All right, I am forced to admit it - I am have been struck down by the Martian Death Flu that stalked so many of my friends this past winter. I was pleased that I had escaped it, and then - boom.
Thus I have not been blogging. Hell, I haven't been sitting up right very much.
This came on late Saturday, and I expect to be fine by Monday. The question of what I'm doing this weekend is hanging precariously in the balance, however, since I am booked to leave for Portland today, and that seems...iffy. I'll keep you posted, now that I can be out of bed for more than five minutes at a time.
Bah. Stupid flu.

Oh, my Dear Readers, I've neglected you shamefully, haven't I? Here's a podcast of Monk and I talking about what's going on in our professional lives lately...

More soon!

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It sort of baffles me when people read things I didn’t write…

Like this blogger, who has somehow gotten the facts turned backwards.

"I have read on Mistress Matisse’s blog that she has a couple of “servants,” submissives who do her housework for her."

No, I do not have “slaves” who do my housework for me. I wrote a whole column about how I don't have household slaves, because while it's certainly fun if you want to create D/s relationships, it is not at all time-efficient in terms of actually getting housework done.

And this reader, who has a perfectly legitimate question, which I am completely unable to answer.

I remember you had a column a few months ago where you mentioned a friend who was very knowledgeable about BDSM during pregnancy. I recently found out I'm pregnant, but I haven't found a lot of reliable looking/trustworthy sites that discuss what's safe and what isn't during pregnancy. Does the friend you mentioned in that article have a blog? Do you have any recommendations for any other sites that you know are reputable? I'm sorry to bother you but you're one of the people I trust on this sort of topic.

Well, first: congratulations! And second: no, you're not bothering me, but I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. I do not have any pals who are experts on BDSM during pregnancy, and I can't find any place I said that I did. Send me a link, anyone, if you see where I did, and I'll eat my words.

I know three kinky women who are now or were recently pregnant, and if they are inclined, I can get a quote from them about what they did and didn't do, but I think you’re gonna need to talk to your own doctor about this.

But here’s some things I really and truly did say: a new site, PinkNighties.com, who did an interview with me – check them out!

A letter from a reader...

I have been curious for some time regarding the femmes. Where are the feminine girls/ladies/women in Seattle? Granted, I don't get out as much as I would like to but I do travel all over from Everett to Federal Way and I have yet to find the femmes. I can see why a guy would be bewildered in a most playful, erotic and open minded city as Seattle. I have been here for over 11 years and have not seen the femme ladies of Seattle.

There are lots of women here who seem to be more butch than the guys. There's nothing wrong with being butch, assertive, smart and making dollar to dollar - I have got no problem with any of that - however, a guy like me would really appreciate some stilettos and a nice walk that I can't stop staring at. I mean, some hip motion that begs me to crash my car - that's what I'm talking about!

My lesbian roomate goes on and on about how there are no lesbian femmes here either - in the most "out" city next to San Francisco. She may as well go back to Kansas! Where are the femmes? Both of us are competing for the same type of women here. Please help!
Is there a club or a secret hideout where the femmes are (both straight and gay would be great)? Is there a secret society online that I don't know about?

I’m rather baffled by this letter. Dear Reader Of Mine, I think you are confusing your terms. The words butch and femme, in this context, refer to the sexual/gender identity/presentation of non-heterosexual women. Got that? Queer women.

When a heterosexual woman wears high heels and makeup, etc, I do not call that being femme. That’s called being feminine. It does not get a special word because it’s often considered to be “normal” for straight women. I am not personally endorsing that view, and it is certainly not the only way of expressing the concept of femininity.

As you have noticed, many straight women do not do this, or at least not all the time. It's a hell of a lot of work and expense, for one thing. And it may astonish you to know this, but a lot of women don't want to be stared at by random guys driving down the street. I myself have had times when I fervently wished such a person would crash his car.

So there are any number of reason why women don't look/dress in super-feminine ways all the time. However, that doesn’t make them butch. A butch is a queer woman who self-identifies as such and who does generally adopt some ways of dressing and acting that people would call masculine. But being a butch has nothing to do with income, intelligence or assertiveness. For that matter, neither does being femme, or feminine.

It is noteworthy that many not-heterosexual women do not classify themselves as either butch OR femme. They are simply… not-heterosexual women. And there’s a broad range of butch and femme looks and manners.

(One rarely hears straight women refer to themselves as butch. However, I have heard queer-aware straight women use the label femme. I think that's a tiny bit rude. If you're a straight woman who wears girly clothes and looks/acts in ways that generally line up with societal norms, you don't need a special word to describe your presentation and emphasize that you're doing it on purpose. Femme lesbians do, because many people still assume that lesbian = butch. So let the queer girly-girls have that word, okay?)

However, Dear Reader Of Mine, none of this pertains to your dating options, because you’re a guy, and thus I really don't think you and your roommate are competing for the same women. (Yes, a queer woman of any flavor can choose to fuck a man. But I think it’s better for a man to assume that a woman who calls herself lesbian/gay/queer/whatever is unavailable, as far as he is concerned. If she wants to make an exception for him, she can let him know that.)

What I’m hearing is that you think Seattle women don’t dress up much. You’re right, they don’t. This is a town where people go to the opera and swanky restaurants in clothes they bought at REI or Costco. It’s just the way it is. You want dressed-up women? Go to Chicago. The women there knocked me out with how stylish they were.

And if there was a secret hangout of the femmes/feminine women – besides, say, Sephora, or the Nordstrom shoe department - I couldn’t tell you about it, could I? If I did, they’d have to kill me.

A few final remarks...I'm amused, in a rather cynical way, how much more outraged people who aren't sex workers have been over the Eliot Spitzer issue than those of us who are. I'm hearing a lot about the hypocrisy!

Yeah, that's true. But that's the way the game is played, you know? I don't expect any different from a politician and an officer of the court.

I simply hope that giving that NYT interview nets the girl involved, "Kristen", the recording contract she's so clearly after.

I was masochistic enough to read the threads about this on a few feminist blogs, and good lord, I had to close the window and go do some deep breathing. Such a maddening combination of prostitutes are dirty whores whose lives should be made as unpleasant as possible AND/OR prostitutes are deluded victims who need to be protected from themselves whether they like it or not. The truly talented people are the ones who can hold both positions at the same time, switching deftly from one to the other as necessary. And don't bother trying to tell them there's another option, because look, they have statistics to back this up!

Oh, statistics? Oh well, all right then, those of us who actually are sex workers will sit down and shut up and let ya'll decide what we deserve, thank you ma'am. I do not even participate in such threads. I have learned through infuriating experience that this is not a discussion based in reason, it's based on ideology, and you will never argue an ideologue out of their position.

However, a pal sent me this little round-up of all the logical fallacies being bandied about. It was quite refreshing. (You'll have to click through a Salon ad, but it's worth it.)

EDIT: I see that the author of the article I linked to has linked back to me, how nice. Thank you, Glenn Greenwald.

I respect that he also linked to another piece with a different point of view than mine, that's what he should do. However, I am highly skeptical of this “Ruth Henderson” person. A lot of what she says about the behaviors of clients rings true enough, although it's nothing that hasn't been said before. But this part makes me shake my head.

And then one day, usually between the ages of 25 and 28, once they’d developed that knowing, experienced look that clients instinctively disliked, they found that themselves in a classic bind: they were addicted to high living but could no longer pay for it; they had no marketable skills...

She's saying that at 28, a woman is too old to be marketable as a sex worker anymore. And that's about the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. Who the hell was she booking for, Barely Legal Lolitas? I myself am definitely over 28. And I am doing just fine, as are all the sex workers I know - and that's a lot - most of whom are also over 28. What an absurd thing to put forth...

Schedule, Travel, and Bikinis…

Some notes about where I will be, and when, and why. (And some musings about the fashion requirements thereof….)

I’ve got some travel coming up, and I also just have some blocks of time already booked up. So if you’re wanting to see me in the next six weeks or so, here’s my schedule.

(Note: this was current when I hit “Publish”, but obviously I’ll get more booked as time goes by. Carpe diem.)

Monday March 17^th: One appointment open, between 2-4 pm .

Tuesday March 18^th: Time available.

Wednesday March 19^th: Time available.

Thursday March 20^th : Already booked

Friday March 21^st: One appointment open, between 4-6 pm .

Monday March 24^th and Tuesday March 25^th : Already booked

Wednesday March 26^th: One appointment open, later afternoon.

Thursday March 27^th – Monday March 31^st: Out of town for Kinkfest.

I’m back and available as of Tuesday April 1^st.

After Kinkfest, I’m in town and have plenty of time available until April 23^rd. I’ll be out of town from April 23^rd to the 28^th.

I’m going on a family vacation in Florida. Yes, really! And Monk is going with me, though, so that will be fun. (Wait until my mother gets a load of his tattoo, that’s going to be an interesting conversation.)

Mainly we’re just going to relax on the beach, but it turns out that Monk has never been to a theme park! Which just boggles my mind, since I’ve been to lots. So I think we’ll do a day at Disneyworld, just because it’s a cultural experience everyone should have.

I find it rather amusing that I have tons of stuff to wear for the upcoming BDSM conference, but I have nothing to wear in Florida! This is going to stun you – not - but there actually isn’t a ton of hot-weather clothing available in Seattle right now. I need some shorts and some beach sandals, and another pair of sunglasses, all of which are do-able here. But I also need a couple of bathing suits, and that’s going to be tricky. You see, my mother will be slightly-but-noticeably disapproving if I am sashaying around in a tiny thong bikini. I try to be sensitive to her views, however there is no way I’m buying one of those one-piece skirted jobs. That’s just too conservative for me. I’m going to try to split the difference and get a two-piece with a not-too-much-cleavage top and the boy-shorts type bottom. I might be able to get away with this one, it's sharp-looking, and it is a one-piece, so... Wish me luck, ladies, we all know how exasperating shopping for a bathing suit is, it’s even worse than buying blue jeans.

While I am on the subject of this trip, let me just insert two thank-you’s here. One is to Monk’s wife Tambo, who is the coolest thing in the world for being so completely fine with Monk going out of town with me. And the other shout-out is to the guy who scored me a pair of first-class airline tickets to Orlando. Flying coach down to Florida would be a level of hell that I do not wish to endure. You rock, my friend.

Bye!

For those who you liked the "that's not my dog" expression, here's some more of my personal lexicon of slang, specifically phrases to do with break-ups…

“It’s in the room…” a phrase coined by Miss K and I when I was getting divorced some years back. It refers to the idea that once your relationship begins to seriously falter, the possibility that you two might break up becomes like this unacknowledged third entity that lives in the house with you. Like a ghost that hovers over you while you lie in bed with your backs to each other, or blows a cold breeze around you as you eat a tense dinner, but which you both pretend you don’t see or feel. If someone says, “Do you think Chris and Pat are going to break up?” And I reply, “Yeah, I think it’s in the room,” then I mean, “Unless some fast and dramatic steps are taken, the relationship is going to end.”

“Propping up the corpse…” This is the next phase, which happens after the, “it’s in the room” stage. The relationship is now past saving, and the ghost in the house has turned into a smelly rotting mess that no one really believes will ever live again, but which the couple is not quite prepared to bury. Propping up the corpse refers specifically to the too-little, too-late efforts someone might make to save what's already dead. “Chris and Pat are going to therapy, but after everything that’s happened, they’re just propping up the corpse.”

(Yes, I know that corpses usually then become ghosts, and not vice versa. These are just expressions, people.)

What made me think of these expressions is a letter I got from a reader asking for my advice…

“My girlfriend and I decided to open our relationship, a decision into which we put a lot of thought and effort....There seemed to be no real downside to it, especially given the fact that I knew my own mind pretty well, and even though I'd never been in an open relationship, I was sure that our understanding of how it would work would be OK for me. She actually HAD been, previously, and thus I was sure no problems would arise from her quarter.”

When she found a prospective 'secondary' boyfriend, I was sort of happy for her. He seemed a bit bent on the idea of making her 'his' from what she told me of him, but she didn't see that in him, so I was OK with it. She wanted to go visit him for the weekend, all the way across the state....Prior to this, she'd said "I'll feel bad if you don't get laid while I'm there. You should fuck [my friend]!" Over the course of the weekend, speaking to her on the phone (twice!), I said that I was going to attempt that, to which her response was, "Have fun!"

At this point, I have no doubt that you can forsee something horrible occurring.

Indeed, I had sex with her friend, simply for lack of anything better to do… Nothing emotional, just something to do while we were waiting to watch a movie that was taking a long time downloading....

Upon arriving home, she got upset about this. She's completely alienated her former friend, and by her own admission subconsciously/accidentally sabotaged our relationship, potentially fatally. She says that she wants to get past it, but now she's unilaterally changed the rules that we established to govern the 'openness' of our relationship to suit her new desire to interact with this fellow whenever possible - to the complete detriment of our own currently faltering one....

I'm at a loss for what to do. We have plenty of polyamorous friends, and I've suggested that she speak to ANY of them for advice on the current dilemma, rather than talking to him about it. She acknowledges that it's a good idea, then completely fails to do it....

...She's acknowledged that her current feelings are due to infatuation, but that she's also willing to entertain thoughts of ending our relationship if she feels that she's being forced to choose. I told her in reply to that that she needs to learn to control her emotions - that infatuation is like a drug, and if it becomes that unhealthy, she needs to cut it off and maybe try again when she can handle it. She nodded, but I really think the point went in one ear and out the other….”

My answer: it’s in the room with you two, and I hate to say it, but I think you are very close to propping up the corpse.

You both made some rookie errors here - she’s dating someone not supportive of her existing relationship, and changing the rules to get her New Person Fix.

And you slept with someone because you had nothing better to do? Good lord. I would not repeat that explanation if I were you, because it does not reflect well on you as a gentleman. Nor does it make you sound very thoughtful or examined about what exactly you're doing here. “I have a slow internet connection, so let’s fuck," does not equal polyamory, in my book.

But none of this would be unrecoverable if you both wanted to fix it. However, one person cannot save a relationship, and it sounds like she’s about halfway out the door. My guess is she just wants you to say, “Pick him or me”, to which she’ll promptly say, “Okay, him.” It’s an exit strategy I have seen before.

So if she remains unwilling to do any work to salvage this, then you can either feed her the parting line she obviously wants, or you can just leave yourself. I suppose she might come after you if you leave first, although I wouldn’t count on it.

That downside you two didn’t foresee? This would be it. Lots of monogamous relationships end in breakups, too, so it isn’t like polyamory was necessarily the cause. In this case it looks more like the method. It reminds me of the grim phrase “suicide by cop”. I wonder what would the phrase be in this case… (relationship) “murder by poly” ?

Here's a photo of me from karaoke Saturday night, looking slightly sweaty and bedraggled and singing about how my champagne brings all the boys to the yard. Or something. Note the dollar bill that Monk stuffed into my jeans.
I just regret that I didn't notice that they had AC/DC's tender, sensitive ballad "Big Balls", because I definitely would have done that one instead.
























On more serious topics - lord, I bet I got a dozen emails pointing me to the Eliot Spitzer story. Very interesting. I have just written a column about some aspects of the situation, so I can't say too much about it. But yeah, I imagine this is being rather stressful for him. Sources say he'll resign, but personally, I hope he doesn't.

If I sound like I have some sympathy for him - well, I do. He got hoist on his own law-and-order petard here, and he definitely should have to cop to that. (No pun intended.)

And on a purely practical note: really, Mr. Spitzer, what were you thinking crossing state lines in a matter like this, when you know that means the Feds can get involved? If you'd kept it within NY borders, you'd have had a chance of hushing it up.

So yeah, he did something dumb, and he's a bit of a hypocrite on the issue. Hey, he's a politician. Hypocrisy comes with the territory. I admit, I don't know everything there is to know about his career up until now, but at this point, I am not prepared to burn him down.

Sex is a matter that makes fools and hypocrites of a lot of us. The only way stuff like this will ever stop being an issue is if people refuse to back down from it. You damn their eyes and stay, Eliot. But keep your petard in your pants for a while.

Wow, that karaoke party? That was a bit surreal. A whole bunch of us were stuffed into this not-very-large room, it was very warm, and as the evening went on, and - at least on my end of the couch - more champagne was consumed, we were all laughing and singing with increasing enthusiasm and volume. Some of us were moved to get up and dance a bit, so with the noise and the heat and the music, it was rather like being in a twenty-by-twenty foot nightclub. Highly amusing.

(Did I sing? Well, you could call it that. Am I going say anything else about that? Hell, no. I think we all agreed that karaoke rooms were like Vegas - what happens there, stays there.)

So I'm recovering from that new cultural experience. Meanwhile, listen to a new podcast. Monk and I talk a little bit about the upcoming leather conference, Kinkfest, and then read a letter from a polyamorous reader who asks about poly rules. (The referenced column is here.)

***

Also, a note to my clients: This Wednesday is completely free for me. If you've been trying to get time with me, shoot me an email before someone else snags it.

I have not felt like much like writing this week. So I’m glad many of ya’ll liked the column, and were kind enough to send me notes saying so. Those are always nice emails to get.

***

A friend of mine who is in grad school is doing a paper about issues for older female-to-male transexual/transgender people. She is “…looking for input from 57+ yr old FTMs on the issues they face specific to the tranny experience as relates to aging, especially psychosocially.”

If you’re an older FTM who’d be willing to answer some questions for her, drop me a note and I’ll forward it to her. This is a queer woman who has had long-term FTM partners, so she’s hip to all the basic issues. You won’t have to answer any uninformed questions or teach her FTM 101. It would be a big help to her.

***

I feel I should warn you all… I am going to a birthday party for a pal Saturday night. It’s a karaoke party. Yes, really – they rented a private room. And I might, just might, actually contemplate singing. If I have enough champagne. (Yes, it’s being a fairly champagne-heavy week around here. I feel I deserve it.)

But you see, I absolutely do not sing unless I have champagne. And ideally, everyone who hears me should have a lot of champagne too, because I sing really badly. I know everyone says that, but I’m serious – when I sing, dogs howl.

Still, if my listeners are rendered sufficiently uncritical by alcohol, I can sort of fake my way through novelty-type songs. As long they don’t require any sustained notes. Meanwhile, Monk is trying to convince me I should sing something by Journey. Oh yeah, because tone-deaf moi could so hit those notes. Right. I’m thinking Lou Reed’s “Take A Walk On The Wild Side” because Lou is basically talking to music in that number.

But if your dog starts howling for no apparent reason Saturday night – whoops, sorry about that. Just wait about three minutes, it’ll stop. And maybe you should have some champagne.

Perhaps They Have The Right Idea

I've come to the conclusion that some people really know what would be best for them, and for society as a whole. Like this gentleman, who writes:

I read your peace on castration.. how does one get it done with you??/ thanks for you information.. clancy

I think I could be completely at peace with Clancy here being castrated. That way he wouldn't breed.

But it sounds messy. Perhaps Clancy should speak to someone who raises livestock...

Wow, this was a busy weekend.

Not half as busy for me as for some people, but busy enough! Miss K and I did attend the women's party Friday night, and lord, was that place packed. A very successful event, I'm pleased it did so well.

Saturday was the SEAF gala and while I opted out, I'm told that was also fabulous.

The other super-cool people in town for the festivities were New York photographer Michele Serchuk and her partner Delano. How to describe Delano in a sentence? Let's see, he's a man who both ties and is tied, he shoots photographs and he is photographed, and he's hot. He also has a sense of humor and a style of patter that is not unlike Monk's. So when Monk told me they they were going to utilize the playroom at The Big House to shoot some rope-video on Sunday afternoon, I make plans to stay home and watch. Especially when Monk said he would volunteer his wrists as a rope-model. Hot boy-on-boy action! Okay, not really, but still.

So check Monk's blog for the official video, although I suspect the out-takes will be the best part, they had me and the crew cracking up laughing half the time. Here's one still I snapped.

Now, there's another, but in this one, even though Delano is a expert rigger, he seems to have gotten a little confused about the proper pathway for the rope. Huh, how'd that happen? Surely an innocent slip of the hemp. Surely. (Yeah, right. Watch for the video.)

You say deviant like it's a bad thing. Study shows that spanking kids makes them more likely to grow up to be kinky.

You've probably seen a link to this story already, it's being widely made fun of by perves. I would just like to note: I was not spanked as a child. My mother was (and still is) a progressive, New-Age, hippie-type. She was in total charge of our childhood discipline, and she certainly didn't believe in anything as retro as spanking. Neither did she allow us to eat processed sugar - which may have cut down on her need to discipline us - or watch TV, or have war toys, like toy guns, et cetera. Because they encouraged aggression.

This, even though my father was actually an officer in the military until I was six. And he collected guns - real ones. He taught my brother and I how to shoot when I was a kid. And didn't my hippie mom have a fit when she came home from her pottery class and found all three of us in the back yard, blasting away at a target on a tree? I was eleven. I'm thinking if she could spanked my dad for that incident, she would have. (I am often amazed they stayed married as long as they did, really - until I was 17.)

So yes, on the one hand, I have New-Age mom, who gave me time-outs when I was bad, or - when I was older - talked to me about disappointed she was in me. On the other, my ex-military dad, for whom guns are a way of showing affection. Right before I moved from Georgia to Seattle, I went to visit my dad out at his place on the beach. We sat on his porch with the ocean breeze on our faces, and got rather drunk together, and then he squinted at me thoughtfully and said, "So you're really driving all the way across country? You should take this." And after some rummaging through cupboards, he gave me a handgun. It was clearly not new, but he showed me that it was in excellent working order.

"This one, you see - this one is not registered to me. Or anyone, really. So, you know, you could just throw it in a lake or something if you had to."

I had to laugh. I love my dad. He certainly seemed rather conservative when I was a kid. (He worked for IBM, for god's sake.) But he has let some stories slip out over the last few years that show me where my outlaw streak comes from. I suspect it's only the tip of the iceberg, and that my dad is actually far more of a outlaw than I will ever know about. I wonder if thinks the same thing about me?

"So, you're telling me I could shoot someone with this and ditch it and it can't be traced to you? That could be handy. Where'd you get it?"

"Took it off some fella we threw out of the bar one night. Back in Florida." (My dad owned a nightclub when I was a little girl, and I'm told the patrons often got rather boisterous.) "It's been sitting in a drawer all this time, you may as well have it."

"I'm really hoping to avoid having to shoot anyone along the way, Daddy, but thank you."

"Well, yeah. I mean, no. I mean, I'm just telling you. Here's, here's a box of ammunition."

So you can say I have a very equally balanced set of parents, neither of whom spanked me. And yet, here I am, a flaming pervert. And quite happy about it, as a matter of fact. So raise your kids how you think is right. Some of them are going to be kinky anyway.

Remarks On Different Topics

READ: I meant to post a link to this writer, Savannah Lee, earlier in the week, and I forgot, because I am thinking about too many things at once. She wrote some good stuff about the “Marry Him” article, and she’s a good writer on any subject, so check her out.

***

KINK: A pal – who is not nearly as sweet and innocent as she looks – wrote me and asked me for help assembling her own Pink Box For Pink Bits. (And no, this has nothing to do with breast cancer.) I told her that in addition to the items mentioned previously, there was a new one: electric toothbrushes. A wonderfully evil man brought some over for Jae and I to play with recently, and when I pressed it on Jae's clit, she just about came off the table. Delightful. I liked alternating the bristle side with the smooth side, and the tip, and so forth. Great fun. 4 out of 5 dominatrixes say you should brush after every orgasm!

***

SHOPPING: If you’re one of my good boys, and you’re going to be in one of the following cities soon, you should talk to me: Ala Moana, HI. Bal Harbour, FL. Beverly Hills, CA. Chicago, IL. Costa Mesa, CA. Las Vegas, NV. New York, NY. Palm Beach, FL. Waikiki, HI.

Why those cities? Because those are the cities that have Chanel Boutiques, and I have decided that I really need one of the Chanel Ultra rings. (Yes, I could call them and order it by phone, but it’s hard to pay cash over the phone. I like cash.)

Speaking of shopping, I really want these shoes. In gold, not pink. Are they not gorgeous? I think gold is my new black.

***

EVENTS: Note to sexy women in the greater Seattle area: The Bang For The Buck party is this Friday night. Miss K wants to go, so we're going to go together. (Although I am not looking, I am just socializing. But if you’re a butch looking for a femme top, I’ll introduce you to Miss K.) It should be a rockin’ party, so I’ll see you there…

Question From A Reader

This may seem like an off question, but would ever consider waterboarding a client? With consent, of course!

You have been very clear on your stance on breath play for obvious reasons; It isn't predictable enough to be safe. In the news we read that waterboarding gives the sensation of drowning with non of the side effects (like visible scars). Politics and the constitution aside - is President Bush the break-through Dom of breath play?

My first instinctive response was: No. And I’m mildly disturbed that someone would even ask.

But perhaps this deserves a longer, more thoughtful answer…. So let me tell you a story. I remember, many years ago, getting into an argument with a co-worker at a strip club. She was a tall girl, and noted for her bad temper and willingness to get physical.

Now, I do not fight. My brother and I scuffled now and then as kids, but other than that, I have no experience of non-consensual hand-to-hand combat. And I myself do not have a hair-trigger temper, of the type that results in unplanned confrontations. Historically, I will walk away from stuff like that. So when Roxy balled up her fists and started cursing at me about stealing her customer, normally I would have just left the dressing room.

However, this was during a period of time when I was bottoming a lot, and doing some pretty physically heavy scenes. And I can recall clearly staring at Roxy, with her eyes all narrowed and her jaw thrust out, looking as mean as she could, and thinking, You skinny bitch, you don’t scare me. What are you gonna do, hit me? Hah. I have been hit by much bigger and stronger women than you lately. Fuck you.

I relayed that last sentiment out loud to Roxy, several times. She raised her fists higher and took a step towards me. Some other person in my head took control of my mouth and said, “Oh, come on, bitch, start something. I’ll punch you right in those silicone tits, pop them like water balloons.”

Part of me thought Jesus, I can’t believe I said that. But I didn’t feel afraid, even though I could feel my heart hammering.

We stood there, fists cocked, and stared at each other for a long moment. Naturally all the other women in the room had fallen silent and were watching us intently.

I have no idea what Roxy saw on my face, but whatever it was, she didn’t like it. She spit out another string of profanity, turned on her platform heel and left the room. And I locked myself in a bathroom stall and put my head between my knees for a little while. I really don’t like angry people.

So the moral of the story is yeah, I do think BDSM can be a way to explore things that would otherwise be hurtful or frightening and thus make them less scary. And the experience of coming through those situations okay can give you a different perspective on real-life scenarios. I can see how someone might find something worthwhile in that.

However, there’s a difference between fistfights and government-sponsored torture. To me, even if waterboarding were safe - which I doubt that it is, who knows how many people have died while undergoing this? - it would be like doing Nazi play. It would be bringing something negative and all-too-real into my dungeon. I don’t want to do that. I don’t even want that hint of negative energy there. That sounds like I’m all spiritual, and I’m actually not, very. But I believe our emotions have power, and I find the idea of doing waterboarding as part of a BDSM scene deeply distasteful. The only break-throughs President Bush has made is in bad leadership of the country. The whole subject is something to be both sad and angry about, not eroticized.

Okay, enough with love and marriage for a few days. Let’s talk about something kinky.

For example, I had another girl join me for a date with Musical Man today, and can I just tell you how truly charming it was to see how excited she got putting sounds into his cock? She’s been happily anticipating this date for days, and she was wiggling and clapping her hands with glee as the moment drew near. Then when she was doing it, this look of profound fascination spread over her face. It was lovely. Musical Man liked it just as much. I was the one who finally had to say, “Okay, kids, I think we should stop now. Yes, I know, you want to keep going, but you’re both totally endorphin-high, so I think my judgment should prevail. You’ve already used a sound big enough to club baby seals with, let’s save something for next time.”

This girl and I have a date with a different man for an entirely different scene later this week. I think my scenes are the most psychologically intense when I’m alone with someone. But for variety, it’s always fun to have friends come over and play. And four hands can certainly do more than two. Co-topping can be challenging, however, so I do not invite just anyone to join me in my play. My boys are very important to me, and I want to create a good experience for them. I have to feel like my girlfriend and my client are going to be in tune, and that their various desires and limits are in accord.

But I am flattered to say that none of the ladies that I have invited have ever declined. One of them paid me a sweet compliment once, saying, “Oh, I totally trust you, Matisse. If you say it’s going to be cool, then I know it’s going to be cool. You wouldn’t let anything happen that wasn’t okay.”

Well. That’s exactly how I want people to feel in my dungeon. Like it's going to be intense, but everything will be all right in the end. I’m glad it’s what I’m creating.

The follow-up to the "Marry Him" post...

So I spent some time trying to edit down all the letters I got into something approaching a reasonable-length blog post...and then, I gave up. Ya'll had a lot to say and I simply could not do it justice. The letters, all eleven thousand and some-odd words of them, can be read here. (Note: I edited out names and anything that might be an identifying detail.)

Many of you agreed with me, although some of you raised some “Yes, but…” points. There were a couple of main themes to these. One was: marriage is about more than sexual passion. Dear readers, I may not be legally married to my partner, but we’ve been partners for almost eight years now, so I’m definitely hip to the fact that long-term domestic partnership is not one unending orgy. Sorry if that dulls your image of me as a sexual outlaw. We have the same trivial mundane shit to deal with, and the same sorts of difficulties and challenges. But my point is that you should start out being in love. You have to have that foundation, because that deep and intense connection is like the lube that gets the two of you through the tight spots in life together.

Another theme: love doesn’t always come in the packages one expects. Oh, lord, am I in agreement with that. Read here, and here, for my previous articles about how Max was not at all what I was expecting, and how I didn't really even believe in being "in love". For starters, he was the wrong gender. (Monk had it easier when I fell for him, since I was much more open to the idea of being all starry-eyed about a guy.) I guess I was taking it for granted that smart people did not sort for life partners based on anything like height or hair color, or even really superficial traits like being allergic to dogs. But if that wasn’t clear, then let me say so: love is what’s important, not the package is comes wrapped in.

Also cited was the desire the author had for children, which I lack. Well, yes, that changes things. But the author already has a child, so it’s not like that’s the cause of her desire for marriage. What she seems to want is more income and assistance with caring for her child.

The fact that since sex is apparently not important, the author could live with another woman was discussed, although I don't think that would satisfy her.

It was mentioned that arranged marriages are still done in other cultures. Yes, they are. I don’t think that recommends them, but that’s neither here nor there, since that’s not what Ms. Gottlieb is talking about. She’s talking about acting as if she’s marrying for love, but without really being in love.

Life doesn’t always turn out like you thought. I find that trying to force it to match your expectations usually doesn’t work so well. I think one of the keys to happiness in life is learning to see the path the universe is laying out for you. And I think part of everyone's path is learning to love deeply and fully. I know that's a scary idea, since love makes us vulnerable. But I don't think that lesson is optional.

Wow. I'm not the only girl with an opinion about the "Marry Him" article. I have gotten over fifty emails, amounting to about ten thousand words, on the subject of marriage and "settling". I'm going to have to boil this down a bit, but look for a follow-up post either over the weekend or on Monday.

I wonder if Ms. Gottlieb would debate me? Probably not, huh? Too bad. There are actually several people who write about sex, relationships, and sex work with whom I'd like to have - shall we say - a spirited discussion. I doubt that I ever will. But it's occasionally amusing to think about what I'd say.

So, here’s the new column. This post won’t make much sense until you read both the article that inspired the column and then the column itself, so go do that and then come back.

Done? Yeah. Is that unbelievable or what? I read it ten days ago and I was so incensed by it that I spent several days ranting about it to anyone who would listen. It's been killing me not to say anything about it sooner.

I’m going to exercise a lot of self-discipline here and not talk about my impressions of the author as a person. I can’t say I think I’d like her, based on what she said in this piece. But I am aware that there’s no way you can really know what a person is like based on just an article. People who just read a few pieces I’ve written don’t really know me, they only know the carefully-crafted slice I present to them. Plus I’m guessing she wouldn’t instantly take to me, either. I doubt it’ll be an issue in either of our lives.

And I try not to be nasty about other writer’s talent, or their lack thereof, because I know how it feels to have people knock my writing. But – this particular piece is not well-written. It’s like a first draft, way too long and repetitive. Frankly, it reads like a blog post – something where she just sat down at the keyboard, rambled about some feelings she was having, and hit Send. That’s okay for blogging, but for a magazine like The Atlantic? Um, no. Did she not have an editor for this piece?

I'm not saying you can't find anyone who'd agree with her. But for someone who admits she's making a sure-to-be-unpopular statement, her points are not well-argued. There’s just so much wrong with the reasoning and rationales of this nationally-published article that I’m just… blown away. I could pull quote after quote from the piece that display the author’s poor judgment and lack of personal insight, but I think it unfortunately speaks for itself.

The worst idea was publishing this piece to begin with. I cannot state too strongly my opinion that Ms. Gottlieb will be lucky if any man is ever willing to even go to dinner with her ever again, so thoroughly has she sown the ground with salt here. Trust me on this – the male of the species does not respond well to seeing themselves roasted in print. The hurt feelings of my dear and favored boys is the reason I have mainly stopped doing the Silly Phone Calls posts. Even though they knew that they were not the actual people I was teasing, there was an ever-increasing chorus of “Hey, I though you liked me!”

I do, I said. It’s not you I’m making fun of. You don’t say those witless things to me. It’s that dumb guy over there.

Didn’t help. And that’s guys having a BDSM relationship. Ms. Gottlieb wants some guy to marry her and help support her child after she refers to them collectively as "damaged goods"? Never. Gonna. Happen.

But whatever. If the author wishes to handicap herself in a race she’s already declared almost impossible to win, well, that’s not my dog. What really pisses me off is the lack of responsibility here. There's a difference between saying, "Here's my personal experience," and "Young women, listen to me and heed my words! Here's what you should do!" If you’re going to publish a call to action like this, you better be pretty damn sure what you’re advising people to do is right for everyone, all the time. Somewhere, a woman is going to read this, and based at least in part on the advice of Ms. Gottlieb, she’s going to marry a guy she’s not in love with. And that’s going to be a bad choice on her part. Now the fault will mostly be hers, because that’s how grown-up life works, but Ms. Gottlieb will actually have some fraction of blame for that in my eyes.

It’s like breath-control play. It is my strong opinion that cutting off someone’s oxygen is a bad idea. Do I know people who have done breath-control play and not died? (Yet.) Yes, I do. Does that stop me from telling people they should refrain from this kink? Nope, because if I said “Oh, breath-control play can be okay sometimes,” and someone read that, and did it, and died – I’d feel I had some moral responsibility for their death. If I can keep anyone from having a tragic accident, I’d be really happy.

So I will say it again: don’t marry someone you’re not in love with. It will cut off the air to some vital part of your soul, and it will wither and die.

***

Note: I’ve had some interesting conversations about this piece with friends, so if you have opinions on this piece (or my thoughts on it) that you’d like me to publish, send them to me in an email in the next 48 hours or so. I’ll compile them in a follow-up blog piece.