Making the Team

Congratulations are in order!

I made the team!

Coach Fifty pulled me off of the bench and played me today…

I haven’t mentioned Coach previously, have I?  You didn’t even realize I was athletic did you?

Coach Fifty:  I call him this as I see him beginning to morph from a dirty Vanilla type to a more exacting Dominant.  And since Fifty Shades is a bedtime story compared to my BDSM activities, we will call him Coach Fifty for now…the man is on his way.

So who is this Coach Fifty?

We met when we were both in a relationship crisis, and we were “there” for each other.  It’s been a reciprocal “friend with benefit thing” that’s lasted for about 10 years.  We don’t see each other often.  We are not in contact often, but we always come together when the time is right.

And the time was right…

We have been trying to get together for several weeks now.  Both of us are workaholics, so it makes it challenging.  But we managed to get our schedules aligned.  And no matter how well we plan, we always end up meeting in a very spontaneous manner:

11:05, Thursday morning

Coach:  Hey sexy.  Where are you?

Me: Just finishing up some reports.

Coach:  I may have to reschedule our time together today at 1:30.  Sorry babe

Me:  Really?  Again?  Okay.  I get it.  When are you thinking?

Coach:  How does NOW look for you?

Me: Now?

Coach:  Twenty minutes tops…Have the door unlocked.  And get yourself ready.  I am on the way.

I noticed a bit of bossiness in his text.  He had always been direct.  We had always been very honest and open with each other, but this had a different feel to it.

I liked it…

I heard him arrive.  He saw himself in and immediately came to me.  Coach has a way about him.  He always greets me by holding my face and planting a hot kiss on my lips to get the mood started.  But afterwards, he did something different.

He put his hands on my shoulders and gently eased me down to my knees.  And then he said in a deeper tone, “You know what to do”

I was immediately turned on by his new assertiveness.

He stroked my hair as I quickly went to work.  “That’s a good girl.”

He pulled me up and pulled my dress off in one fair swoop of his hands….

We moved to the bed and he eagerly reciprocated the work I’d done in the dining room.  And then he flipped me over on my stomach.

“You have been a bad girl, haven’t you?”  he growled.

I immediately went into my submissive self.  “Yes Sir I have”

“Well, I am not going to stand for that” he quipped.

And with that, he smacked my bare ass hard.  With an open hand.

Very good for a Vanilla amateur.

I realized as he continued to smack my ass…

I had created a monster.

Just the kind of monster I like

We continued playing.  He held a strong offensive line to my defensive strategies.  Overall he scored multiple touchdowns and always…always…always scored the “extra point”.

There were a couple of minor penalties.  In this game instead of causing a loss of field position, penalties were further punishment for me.

What a great game…

He definitely brought a solid showing on special teams….literally scoring on punt returns many times over.

Coach Fifty just ran all over me.  He is such a good player.

It seemed like a complete shutout, until at the end I was able to go off-sides and score the touchdown I needed to score on him.

And I even got a two-point conversion to close it out.

The Fifty in his name may have another meaning…as many points as he scored on me.

The game we played reminds me of a song: 

“Put me in Coach.  I’m ready to play.  Today”

And yes, the song is about baseball, not football.  Who cares which sport it’s about?

A good coach will always tell you the most important thing is “how you play the game.”

Well-played, Coach F.  Well-played.

 

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These are not the droids you are looking for…

Obi Wan Kenobi was a veritable genius…

“These are NOT the droids you are looking for…”

No wiser words have ever been spoken.

I have come to a real conclusion.  These Vanilla dates are indeed, NOT the droids I’m looking for.

Mr. Bond tells me that I am wasting my time on “Vanilla” dating sites.

“They cannot give you what you seek.”

Henry Hill waits to hear of the adventures, for the “I told you so” moment.

And yet, I continue to look.

Why?  Why do I waste my time?  Why do I put myself through the turmoil?

Introspectively, I think it’s a bit of a distraction for me.  Fun and entertaining.

And it’s because I think the blend exists.  I would love to find the perfect man.

The one I can bring home to family for Christmas dinner…that later that evening, breaks off a limb from the Christmas tree and flogs me senseless.  Ties me up with Christmas ribbon.  Puts his new riding crop in my stocking. 

Now that’s the gift that keeps on giving…sigh

Back to the story…

So after another painful Vanilla date, I find myself drifting, looking at the situation as an outsider looking in.

We sit across a table from each other…sharing small talk and a meal.

He thinks I am a sweet, virtuous single mother of three who works hard and seeks someone to share my life.

I think he is a broken man who is distrusting of women, because they have all “done him wrong” and looks for someone to save the day…by making himher hero.

I can tell 15 minutes (let’s be honest, 15 seconds) into the date that he’s not worth my time.

He is pure vanilla…it’s seeping from his pores.

I feel like a kitten playing with a ball of yarn, as he has no idea what lurks beneath my sweet exterior.

As we say down South, “Bless his heart.”

I try to lead him into conversation that would give me an indication of whether he has “it in him” at all.

It’s obvious he doesn’t.  But I give it the college try and take him on a test drive.

On this drive we visit the town of Mayberry and get a big scoop of vanilla at the local ice cream parlor.

Plain vanilla.

Now, he LOVED the drive.  It took him to places he had never experienced on the way to good ole Mayberry.  For me, it was neither about the journey or the destination.  It was two hours out of my life that could have been better spent researching cell popping and branding.

Because that’s what I am in to…

It’s obvious to me that I have crossed over.  I cannot do Vanilla of any sort, any longer.

Bond is right…waste of my time.

Henry Hill is right…it always ends badly.

It’s official.

Obi Wan, I choose the Dark Side.

 

 

 

 

 

Goodfellas….

So I’ve made it clear that I am not a huge fan of the online dating scene. Yet I keep coming back….
In fact, this is not my first rodeo. If you will recall a few months back, I registered on this same dating site and met: Sir, Dr. Pierce and Henry Hill.
Who is Henry, you ask?
If you will recall the movie, Goodfellas, Henry Hill was played by Ray Liotta.
Now ladies, I don’t know if you have the same taste as me, but I have dark and brooding thoughts of Ray Liotta. He just has a swagger about him. A look about him. A way about him.

Henry has his eyes….
We began talking immediately after I posted my profile the first time.
Henry is charming and engaging. He is quick-witted with my same biting sense of humor.
He also possesses a crass way that I find endearing.

And Henry proudly calls himself, Vanilla.

So you’re asking…vanilla again, what gives?  I mean aren’t you on a journey here?

I am on a journey.

And I can freely be myself with Henry.  He does not judge.

Although he will be the first to say, I told you so…

And we have had some encounters together, but the stars have yet to align for me to fully appreciate his flavor of vanilla.  We have yet to seal the deal.

Our time is coming.

Ok…so you’re left scratching your noggin and you’re wondering…did she fall and bump her head?  Has one of her Dom’s tied her too tight and she’s lost her sense?

Why is she dishing on a dish she’s not even had yet?  A vanilla dish?

I speak of Henry Hill because of who he is to me.  Henry and I truly get one another.  It’s almost creepy in a “Hey, I’m a serial killer….really???….I am a serial killer, too” way.

Disclaimer:  Neither Mr. Hill, nor myself, are serial killers.  Just a figure of speech to illustrate my point. 

We had lunch the other day and we discussed my journey.  I confided in him some of my fears…

Me afraid?  And me…admitting that I am afraid?

Who is this person….the blog has been hijacked!  

I confided in Henry that I felt a new sense of freedom, of awareness through my experiences.  I felt as though I was no longer hiding who I was.  But with the freedom comes the fear of uncertainty.  I knew who I was before.  I knew how to hide.  Now that I have been enlightened, what do I do?

I went on to say, that in order to experience that level of freedom, I worried that I would have to “up the ante” in each session.  Push more limits.

His reply, “So you found freedom in experiencing the fear, but now you fear the freedom?”

YES!!!! YES!!!!!  Nailed it in a nutshell.  Right out of the gate.

Hearing it put that way, put it into perspective for me.

How does he do that?

He does that because he’s Henry-freakin-Hill and he knows his game.  Perfect blend of intelligence with street smarts and swagger.

What a Goodfella….

Looking forward to the stars aligning….

No Country for Old Men

billy-the-kid

I think we’ve established that I am always up for an adventure.

I find the online dating scene a bit tedious.  After all, I’ve been on a search for a very specific person for a long time.  It’s strange for me to open up to the vanilla possibilities out there.  After all, if I meet someone, how do I explain that I have a Dom in my life?  I mean how do you have that conversation.  I can see it now….

Over a lovely, contrived candlelight dinner in an upscale restaurant, we exchange niceties.

“How long have you lived in the area?”

“Tell me about your job”

“What do you like to do for fun?” (Dangerous ground for me…I like being tied and blindfolded. Add in a knife for kicks)

And as the night goes on we become more comfortable…

“When is the last time you were in a relationship?”

Some will be so bold as to ask, “What happened with your last relationship?”

How do I answer that?  How do I have the conversation?

Let’s rehearse, shall we…

“I am actually in a non-traditional relationship now.  It’s open, so I am free to date others.”

That will open the flood gates for a barrage of questions….

Or maybe I could say, “I am not interested in a serious relationship, I am seeing others.  I don’t seek a commitment”

That is code-word for:  tramp, slut, cheater, harlot and I just want sex from you….

So how do I do this?

Well before I could figure out my 5 minute elevator speech, I met an interesting young gentleman online.  We messaged and texted for a while and decided to chat on the phone for a bit.

Two hours later, I invited him over.

I know, I know….I sometimes lack judgment, but I have great intuition.  And he was harmless…

He was a very intelligent, witty, handsome fella…who was working on his postgraduate degree and had just been accepted into Harvard.

I am a sucker for the genius type.

And he was 26 years old.  Not a typo…two-six, Roman numerals….XXVI (gosh, it really looks better written that way)

Yes, TWENTY-SIX.

He was born the year Dirty Dancing was released….

The year Milli Vanilla began recording their farce of an album…

The year I got my driver’s license. (If that’s not a REALITY CHECK.)

And yes, he was here.  In my house….drinking wine and dishing on philosophy.

I had NEVER in my career of relationships ever been with anyone younger that myself.

NEVER.

EVER.

So here I am with this young gun.  A young gun who could hold his own in conversation and was far more mature than many of the forty-somethings I had dated.  Wow…what to do?

So I had the conversation.  He was an adult, after all (barely).  I told him about Bond and my journey.

He didn’t even flinch.  He maintained eye contact and asked great questions.

No judgment at all from him.  He didn’t run out the front door.

So we dished for hours…

Waxed poetic on my leather sofa.  Here’s a twist…nothing else happened.

And like the gentleman he was, he excused himself around 3:00 am.  On his way out he gave me an intense kiss goodnight.

This kid has some skills.

But the next night was a different story.  We agreed that he would come over for a “play-date”

Knowing what I was “in” to, I received a text late in the evening:

“When I get there I want you on the stairs with nothing on but heels and a smile, got it?

I was impressed, but I feel it’s time for me to pull a switch.

Switch:  A person in the BDSM lifestyle who can play either role, Top or bottom, Dominant or submissive.

It was time for me to channel my inner-Domme.

He arrived exactly on time, with a bottle of wine.  His mother obviously raised him right.  You always bring a hostess gift.

I greeted him in a dress and the heels he requested.

We shared a glass of wine and it was ON.

And since I give all of my guys a name for the blog,  he is Billy the Kid.

He is a renegade.  And sometimes wears a cowboy hat.

I won’t divulge all of the details, but we had a fantastic time.  I loved splashing about in the fountain of youth.

I was in the zone.  I was in control for a change and I REALLY enjoyed it.

My inner-Domme eagerly came out to play.

He knows a lot for his limited years on this earth.  But the young gun still has much to learn from an experienced teacher.

Billy is definitely going to be a regular…

Just the dish I was searching for….

To be continued.

 

Ordering Off of the Menu

I have gone to the extreme in my quest to find submission.  This search consumes a great deal of energy.  And truly, there are days that I just want the dish of vanilla.  Simplicity.

Just a regular guy.

Not a Boy Scout or Cowboy.

Not a pierced doctor or Sunday school teacher.

Not a daddy.

Just a guy…for just a girl.

Let me be clear….I am not giving up Mr.Bond, just looking to supplement.

And there are so many flavors out there.

It’s a proverbial buffet of personalities.

And as I’ve established, they ALL fly a freak flag in some way.

Now I must navigate this abyss of online dating to determine what exactly I am hungry for…

It’s honestly like perusing the 12 page menu at TGI Fridays.

There are so many choices, it’s overwhelming and you find yourself making some rash decision simply because the waitress is on her third trip to your table.

Everyone else has made a decision.  Why can’t you?

So you pick something….

And you place your order.  Without special modifications.  After all, it was an impulse decision.

You order comes out and you think….

WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING?

I don’t want this!  Not even appetizing at all.

It’s identical with online dating.

It’s like a cheap buffet.  And you feel in control because you choose to “order off of the menu” instead.

The websites trick you  into thinking you are making an informed choice, by providing you with affirmations like, “85% match”

Sometimes you are lucky and what you are served hits the spot.  Yes, it was an impulse decision, but a good one.

And then there are times that you place the order, knowing it’s going to be bad.

You try it anyway, thinking that after you taste it, you may like it.

Just not good.

Not what you wanted.

So how do you know what to order off of the menu in the buffet of online dating.

There are certain red flags in the description that let you know to run in the other direction.

For example, if the person’s screen name is “I-am-the-one” or “together-4ever” or “nxt-husband”

Run for the hills…and consider yourself warned.  If you heed this advice, consider yourself lucky.

If they have anything sexually explicit in their screen name, “hard-4-u” or “cum-2-c-me” you know what you are ordering.

Seriously? How crass…Isn’t there another website for such pseudonyms?

There are those that are funny.  Some are goofy, “cuddly-n-cute” or “laughaminute”

And you have to ask yourself, “do I want to spend an evening with a frustrated, undiscovered stand-up comedian?”

Do you want to force yourself to laugh at his jokes?

So it comes down to this…you get what you get, whether you line up at the buffet for what’s being offered to you.

Or if you order specifically off of the menu.

It’s all the same.  It’s all food.

Hopefully it will satisfy both your taste and your appetite.

Bon appetit, mes amis!

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