Today is Monk’s birthday. I got him a birthday gift, and I’m pleased to be able to give it to him. But since the first night he turned up at my door, with flowers, champagne, and a wicked gleam in his eye, Monk has been a much bigger gift to me than I can ever express. Let me count just a few of the ways in which Monk is an amazing partner…

Monk will do pretty much anything to make me laugh.

Monk asks me for my opinions and my advice - and then listens to it.

If I’m having a disagreement with someone, Monk takes it as given that I must be right. Until I tell him I was wrong, at which point he kisses me and tells me that everyone makes mistakes.

Monk thinks it’s fun to brainstorm plots for (as-yet-unwritten) novels with me.

Monk gives me massages (foot, face, back, whatever) when I’m tense.

In many ways, Monk is my male twin. There are silly little things that I do that I thought no one else did. But Monk does them too. (And, no I’m not telling you what they are.)

Monk picks out movies and music he thinks I’ll like – and he’s always right.

Monk laughs at me when I inform him how irresistibly handsome he is, but it’s probably safer for women (and men) everywhere that he not truly understand the seismic power of his big blue eyes and dazzling smile.

If I say, “Try this, it’ll be okay” – then Monk will trust me and take chances with me.

Monk would honestly and diplomatically tell me if these pants made my ass look big.

Monk understands exactly why I fear the things I fear.

Monk has held my hair back while I was rather spectacularly sick with the flu.

Monk can read my body language from across a crowded room. He can often finish my sentences. In fact, he can damn near read my mind sometimes, which would be scary if he wasn’t so good at showing me that he loves what’s in there.

Monk and I can talk endlessly for hours, or we can relax in an easy silence.

Monk and I both have egos of such size and strength that they could lay waste, Godzilla-like, to Tokyo. But our egos do not fight with each other. Instead, they dance.

The new column...Letter from a reader answered.

Also: I got quoted in Esquire magazine, which is charming. (Of course, now I wish I'd said something much more witty and insightful, but that's what I said, so....) My thanks to the writer, Litsa Dremousis, for including me!

So I’d planned on writing something longer, but the sweet summer heat got to me and I’m being lazy.
But – I pulled from the archive an older post that stirred a lot of comments when I first wrote it, just over a year ago. Let’s see what the new kids have to say. (Or, let’s hear what the longer-term readers think about the matter one year later.)
Post comments here, though, so we don’t have to click back to read them.

Talking to strangers: eye contact and the street-corner flirtation.

The new column. I'm picking on my silly callers again.

I'm thinking of interview question to ask the brave souls who volunteered.

I'm also thinking about a new dress. Now, what I should buy is something classic and practical, like this black D&G number. The cut will flatter me, the style won't date much, and I could wear it anywhere, any season.



So why do I have an urge for this madly impractical Pucci number? But can't you just see it with thigh-high boots?

Another note to clients: Late July and August are traditionally slow times of year in the sex industry. (At least in Seattle.) People are away on vacation, or they’re just spending time outside while it’s sunny. So unlike most of the rest of the year, in the late summer, I am often not booked 4 or 5 days out.

Thus, if you’re a guy who can’t book far ahead and has had trouble getting in to see me because of that, this would be the time of year to call me and ask for a next-day appointment with me. *

(*I actually granted someone a same-day appointment the other day, and wouldn’t you know, I wound being sorry I had done so. But that’s a story for another day.)

***

I’m continuing to clean out stacked-up emails, so look for lots of letter-answering in the next few days as I wade through my “Saved Emails” file.

I have a bombshelter (in Seattle) (30 foot tunnel -cinderblock & cement- into the hill behind my house, small room, big room, complete with escape hatch), and really have no use for it. I have been considering renting it out- only real use I can think of (and friends keep suggesting) is as a dungeon. Unfortunately, I'm not into using it for that purpose myself, however, I think anyone inclined in that direction would probably get excited at the prospect. How would I go about renting it out? I would prefer to rent it to the same person(s) on a regular basis. And how much does one charge for the pleasure of a real bomb shelter?

What an interesting question. I have no idea what you should charge, but I’m sure someone would love it. What’s the square footage like? How high is the ceiling? Is it soundproof? Would you let people put in bondage furniture, or install suspension points in the ceiling? How many people do you think would fit in there at any one time?

If anyone’s interested, drop me a note and I’ll forward your email along to this bomb-shelter owner.

The new column, in which I make a faux pas of my own. Apparently Dream Dresser, that kinky clothing company, is no more. I should have known, because I used to get tons of catalogues from them, and then the flow of slick-paper retail therapy abruptly ceased. I thought I had just fallen off their mailing list, but it seems they've closed their doors. Whoops.
Anyway, I've already gotten some "thank you!" responses to this column, and I'm sure I'll get some negative feedback too. So, love it or hate it, there it is...

Gentlemen of my acquaintance: Due to a last-minute cancellation I have most of the afternoon and evening free tomorrow. Call me if you'd like to see me!

From The Inbox

Hello from Chicago,

How are you? I thought I'd ask your expert opinion, as I'm just a "normal" student and feel I might have gotten in over my head. (1)

I have encountered a situation I would very much appreciate your thoughts on. I randomly met an incredibly wealthy attractive person who wants to pay to be my butler or "slave". Though I can't see any negative in this, I'm a bit confused and hoping to avoid being raped/murdered. (2)

Could you refer me to information on this sort of "slavery" or even just dominance and submission? (3)

It seems crazy, but I've been dominant before (not to the point of having a slave or anything) and I could really use the money for grad school. (4)

He grew up in the projects worked hard to get through college, wrote software that made milllons and now fantasizes about being indentured servant to a "perfect" asian woman (apparently very demanding, confident, and goal oriented). He's at that midlife crisis age, lives alone (and apparently friendless?) and describes his personality as akin to that grating but brilliant Dr on the show House (I don't watch TV). Anyway, will he hurt me when he discovers I really meant it when I said I'm not perfect? (5)

Since he is a stranger, I checked his W2, ran a background check and he's clean and could send a kid or dozen through grad school. Do you think I should run a psych eval on him (perhaps myself) as well? (6)

He's making a contract (like a real legal document) indenturing himself to me for lots of money. (7)

I think I'm going to stipulate that he sees a professional psychiatrist to check on his stability. He doesn't seem like a violent person, just eccentric and loving of dog collars. (8)

Thank you so much for reading this,

Just Do It?

PS He doesn't seem to want sex, just to be my slave...I'm very very confused.

Thank you so much for your thoughts on this.

***

Huh. Maybe I’m just feeling bitchy today, but I found myself irritated by this letter. For one thing, I think it’s probably a fake. It just doesn’t feel genuine to me.

But assuming that this writer is what she says she is, and the situation is real, why did this letter piss me off?

1. I don’t like the I'm just a "normal" student remark. Being kinky does not make one abnormal, with or without quotation marks.

2. I also get huffy at the idea that being kinky makes someone likely to be a rapist/murderer. I’m sure that’s a belief that many narrow-minded people share – but if that’s really what you think, then no matter how much money someone offers you, you should not be participating in our sexuality.

3. Can I direct you to some information on kink? Uh, yeah, sweetheart, I can. But don’t ask me to spoon-feed you for free. I disapprove of intellectual laziness. (If this millionaire of yours truly exists, he can pay me to teach you, although I suspect it would be an uphill battle.

4. & 5. If you have “been dominant before” – something I’m rather skeptical about - then why the hell are you making remarks like “will he hurt me when he realizes I’m not perfect?” Has anyone else you’ve “been dominant" with done so?

6. Should you run a psych eval on him or on yourself? See answer number one. Another remark – along with the “it seems crazy” comment - that indicates to me how much you respect people who do BDSM.

7. Apparently both of you cut class the day your history teachers talked about Abe Lincoln and the Civil War, but legal slavery – to include indentured servitude – was actually abolished in this country well over one hundred years ago. Quoted from the 13^th Amendment:

Section 1. Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction.

Thus, there is no such thing as a legal slave contract. They don't exist. You two can write up whatever you want and sign it, and if it pleases you, then that’s fine. But it has no legal power whatsoever. I am always stunned when seemingly intelligent, educated people seem to not be aware of this not-exactly-minor event in American history. I’d of thought they’d at least have seen Gone With The Wind or Roots, or something.

8. Oh Christ, more with the kinky = serial killer crap.

So, in short – no, don’t just do it. If this guy actually exists, he deserves someone who has some basic understanding of, and respect for, how he’s wired. You lack that.

Good Day, Bad Day

The bad news: I got stood up by a client yesterday. Grrr… My instinct told me he was dodgy when he called, but I let him talk me into an appointment. An evening appointment, no less, which I rarely do. He was in from out of town, he had business meetings all day, but he really, really wanted to see me, please, please Mistress….

Oh, all right. Thus, I structured my whole day around coming back to the studio in the evening after I worked out. He even called in the afternoon to confirm. So I made the half hour drive across town from Gold’s, got dressed, got the space ready, and waited. And - he blew me off. No call, nothing. And guys wonder why I don’t make appointments with new people. Bah.

It’s an excellent reminder that I should not let my head overrule my gut instinct. This had all the earmarks of a session destined not to happen, and I just didn’t listen. Take evening appointments. One of the reasons I don’t see people late at night, in spite of being a night person, is that there is a much higher no-show rate for any appointment past eight pm. I don’t know why that’s so, but it is. (Naturally this does not apply to my good friends, who do not stand me up no matter what time we arrange to get together. I am speaking of new people, or people I’ve seen just once before.)

But the nice part of my day was my early appointment. It was with a man I hadn’t seen in some time, although for a while he’d been a good regular of mine. I always liked playing with him – he’s attractive and sweet, and our kinky tastes and style mesh well. So I was very pleased to renew our connection.

There are some delicate courtesies in my profession. If someone you haven’t seen for a while comes around again, you don’t say, “Hey, where have you been? Why haven’t you called?” The whole point is that it’s a no-strings arrangement. If he wants to tell you why he hasn't been around, he will.

So I simply told my old friend I was pleased to see him again, and wondered aloud how long it had been since we’d played.

“Three and a half years,” he responded instantly.

Longer than I thought – and goodness, wasn’t that a fast answer. I made a pleasant noncommittal remark, but arranged my face into a care-to-tell-me-more? expression.

“Well, you see – I was getting a little too attached to you,” he said. “We had such great times together, and you’re such a cool person, and… I just was thinking about you all the time.” He ducked his head a little, sheepishly. “But it’s my birthday and I really wanted to see you, so – I thought it would be okay now. And you’re just as great as I remembered you being.”

My, my – what a way to make a girl feel flattered by your absence.

I had a very Harry Potter-ish weekend. Friday night some pals and I went to see the latest HP movie. After it was over, we walked over to the Barnes and Noble in Pacific Place and said hi to Puck and her sister, who were waiting in line to get the new Harry Potter book. It was after midnight, the store was full of people wearing various HP-themed costumes and colored wristbands that indicated their place in order-filling process – a real-world version of the Sorting Hat, you might say.

Naturally I had pre-ordered mine, so I wouldn't have to wait in line. However, watching people leave with their hardbacks clutched jealously to their chests, I had a pang of regret that it wouldn’t be delivered until the next day. Someone remarked that Amazon should have charged everyone a few dollars more and had the book delivered on the stroke of midnight. Hey, I’d probably have paid it.

I considered writing a column about the connection between kinky people and Harry Potter - something about how we relate to the otherness of witches in general, and Harry Potter in particular. But I think the character’s insanely widespread popularity is testament to the fact that many people feel like they are outsiders, misunderstood and persecuted, at some time in their lives. A commentary on our culture, perhaps.

Saturday afternoon when I came home from a housewarming party, there was a fat little box on my doorstep, and oh, how I really wanted to just curl up on the couch and dive into Book Seven. However, I made myself work on That Writing Project until about midnight. That was about as long as I could be self-disciplined.

I’ve now finished the book. I admit it – before I even started, I read the last page. I never do that with books, but I just needed to know what to prepare myself for, you know?

So, with that information in my head… I enjoyed the book. I have wondered before if knowing her books would be made into movies would impact Rowling's writing, and I do think there's some Hollywood influence in this one, especially in the epilogue. But it's still good fun. I know Rowling says that’s it, the end, but I do think she’s created an engaging world there, and I could see creating other characters and stories in the same reality. But I don’t blame her if she doesn’t. Lord knows, she doesn’t need the money.

The movie was fun also – although they have to jump so fast and leave so much of books out of the film, it’s more like watching a really long trailer. And there was not nearly enough hissing, sneering Alan Rickman in this movie, wah. Still, I have a slight thing for Daniel Radcliffe, so… those scenes where he’s tossing and turning in bed, damp with sweat, flushed and panting, looking like he’s in (beautiful) pain? Yeah. I have to admit those little snippets turned me right on. I admitted as much to Puck later, and she said, “Yeah, I thought the scenes where Professor Umbridge is talking how Harry is bad and needs to be punished were kinda kinky.”

Maybe I need to find a cute just-barely-18-year-old boy and do a Bellatrix Lestrange/Harry Potter scene. I know what I’d do with my wand.

Monk and I fly home today. It's been a great trip, but we'll both be glad to be home. Wish us a good flight, and a happy reunion with Max and Tambo....

So I began this post thinking: this guy is not a total twit.

But he is barking up the wrong tree. I mean, this guy isn’t even in the right forest. My original motivation for running his letter in the blog was because I knew this man is not alone in his stated desires. He’s also not alone in hoping I’ll give him my attention.

Unfortunately for him and his brethren, what he’s seeking is not something I’m interested in. I wish them luck, but I am not a female supremacist, and I am not looking for personal slaves. Because the smallest amount of research would have revealed that, I decided to give him a few taps with Mistress Matisse’s clue stick.

Mistress Matisse,

First let me start by saying that i genuinely do not want to waste Your time. If You have read this far, i thank You very much and gratefully appreciate it. With that, i am writing for maybe a little different reason than most. i am sure You have received emails like this before though as i am sure. i am a male submissive. i am a full believer in Female Supremacy. i would be interested in sessioning with You, however, i think i may be looking for more.

Quibbles: a full believer in female supremacy? As opposed to…a partial believer? A member of the American Association of Reformed Female Supremacists?

I am not down with the lower-case i thing. It offends me as a writer. I think I have a few upper-case “Me/My” usages on my professional website. I admit it, I caved to peer pressure years ago and never bothered to correct it. But in the soon-to-be-launched new site, there will be none of that.

i really want to stress that i don't want to waste Your time, but i am really looking for something permanent with a Mistress. i truly believe in Female Supremacy as i mentioned and it is truly a lifestyle that i would like to live. i know many say that 24/7 is not possible and is too strenuous on both the Domme and the sub which is probably true to some degree, but if there were ever such a thing, i would love to one day find it and make it happen or at least get as close to 24/7 as possible. Based on reading Your entire site, i don't think this is something that You are looking for which is understandable.

Ok, so – you know I’m not looking for this. But you’re asking me anyway, because that's just how submissive you are. Hmmmnn…

That said, i truly just hope to find a Mistress that one day at Her discretion may decide to collar me and take ownership of me. Please don't take this as me trying to Dom from below either. i certainly would never, ever Dom from below once i find that one Mistress that takes me as Hers.

He seems to have no compunction about trying to get me to do what he wants, but I can only assume that’s because I haven’t taken him as mine.

Like i said, i don't want to waste Your time but i thought maybe You would be a good resource to get to know. So the main reason i am writing to You is to see if You might have the interest and or the time to assist me in anyway in moving forward for in my goals. And i am certainly willing to tribute You in any way that You want and require in exchange for any time, advice, or assistance that You may be able to lend to me or help me with if You are interested in something like this.

Actually I doubt I'd be the best resource for him, since my philosophy and practice of BDSM seems to be rather different from his.

I’m also not sure what he means by “tribute”. If he means he’d pay me my usual rate to be his kink advisor…Well, even then, I probably would wish him the best and politely decline. I don’t think I’d feel ethical about taking someone’s money for that. I know how I got where I am, and I think I can give good advice to my friends when they ask for it. But I’m not a therapist and I’m not a matchmaker, either. When you accept someone’s money, you accept some responsibility for the situation. I wouldn’t take money for a job I wasn’t sure I could do.

Besides, I have a feeling he doesn’t mean cash on the barrelhead. I think he means some type of service exchange, and I don’t do that with people I don’t know. (Hell, I rarely do it at all.)

Finally, if You made it this far, i thank You for reading my message, and spending a few minutes with me as i explain myself. i know Your time is very precious and valuable and i do hope i have not wanted it.

So, I scanned over this email quickly, saw that it wasn’t anything I wanted to involve myself with, and went on to the next thing. He gave it a shot, no harm in asking, but he’s right: it’s not something I’m looking for.

A few days later, he resends the email with this tacked on the top:

i just wanted to write once more and say that i hope i did not offend You or upset You with my email from the other night. i am sure You are very busy and whether You plan to write back to me or not, i just hope i did not upset You or make You feel as if i wasted Your time. i truly did not and do not want to. i hope You are having a wonderful week.

Offend me? Upset me? Dude, I’m a sex worker. I have an ad in the back of the Stranger. I regularly get voicemails in which callers bark like dogs and talk dirty to me. People send me photos of their genitals and beg me for dirty underwear. You’re not even in the same galaxy as anything that would upset me or offend me, and I suspect you know it. This little game of faux-contrition is just a second attempt to get my attention. You took a sharp turn from nice, but not for me into manipulative sleeve-tugger. You keep reiterating how you don’t want to waste my time? Well, you’re wasting both yours and mine. Trot along, boy, I’m not interested.

I’m still on vacation. Monk and I are almost alarmed by how relaxed we are. At least, we would be, if we weren’t so relaxed.

We’re hanging around the beach, eating food that’s bad for us, and drinking drinks with umbrellas in them. Or rather, I am. He’s mainly drinking Mexican beer.

So far, I’ve gotten a mild sting from a jellyfish. No big deal, I’ve had worse. (But no, I did not ask Monk to piss on it.) And he has some sunburned spots on his leg where I missed with the sunscreen. But other than that, everything is going just grand. He'll be posting about it in his blog as well, so go over there if you want his take on things.

Here’s a completely non-kinky video clip of a really odd-looking creature that we learned was a horseshow crab. Ew. Looks like a prehistoric monster. Monk is convinced it’s been swimming through some nuclear waste and will quickly grow to enormous size and start eating co-eds. So if you don’t hear from us ever again, you’ll know: the Mutant Crab got us.

New column: I hope you'll be entertained by this...

While I get ready to pick up Monk at the airport, and entertain him - and probably some other people as well - with this...

While I'm away, check out this really good example of a really bad poly situation. That's my take, at least. I think the man involved should keep his pants zipped and be, if anything, a platonic, non-kinky friend to this young girl. Because the whole think looks like a train wreck waiting to happen. Too many red flags to ignore...

I am so not ready to leave town tomorrow! But there is no denying that packing for non-fetishy travel is simpler than packing for kink events.


No latex, no thigh-high boots, no trench-coat to cover myself up as I walk through hotel lobbies - it's easy.

But I had to do something rather masochistic over the weekend: shop for a bathing suit. Now, I have two bathing suits already, and they're gorgeous, but they're ridiculously expensive little creations, designed for lounging elegantly in the hot tub at a hotel. I would just not feel right about wearing them in and out of the ocean all day, sitting in the sand, and then throwing them over a railing to dry.

So I thought: no big deal, I'll just go buy some inexpensive little suit somewhere and let it get trashed.

Well. How naive of me. Old Navy and Target yielded nothing that I would be caught dead in. Even Macy's wasn't that great. And I had Jae with me, who kept trying to get me to try on dreadful Hawaiian print stuff, just because she's bratty that way. No. I don't want a boring navy-blue tank suit, but I refuse to wear anything that's all tarted up with faux gold chains and sequins, either. It was like all the suits were either for a) teenage girls who idolize Mariah Carey and Lil Kim, or b) their sensible mini-van driving mothers. I am neither of those things.

And I was further handicapped by having resolved not to pay more than twenty-five dollars per piece for this silly thing. It's funny - I like expensive clothes and I will buy them. But sometimes I just get it in my head that I am not going to spend a lot of money on X item, and that's it. I am not going to the damn South of France, you know? I'm not even going to Hawaii. My destination is extremely casual. So it would just be silly to be swanning around in some suit that cost more than the locals make in a day.

I'll just have to do some shopping when I arrive. Hopefully a warmer climate will have better choices. Wish me a good flight!

Fashionable Friends

Note: All photo links today are work-safe!

The women’s clothing sale/swap was last Sunday, and it was great. It was sort of what one would call a “proof of concept” event. As the hostess, I wasn’t really sure how it would all work out. I just knew I had a ton of clothes and other stuff, that while I could eBay them and probably make more money, this would be more fun.

Because it's not really about wanting a ton of money. Especially with my fetishwear, my clothes have some stories and some history to them. I have some one-of-a-kind, local-designer stuff - costumes I wore in fashion shows at places like SAM and The Showbox in the late nineties. And they don't fit me anymore, I'm smaller now. I'd like to see them go to someone who is as excited about having them as I once was. It seems like a waste to have them sit in a box in my closet.

So a dozen of my pals showed up with stuff to sell, and probably another half dozen folks came just to shop and be social, and we had a ball. It was mostly all girls. Max was hanging out, holding one cute girl’s new baby while she tried on clothes. (The baby tried some things too.) And then later a boy who looks good in women’s clothes came by, so we dressed him up a little.

But overall, it was lot of women running around in their panties (or nothing, in some cases) trying on each other’s clothes.

Observations: it’s very interesting to watch four different women, who all look different in their body shapes, all try on the same piece of clothing. There were certain garments – like a cute black jumpsuit – that more or less fit many of us, in spite of four to six inches in height differentials, and a difference of twenty pounds in weight from the smallest person to the largest.

The other interesting thing about this event: at some point, every single woman I invited made some variation of the same remark to me. “Well, there’s probably not going to be very much there that’ll fit me, because I’m so fat/thin/tall/short/busty/hippy/whatever.” Baloney. If you didn’t come because of that, you missed out. There was a variety of sizes, and even aside from clothes proper, there were awesome shoes and other accessories – I scored some rocking retro 80’s ankle boots, and some gorgeous bling at an amazing price. I am becoming such a jewelry-loving girl, and I have a weakness for the "statement" ring. They're topaz, amethyst, an art deco ring with little sapphires and a diamond, and an aquamarine. They all need to be sized down, and I’m actually thinking of getting new settings designed for the solitaires. But I got them from a friend who I trust, and that made me feel good about buying them in a way that I wouldn’t if I’d gotten them online.

So, from the biggest and tallest to the tiniest person, we all got rid of stuff we didn’t have any more use for and we all got new-to-us stuff that we’re happy with. As things wound down, we all agreed that we should do this again. Any excuse to run around in our underwear.

Happy Fourth Of July, my friends. Today I'm going to hang with my pals, cook burgers on the grill, and be pleased to be an American. Even in the middle of what is surely the most venal, corrupt and callous presidential administration of my lifetime.

Form Letters of Love

Hmmnn, I'm feeling vicious today. I want to be mean to someone. Right now.

That's easy. Just open the inbox, and presto!

This email has the distinct whiff of a form letter. I suspect that the writer CC's it to ladies on the various BDSM personal-ads sites. (Probably without regard to whether they identify as dominant or submissive - men on those sites often do that. Post a cute picture, and no matter what you say about yourself, some guy will write you and say, no, no, you just don't understand that it's your true nature to be a stern Mistress/helpless slave! Or they'll just ignore your text completely and address you as if you already are what they want you to be.

Why he's sent it me, I have no idea. The very smallest amount of research would indicate that I'm going to fillet him here on the public blog, but perhaps he'll enjoy the attention.

Dear Mistress Matisse,

Your passion for life, and love for BDSM attracted my attention and since we share common values I thought it would be great to introduce myself to you. My name is XXX, 6ft, single, never married, no kids, caring, genuine and loving person seeking a loving, caring Goddess like you.

Note the sincere-sounding but carefully vague compliment. We share common values? Really? One of my values is I don't pester strangers, and I'm afraid you're striking out there. Also, I am not a deity that I am aware of. Neither am I single. And why does he include his height in a list of common values?

I really like you enjoy being a Goddess, have a great sense of humor and sharing intelligent conversations with you would be nice. I am also very new to the BDSM scene, and would love to talk to you and learn from you. True submission comes ONLY from the heart, and I am willing to give myself completely to you and to worship you in mind, body and spirit. I have always been intrigued by the BDSM scene and am seeking a mistress and a lover.

More non-specific compliments, and phrases I think he cribbed from some One True Way kink site somewhere. I think that first phrase is supposed to read "I really like THAT you enjoy being a Goddess..." As opposed to, "I really, like you, enjoy being a Goddess..." Which would make him a Goddess, too. I know it's snarky to pick on typos - I make them myself. But Jesus, if you're going to send unsolicited form mash notes to a strange Mistress who's also a writer, could you at least proofread them?

New BDSM people often love to make sweeping capital-letters statements about what True Submission is - and what organ it must spring from. Oh please. Sorry, as comforting as it would be to think that you leave all the confusing complexity of human nature behind you when you enter the dungeon, it's ain't so.

I am at the point in my life where I am looking for a life partner with whom to share home, travel, and enjoying our lives. While I'm politically and socially very progressive, I am pretty traditional when it comes to relationships and family. I value commitment, loyalty and the usual "family values." I like talk, closeness, and affection and am most compatible with women who feel comfortable with the same.

This is how I know this is a form letter. Um, hi, I'm the polyamorous dominatrix? Perhaps ten seconds with Mistress Google would have shown you that? So, no, I am not traditional when it comes to relationships, and I do not have "the usual family values". I am a walking, talking threat to that entire system. Yay me.

I Sincerely believe that....... 1. A submissive's place is to honor his Mistress 2. A submissive's place is to obey his Mistress 3. A submissive's purpose is to serve his Mistress 4. A submissive's pleasure is in accepting Guidance and Discipline 5. A submissive's joy is to please his Mistress.

Blah blah copied from a website blah blah usual cliches blah blah completely meaningless blah blahbbity blah...
Oh, but wait, here's the "call to action". That's what they call it in marketing, right?

Are you looking to create a life which combines love, family, stability and adventure? If so, I'd love to hear from you.

No, I'm not. I prefer seething lust, deliberate childlessness and spontaneity. And yes, adventure. But just not with you.

Prompted by a pal’s remarks in a private journal, I read this article yesterday in the NYT about women who have rather time- and money- intensive personal-care routines. Nice to read about how relatively low-maintenance I am. Lord knows I feel like I spend more time than I really should having various beauty-type things done to me.

Articles like this arouse conflicting emotions in me. What I am clearly supposed to think when I read this is “Wow, those women are ridiculously vain, self-indulgent and shallow, and their priorities are terribly skewed.” Indeed, they might be. I don’t know those women. But I dislike feeling that they’ve been hand-picked and set up by the NYT for me to simultaneously envy and loathe.

And maybe it’s just me, but I don’t think some of what they do is that excessive. I get my hair done every three weeks, and my eyebrows waxed, and I have an amazing dermatologist who takes care of my skin. So, a thousand bucks a week? No way. But not because I disapprove of the idea of cosmetic self-improvement. (I wonder if that hyperbaric oxygen chamber thing really works?)

In the matter of the lead interview subject, Ms. Grace: I do think that two different physical trainers seems odd. But don’t you love how they’re lumping physical fitness in with manicures? Rather different things, I would have said. Regardless of why you want a buff body, the long-term benefits of having one are greater than the benefits of perfectly buffed toes. So I think that’s cheating.

What also interests me is how while the Times delights in detailing exactly how much all these things cost the interview subjects, they don’t tell us what percentage of these women’s income those fees make up. If Ms Grace makes, say, four hundred thousand dollars a year in her job as a realtor and she feels that looking a certain way helps her make that money, then a thousand dollars a week to maintain her looks is not that unreasonable.

Okay, maybe it’s a little high. And if she makes $150,000 dollars a year, then a thousand a week begins to seem out of balance. But in fact, it’s her money. Would the Times approve of her more if she spent it on fine wines, or sports cars, or antique art? Because I have seen articles in the Times detailing the joys of all those things, with nary a suggestion that it wasn’t the best and highest use of someone’s money.

And I love this snarky little injection about how if a woman invested the money she spends on manicures she’d have a fortune when she’s 65. The implication is that women in general should never get manicures, because it’s frivolous, and that seems both condescending and unfair. It also suggests – without actually saying so - that these particular women are managing their money badly, something I doubt the Times really knows.

Now, do I think young women should save and invest money? Hell yes - I wish I’d started younger. But to present it as an either/or is overly simplistic. You could make the same comparison about damn near anything. If you gave up the non-essential pleasures in life that cost money and saved the cash, yes, you’d have it when you were old. But what about having some enjoyment in life while you’re living it? How many things do we all do just because it’s nice and we enjoy it, even if the pleasure is fleeting?

I also completely agree with these women – looking good helps you in the world. There is not a shadow of a doubt about it. And looking good has as much to do with one’s perception of oneself as it does with how other people react to you. I myself have had beauty things done where I thought, “The only person who’s noticing this is me.” But I was noticing, and it was driving me nuts, so, I dealt with it, and I was happier. So I definitely don't think that looking good must involve spending lots of money, but if you've got it and you think it helps, go ahead.

But this article is manipulative journalism, and I think it's manipulating women in a way that's not pretty. We’re supposed to shake our heads at these women, but we’re also being subtly encouraged to consider our own beauty routine, whatever that is. Does it need upgrading? Could we find more ways to spend time and money on it, perhaps even within the NYT’s very own advertisers? Because there are plenty of ads for beauty products and services within those very pages.

You can call it foolish to set such store by appearance, but it’s a trait of human nature and it always will be. And in a capitalist culture, people are going to sell things designed to appeal to that. People have to make their own decisions about what they want to buy. But I think a newspaper like the NYT should be above using editorial space to stir up resentment of other women’s choices and using that emotion to make money for it’s advertisers.