doctor Who. And my Doctor Who geek score is pretty high - I actually went to a Doctor Who convention when I was a kid. I swear.

It was the season with Christopher Eccleston as the ninth Doctor, and he's pretty good, although Tom Baker will always be the real Doctor for me. Monk and I kicked around what other actors might play the Doctor in the future, and we decided that John Cusack and James Spader would do it well. I also voted for Jason Statham, but Monk thought he'd be a bit too violent.

I'm sure I'll be in more of a writing mood next week.

I'm not writing a whole lot this week, am I? Oh well, I'm sure something will inspire me soon.

Meanwhile, here's the new column, straight from the voicemail archives.

Photos: Me looking all mistressy and stuff.

Me resting while Craig snaps pictures of me.

Amusing event of the day: buying and using of those nifty little pineapple-corer gadgets. They actually work reasonably well. Which is good, because my pineapple addiction is getting just a little out of control, and it's way cheaper to buy them whole rather than pre-cut.

At least that was the amusing non-kinky event. There was something involving Blue Eyes, the Magic Wand, and this purple attachment for it that Jae and I refer to as "Gonzo" because it reminds us of the Sesame Street character... But as Monk would say: that's a story for another day.

Professional query: (no, my OTHER profession) If you're a writer and you've used Power Writer or Power Structure software, would you drop me a note? I'm thinking of buying one of them.

Edited to add: I have watched the Alanis Morissette spoof of "My Humps" about twenty-seven times, and still it cracks me up. Brilliant parody. I think I'll watch it again now.

Short Cuts

Another photo sample. And one more.

Other silliness: Complete and exact text of an email I got today...

say my name is mark and i'm looking for a job escoting sexy women on date's. call me at my number XXX- XXX- XXX from 9am to 6pm okay. thank you bye for now

Say Mark? I hate to tell you, pal, but this is not “bye for now”. It’s bye - forever. Don’t even get me started on the general absurdity of this email. I’ve covered that elsewhere. Repeatedly.

No more today, though. I have to get all my tax stuff together and deliver it to the very patient man who does my taxes for me. I hate this stuff, it makes my head hurt just looking at it. (And that’s before I even write the check to the government.)

And then maybe I’ll do a scene where I pretend someone is an IRS Agent and make them recite tax law while I beat them. That would make me happier.

Got the CD from Craig Morey yesterday! I haven't had time to really go through and pick my favorites, but here's a nice one. And here's one more sample.

But now I have boys to torment and a column to finish, so you'll have to wait until tomorrow for more peeks.

Perverted Definitions

Flogging master: someone who excels at telling people how good he is with this many-tailed whip he’s got.

Suspension scene: one where the bottom has to stop and wait for the top to get ready to hang them up in the air.

Bullwhip: a long heavy whip which some people claim to like, and some people claim to know how to use properly, even thought they really don’t.

Mummification: a bondage technique where you wrap someone up like a mummy and don’t talk much.

Sounds: Noises men makes when you insert a long metal rod into their urethra.

Spreader Bar: A long bar you attach ankle cuffs to, or someplace you first take your date hoping to get them drunk so they'll let you put ankle cuffs on them.

St. Andrew's Cross: An X-shaped piece of bondage furniture. Also, the saint’s probable state of mind about the fact that something so kinky is being called by his name.

New Toys

I've gotten an influx of new toys lately. Want to see? First, I went shopping at Mr. S in San Francosco and I now have a vast collection of new, extremely nasty clamps. This picture is not particularly threatening. However, this one is a pair of those clamps in action on Jae's pink bits, and it may frighten people. Rest assured I've done worse to them.

Electricity fans, rejoice. Bruce of KinkyMedical.net was at vending at Kinkfest and from him I bought some new leads and these tiny, very tight little clamps. Look at those needle-y little beaks!

Also at Kinkfest was Sam St. Michael of Hoydengear. That's where my little Cobra Stinger came from, and Sam gave me a couple of new impact toys to try out. (Non-squicky photo.) Short answer: Jae says they're mean. I believe her. The longer one is shot-weighted, so it's heavy. The the shorter, two-tailed one is rubber, and rubber toys are always nasty. I believe Sam calls them "Trouble" and "The Rubber Demon", and I can see why. But it's getting hard to find toys I don't already have. So I'm just all about finding innovations in impact.

I’m on the move today, with my treasured iPod tucked in my pocket. I always think my downloads looks like they belong to someone with a multiple personality. On the one hand, there’s stuff like Get Me Off, by Basement Jaxx, which is mindless nasty techno-dance, and Irresistable Bitch, by Prince, an oldie-goldie by His Purpleness, and SexyBack by, yes, okay, Justin Timberlake.

Then there’s Down On The Street (Take 15) by The Stooges, Living Dead Girl, by Rob Zombie, and Ace Of Spades, by Motorhead.

Schizophrenic.

But no matter. It will entertain me as I catch up with my Seattle life, and then I will in turn entertain you, so stay tuned.

Home

So, got back home from Kinkfest yesterday afternoon. I have had a great time zooming around lately, but I am quite, quite happy to be done traveling for a bit. I like being home, going about my accustomed little routine.

But Kinkfest was delightful. I drove down Thursday, and Friday morning went to the three places I always go in Portland: Powell’s, Countermedia, and Oregon Leather. Books and leather, mmmmm....

Then I went off to help Monk sell rope until it was time to go to the dungeon party. We hadn’t really thought we’d be in the space to play, but the mood overtook us, and while we didn’t do a formal scene exactly, we did get a little aggressive with each other. It was great fun. We joke about teaching a workshop sometime entitled, “Switching On A Dime: Cooperative Intense Sensation Scenes.” Which means: neither one of us is really being submissive to the other, we’ve just figured out how to push each other’s endorphin buttons.

Saturday morning Monk got up at the crack of dawn to go vend, and I slept until eleven and then did the walk of shame (not really) up five floors to my room. Host hotels are so convenient that way. Spent the rest of the day hanging out in the vendor area and chatting, doing a little shopping (pictures of what I bought to come, probably tomorrow) and sticking my head, briefly, in a few workshops.

I’m a real tough sell for workshops. I’ve been going to leather conventions since 1989, so there are very few subjects that I haven’t already seen presented – several times, probably. That doesn’t mean I won’t go see them again, if I think the presenter has a new angle on it – or if it’s a presenter I think is really good. There are certain people on the BDSM conference circuit who are such entertaining speakers that they could teach Flogging 101 and I’d go. They’re just that much fun to watch. Other people, though…Not so much. You can be a really wonderful person, and know your subject, but doing interesting presentations is a skill in itself. So while I am sure there were some good classes, I was there to play and socialize.

Saturday night I had a date with Jae, who has been goading and taunting me for weeks now because she's been wanting a thrashing. How could I refuse such an opportunity? Especially when a lovely, generous, and sincerely twisted pal of mine loaned me her stun gun. (*Yes, I said stun gun. Hey, it’s a low-voltage one, only 150,000v. And only below the waist. It was fine. I loved it so much that now I will have to buy my own.)

I rolled Jae around on the floor, and zapped her girlie bits with the stun gun and the Cobra Stinger, stuck needles in her, and hit her with various nasty implements. I was also feeling a little carnivorous, so I bit her back up so much that a pal later remarked that she looked “as if she’d been to a piranha swinger party.” (Photo, mildly NWF.)

For the end of the scene, I pulled out something I was just sure she’d hate: a nose-clamp, from Axmar. When she saw it, she thought it went on her clit, so she was quite surprised when I slipped it onto her septum.

And I was quite surprised when it sent her even deeper into a submissive space. I had thought surely she’d kick and scream. She even said, “Can you make it tighter, Ma’am?” I was happy to do so, and I loved tugging her face (carefully) to one side and then the other with a line I’d slipped through it.

After that scene wound up, I hung out, chatted and walked around the dungeon a bit, and then we went back to our room and collapsed into bed.

Sunday was mellow, lots of social time, and a very nice private wind-down party given by a lovely Portland lady I’ve known for years. So thank you to her for hosting us.

Now I’m going to get caught up with all the boys I’ve missed seeing the last few weeks. I have new toys and some new ideas, and soon I’ll have new photos as well. I love my life.

* Caution: I’m a highly experienced BDSM player, and so is Jae. I’ve been playing with her for over nine years, and I know her overall medical status and her pain tolerance very well. I know how to play with electricity without causing serious harm. You should NOT just start randomly zapping people with any kind of electrical instrument without being thoroughly educated in how that’s done and the potential risks, because electricity is something that, done wrong, can seriously injure or kill someone. So be fucking careful.

Want to hear me talk about polyamory? Go listen to me chat with the cool folks at Blowfish about loving more than one person, poly structures, the nature of jealousy, and whether young science fiction people are rejecting poly because the older science fiction people embraced it. This is a link to the main podcast page. Episode number 57 is the one you want. I'm writing this late on Thursday night, and I'm too brain-dead at the moment to figure out how to link to the precise episode. But I'm sure some clever person will tell me....

Edit: direct link!

Here and Gone
I got home yesterday from San Francisco, unpacked my bags, did a bunch of laundry, and then re-packed them, because today, I'm off to Portland for Kinkfest.

I have taught classes and done highly-publicized scenes at Kinkfest before, but I'm just as pleased not to be teaching or performing or anything like that this year. BDSM conferences are always a social whirlwind even without those added complexities. I'm hoping to just see friends, go to a couple interesting workshops, and do some fun scenes.

So, while I zoom off to the Rose City, enjoy... the new column.

And, a candid snapshot of Craig Morey and me, as Craig explains the deep artistic significance of asymetrical stockings in Japanese porn. NWF.
(I'm kidding. I have no idea what Craig was telling me at this moment, but I'm sure it was something completely appropriate and professional.)

Bye!

Check this out – Polaroids! Taken the old-fashioned way, with a Hasselblad! I haven’t had a photographer take Polaroids of me in years, I thought that had gone the way of the dodo bird. I was charmed.

The shoot went very well. We arrived at 11 am, and we left at a quarter to seven, which tells you something. That’s a long bloody shoot, even with getting my hair and makeup done on the front end and taking some breaks along the way. But we just kept going and going… Partly because Craig did the same dang thing photographers always do: we’d shoot a set, and he’d say “Ok, relax for a second,” and I’d let out a big sigh and slump into some limp posture – because modeling is harder work than you think – and he’d say, “Oh, wait, wait, that’s a great pose, hold that! Now, put your arm up a little higher and turn your face more towards me, great, now arch your back a little, good….” And there would go my break.

Craig also indulged in the same artistic torture that Tommy Edwards and other great photographers enjoy – they twist you into a really strenuous pose, and then say, “Oh, wait, I need another memory card/roll of film, so just hold that…” and then start fiddling with the camera.

But I’m not really complaining, mind you. It’s very nice that he thought I was photogenic even when I was sprawled around, trying to get my various muscles to stop quivering from strain. And he’s a cool guy, I’m extremely pleased to have gotten to meet him and work with him. I’ll be getting a CD of the digital images from him soon, so I’ll have some of those to show you before long. I think I’ll get some great pictures, and he got some images he seemed to like as well.

We did do some art-nudes at the end – but I will not be posting those on the site, sorry. They’re intended for the pleasure of Max and of Monk. However, Craig took some photos of my ass that he seemed to think were noteworthy, so watch his site, and sometime you might see photos of my behind there. Of course, since my face isn't in the photo, you may have to be someone who’s made a close study of my posterior to recognize me. But that might be a bigger club that I think…

Today, I am completely focused on modeling for Craig Morey. Nothing else matters. That's what I'm doing.
And when I'm done, I'm going to eat a huge meal and go to sleep.

Here I am in foggy but fabulous San Francisco! Today, I’ll do a little fetish shopping, get in one last workout before the Craig Morey shoot, and go do a podcast with the super-cool people over at Blowfish.com. I did a podcast with them when I was in town for Folsom Street Fair last year, and they invited me back for another visit. I’m looking forward to that, and I’ll link to it as soon as it’s live.

While we’re on the subject of podcasts: Monk bought me a state of the art microphone for my own podcasts, so I will be setting all that up when I get back from Kinkfest. Should be fun!

Here's the link to the column that's up now. But it's a re-run, as I was far too ill last week to write.

In keeping with yesterday's theme: How to get hurt. Not in the good way, either.

On a fashion note: Where in San Francisco should a girl go to buy thigh-high boots? Also, has anyone been in West Coast Leather – formerly North Beach Leather – lately? How’s their stuff looking? I like Madame S, but more selection is always good.

I got a long letter recently – but unlike some, this writer wants me to publish his issue. However, what I have to say about it may not be exactly what he expects.

(Note: I did edit it down a bit for length.)

Dear Matisse,

My on-again/off-again partner has at times been a professional Dominatrix, although within our own personal relationship she is…submissive to me. I say "at times" with regard to BDSM work because her primary relationship is with drugs.

We have seen you around once or twice and you are her role model, on both a professional and personal basis. We read the Control Tower regularly and she's clipped many of your articles to make a scrap book…. I'm writing you because I believe that you are one of the few people who might get through to her and impact her. She has made half-hearted attempts to quit doing drugs, mainly by replacing meth use with increased pot use or alcohol binges. I'm beside myself with anguish, because the person I love most is letting her life go down the drain and I don't know what to do.

…Edited for length – the person in question is engaging in behavior the writer doesn’t like…

…I've told her I'm not about to help her go down the wrong path…snip… She's been in a circle of drugs and sex industry work for about 10 years, and I have a very strong belief that if you are a drug addict, this is certainly the wrong business to be in. I was surprised to find that after doing this for 10 years she had no money. ...snip... She still has no money, and despite my efforts to teach her how to fish, so to speak, she prefers to be given fish. Needless to say she gets resentful when there are no fish left or a person gets tired of giving handouts!

I would very much appreciate it if you could write a column with your thoughts on drugs and Dom/sub relationships... How they affect personal relationships and if you believe a woman should even be IN the sex industry if she's a drug user....snip... It just seems like a waste of life and so empty to me.

Rather than come back to me and a healthy, stable environment, she continues to think that if she just gets a hotel room at an Extended Stay for a week or so she will be able to take enough clients to get back on her feet. After seeing this pattern over the past several years and then getting calls for me to help put her up at a hotel again, I've said no. …Edit: he’s given her money and tried to help her in the past … I feel great guilt but realize I'm enabling and maybe even dragging out her time to hit rock bottom by chipping in. It has affected me immensely on an emotional level, but I feel that until she gets clean nothing will ever work, between us or in her own life.

As I mentioned before, she looks up to you and draws much of her insight from your columns. It's a long shot, but perhaps some pointed comments from you might strike a chord within her and wake her up. Nothing I say or do at this point makes a difference, and I'm sad to see that after 3 years I have had so little impact on her life.

Please write something about this. Meth is an evil drug that is such a huge problem in our society today....snip... it's like watching a movie and I can't do a thing about her self destruction.

***

Well, I had some reactions right away to this email. But rather than just respond from that place, I decided to ask my friend Miss K for her take. Not only is she just a smart person, she’s also a former sex worker. And – she’s a former drug addict. She’s been clean for some years now and I’m proud of her for that. I can’t think of anyone more qualified to comment on this email. Here’s what she said:

Here's my impression: the key phrase is: "It just seems like a waste of life and so empty to me." Yeah, to you. The problem is, it's not your life. Being a Republican, punching a clock and breeding seems like an empty, wasted life to me, but that doesn't give me any right, moral or otherwise, to stop someone from doing it. Now, if you throw in the disease of addiction, I also don't have the ability to stop them, and neither do you!

Basically: you're writing the letter? You're the one with a problem. I strongly suggest immediate participation in Al-Anon. Their hotline number is (206)625-0000, and their meeting directory and links are online at www.seattle-al-anon.org. You've made a strong case for this woman to get into a 12-step program like Narcotics Anonymous or Alcoholics Anonymous, but the thing that makes those programs work is that they're not for people who need them, they're for people who want them...Until she reaches out for help (and not to you!) to get clean, consider her on her own path. You don't have to go with her! In fact, she may hit her bottom faster if you don't.

Oh, and as for being in the sex industry while using drugs? Yeah, bad idea, but again, that’s just an opinion. Not that I approve of it, but we can't really know what goes on behind those doors.

I agree with Miss K. The only problem you can fix is your own. If your girlfriend has a drug problem, it's her problem. You said it yourself: you can’t do a thing about her self-destruction. So stop trying.

I confess to you, when I first read your email, it really pissed me off. I thought, “God, what a controlling person, he picked a woman he knew had a drug problem when he started dating her, and now he’s all about trying to change her and make her act like he wants her to. And he wants to involve me in this game he's playing with her. No way, Jose."

And then I realized why this letter irritated me so. Because I used to do the same damn thing. Oh yeah, I did. For most of my twenties, I surrounded myself with broken people that I was trying to control… Oh, whoops, I mean help. Yeah, help, that’s it. Some of them were sex workers who acted just like your girlfriend is acting. Some of them were men. But it’s the same dance.

I had to bang my head against the wall until it was bloody before I finally learned: no matter how good and pure I think my intentions are, no matter how many books I read, or how many therapy appointments I drag people to, I cannot fix or change or save anyone else. It’s not within my power. And it's wrong for me to even try, because sometimes help is just the nice word for control.

I don't think it's within anyone's power to fix someone else. You can love them while they work to fix themselves. Or you can love them while they’re engaging in behaviors you don’t like, and make whatever boundaries you need to shield yourself from the negative fallout. But you have to let go of any idea you have about influencing them to behave differently. It won’t happen, and you’ll just make yourself miserable trying.

Plus, it keeps you from focusing on your own life and your own issues. That’s probably why people do it – it’s so much more comfortable to keep the spotlight on other people’s problems than your own.

If your girlfriend asked me for my advice, I’d give it to her. She hasn’t. But for you, I have some advice: end the relationship, sever all the ties, and walk away. Don’t get involved with another broken person, either. That’s always a real temptation, because there are lots of them around, and oh, they can be so alluring. They have so much potential, if they’d just – just – just… change.

Focus your energy on improving your own life. Isn’t there something you want to accomplish that’s just about you? Climb a mountain, go to Tibet, write a book, lose twenty pounds, get a promotion at work, buy a house – something? Do that. And let your ex-girlfriend find her own way to wherever she’s going.