Erica Scott: Life, Love and Spanking

Ruminations, opinionated observations, darkly humorous blathering and the occasional rant from an outspoken spanko and unapologetic attention wh–, um, hog.

Archive for the category “rambling”

So anyway…

I feel like I want to write something here, even though I’m not sure what that is. I used to think I had to have something special, something of interest or intrigue, to post, but perhaps this blog can also be a place for me to ramble.

I miss playing. I really do. No, it’s not physically essentially like air, food and water. But it is emotionally essential. It’s a part of my makeup. Even when times are funky and I’m down, the cravings come when I least expect them.

People ask, “Isn’t there anyone available to play with you?” That’s not the question. It’s more like “with whom I want to play.” Because despite my neediness, I still prefer quality. I would rather go without than settle for an experience that doesn’t fulfill me. That’s the weird dichotomy of spanking, for me. The good ones can be so rich, so intensely wonderful and memorable in every way. But the not-so-hot ones? They are almost repulsive. It’s like having sex with someone you’re not drawn to. Why would you? Just for the sensation of being screwed? I’ll never want sex — or spanking — that much.

And, unfortunately due to circumstances of recent times, I do not feel safe or comfortable seeking what I need. Because the last time I admitted to neediness, to vulnerability, it bit me in the ass. Not in a fun, sexy way, either. So even though there are those I would indeed enjoying seeing for some play, I will not be the one to ask.

Regarding the party at the end of February… because I know how the gossip train is in this scene, I figured my hesitation about it would get back to the host, and his feelings would be hurt, which I do not want. So I headed things off at the pass and wrote him a long message, explaining what was going on with me and that my desire to withdraw from everything had absolutely nothing to do with him and I loved him dearly. He wrote back to me with such sweet words, I wept. I am a treasured friend and the party wouldn’t be the same without me. That he really wants me to be there, so please, please come.

So. I booked our room. That has to be done in advance. As for the rest, I have a month and a half to think about it. Everyone says I should go. Part of me wants to, so much. But the ugly, bleak voice within that seems to have taken over in recent weeks keeps saying no.

What else am I thinking about… oh, just random stuff. Like, remember I mentioned watching the Twilight Zone marathon over New Year’s? We happened to catch “It’s a Good Life.” Y’all know that one, don’t you? It’s the classic about the town that is being held hostage by a monstrous child, six-year-old Anthony Fremont? A child with too much power, but a complete dearth of empathy or caring? Who hates everyone who doesn’t like him, eliminates necessary things simply because he doesn’t care for them? Just one tiny little man-child, running the town according to his whims, making everyone suffer.

I was especially remembering the part where the party guest gets drunk and loses it, pleading tearfully to the others in the room to please, PLEASE, somebody, grab something heavy when he’s not looking and lay it across his skull, and end this once and for all?? Of course, no one did, but they all wanted to. The poor guy died for his outburst. And then for good measure, the little bastard changed the weather so it would ruin all the crops.

Why am I thinking about this so much? Eh, no particular reason…

Have a great weekend, y’all.

Social media, spankos, and me

It’s not secret that I’m a bit of a social media addict. I currently have nearly 15,000 tweets on Twitter (I’m not proud of this, BTW). I enjoy Twitter; it’s a fun way to stay connected with everything that’s going on, and I’ve made some interesting friends on there. I stay out of the flame wars and enjoy the hashtag games. But of course, it’s limited. You can’t exactly be profound in 140 characters. And oftentimes, as I’ve said before, it feels like the 21st-century techno version of talking to yourself.

Then there’s Facebook. Vanilla land, although there are many spankos on there. I straddle two fences there. I use Erica Scott, as I do pretty much everywhere. But because I have many vanilla friends on there, or spanko friends under their vanilla names, I avoid spanking talk and photos. Oh, there’s hinting and playing at it. But I’m discreet. What do I like about FB? I love to play Scrabble and Words With Friends. I like looking at my friends’ pictures. I’m a sucker for all the cute animal videos. I like keeping up with the authors of spanking e-books, as I copy-edit several of them. But I can only hang around there so often. The political and religious stuff is hot and heavy there and I find myself getting angry. I realize that underneath my anger is a lot of fear over what the hell is happening to us and what’s going to happen, but I can’t fix that and immersing myself in it is not good for me and my depressive tendencies.

Aaaaand then there’s FetLife. From which I’m still deactivated, and have been for about a month now. It feels a little strange, like there’s a hole in my online life. But I feel like in many ways, going there was like beating a dead horse. It simply wasn’t what it used to be: a fun place to connect with all my kinky friends, talk about spanking, share thoughts and fantasies and memories, make new friends. FetLife currently has millions of members; I was member number 16,919. So we go way back.

There’s a lot I don’t miss on FetLife. For example:

  1. “[Our party] is the best/most well attended/most inclusive party and has the most cool kids and spanking models!” “No, [party B] is!” “No, [party C] is!” “[Your party] sucks!” “No, yours does!” “No, yours!” “You suck!” “No, you do!”
  2. Dick pics, twat shots and wide-open back door pictures where you can practically count the feet of intestines.
  3. Endless pontificating from the handful of “experts” who could post the Gettysburg Address and have it land on Kinky and Popular.
  4. Stuff like “[A well-known top] is awesome, and if you don’t like him, then fuck you!” Worship of false idols.
  5. The never-ending barrage of accusations — an almost daily report of whose consent got violated. There was an epic flame war over a woman who claimed her consent was violated at a private spanking party. Why? Because the host jokingly referred to her as “naughty.” I kid you not. This one did this, this one said that… and the result is when someone really is raped/violated, it’s not taken seriously.
  6. Inappropriate comments and insults on women’s pictures. I say “women” because I honestly haven’t seen them on men’s photos, but I’m sure those exist too. Treating the spanking models like they’re sexy life-sized dolls there for your entertainment, rather than like the real people they are.
  7. “Which celebrity would you like to spank/be spanked by?” “What’s your favorite implement/position/word for bottom?” “Is spanking sexual?” being brought up and discussed for the 11,527th time in a new thread.
  8. Flaming, bullying and sock puppetry. So many fakes that one never really knows who and what is real.

Oh, but… I do miss things too. Such as:

  1. The way the community could band together when someone is in need. A couple of years ago, a beloved long-time member of the scene had a massive heart attack and nearly died. He was incapacitated and couldn’t pay a lot of his immediate bills. A GoFundMe (or something similar, I can’t recall for sure) was organized for him, with a goal of $10,000. That was surpassed in just two days. I think they ended up with about $17,000 for him. Another member had serious complications with a high-risk pregnancy and ended up giving birth prematurely — she too nearly died. A collection was taken up for her as well.
  2. Fun, silly, playful stuff, friends enjoying each other. One of my favorites: when our friend Piper was “grounded” from FetLife and a bunch of us were pleading with her top to “free” her and let her come back. Some of us even taped little videos of our pleas, including yours truly. I actually sang.
  3. Post-party discussions about our favorite memories.
  4. My wall filled with greetings on my birthday.
  5. Unexpected messages/comments that brightened my day.
  6. Connecting with my friends and feeling “a part of.” Right now, I feel disconnected and sad. I feel unmissed and insignificant. But then again, they are probably feeling like I abandoned them. I read a depressing meme on Facebook recently: Something along the lines of “If your disappearance didn’t affect your friends’ lives, then your existence probably didn’t either.” Ugh. Not what I needed to see.

So where does one go to connect online with other kinksters? Is that a place that simply doesn’t exist anymore? Is it all about photos and hookups and parties and little else? Part of me wants to go back to FetLife; another part says, “Why?” I know I don’t want to just yet, not when the national party season is in full swing. I’m not going to any of them and I don’t need to read about them.

It’s all part of the “where do I go from here” thing I’ve been dealing with. I had a sense of belonging for a very long time, something I spent most of my life without. Now, I am questioning where I belong. With John, of course. With Steve. In video archives. But where else? That’s a rhetorical question — I’m not expecting any answers. The spanking community is and has been important to me for a long time, and I want to continue to be a part of it, to contribute to it. I’m just not sure how.

Anyway. Enough of this meandering. I have to go get a pedicure. Tomorrow, I’m going with John to his high school’s 40-year reunion and he wants to show off his “hot girlfriend.” (Looking at my sloppy self at the moment and thinking “WTF??”). I don’t think he needs me there, really. He has a good job, a good career, two residences, and will probably be the only guy there who is still fit and trim and has hair. But what the hell… it’s just a couple of hours. I won’t know anyone there, but I’ll smile and nod and fake my way through it. Like I did for years and years at his family events, of which we have been relieved, thank you very much. And I’ll get to go home with the best guy there. ♥

Have a great weekend, y’all.

So it’s come to this…

I have nothing to say. Work is slow, life is slow, nothing exciting coming up, slogging through holiday sludge for the next few weeks. Complete writer’s block. How sad.

I guess I could change the name of this blog to “Life, Love, Spanking and Utterly Boring Minutiae.” But that’s no fun to read.

I could find something to rant about, but honestly, I don’t feel like it. Too much negativity around lately.

So, when at a loss, the only thing left to do is post nekkid pictures.

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So here you go — me, with the other John I love watching over me. 🙂

Have a great weekend, y’all.

Monday morning ramblings

Not sure where I’m going with this, so just ride along with me if you will. I’m a bit scattered and my thoughts are going off in various directions.

As is often the case, I remain baffled by some of the ad replies I’m receiving. Not the CHoS types; I know what to do with those. I mean the ones that mystify in other ways. The ones that clearly have nothing to do with my ad(s). Or perhaps the ones that show interest, then back off when I show interest in return.

Recently I was contacted on FetLife by a local gentleman, a switch, who was quite articulate and interesting. He and I differed greatly on our ideas of bottoming and I hesitated to give any of my thoughts for fear of offending him, but he assured me that he would not take offense. We exchanged a few messages; he asked me if I might be a submissive, just not a masochist, and I said I do not identify with being a submissive because I’m too feisty. I can submit, but it has to be earned, and I liked tops who enjoyed and could work off a bit of witty provocation.

He wrote back, said I was a SAM, and any bottom who provoked him would end up in the corner with soap in her mouth, watching him spank someone else. Ouch. I wrote once again, saying I hadn’t intended to sound arrogant; that I don’t endeavor to seriously annoy anyone, I just like to be a bit playful, and this stuff is supposed to be fun, right? My message was earnest and completely non-snotty.

Never heard back.

Someone on Alt.com “winked” at me, so I thanked him for it. He wrote me a note, saying he’d like to talk, that he found me intriguing.

Intriguing. I hear that a lot. I’m not sure why, though.

Intrigue: to arouse the curiosity or interest of by unusual, new, or otherwise fascinating or compelling qualities; appeal strongly to; captivate

Am I really that unusual? That much of a curiosity? Why?

Anyway, I wrote back, asking what he found intriguing and would he like to tell me about himself.

Never heard back.

Same day, I got a message from a man with “daddy” in his screen name. Said he found me “interesting” and “complicated” and would love to talk. I looked up his profile; in it, he stressed how any partner of his must be into daddy/daughter play. I clearly state in my profile that I’m not looking for daddies or masters.

I replied, “Interesting, maybe. Complicated, definitely. And definitely not into anything to do with the daddy/daughter dynamic — sorry.”

Wait, there’s more. One more message, this time from a young couple, saying they read my profile and preferences and they’d love to play. Looked them up; they’re swingers, she’s bisexual, they’re seeking sex partners. Ummm… they read my profile? I don’t think so. Why do they even bother?

I’m just blowing off a little here; I know there aren’t any answers. I simply wonder about people sometimes, what motivates them, what they’re thinking. And if there’s something I’m doing or saying that draws them.

However, in the midst of all this, I did get one reply that might actually have some promise. Don’t want to say too much right now, as I’m afraid I’ll jinx it. We’ll see.

It was a strange weekend. J was very sweet, took me to a special dinner, but I could tell he was off his game. I think I might have told you that he finally, finally had a physical a couple of months ago, after my getting on his case about it. He asked the doc about why he’s so exhausted all the time. Well, duh… he barely sleeps. Not only because he works ungodly hours, but he has arthritis in his back and he can’t lie comfortably for more than a couple of hours, so he almost never gets any decent rest. She told him to start taking Tylenol, arthritis strength, at night before bed, so he could sleep better, because sleep deprivation is one of the reasons he gets sick all the time.

Did he buy any Tylenol? Nooooooo. The man is completely averse to taking any kind of medication. He has to be practically dying before he’ll take an aspirin.

So this weekend, I could tell he was in pain. I’d catch him wincing when he didn’t know I was looking. He couldn’t sit still. He thrashed around in his sleep. And by Sunday morning, he could barely move. That did it. I said, we’re going to Rite-Aid before we go to brunch and buying you some Tylenol, and you’re taking it. He didn’t argue. When J doesn’t argue, you know he’s in dire straits.

As soon as we arrived at the restaurant, I opened the bottle and took out two tablets, pushed them over to him. He hedged. “Don’t I have to eat first?” “No… not with Tylenol.” “Why do I have to take two?” “Two is the dose.” “What if just one works?” “I don’t care. Take both of them.” “But…” “TAKE THEM.”

He did. And as brunch progressed, I could see the transition… the glazed, pinched look left his face, his eyes took on their usual sparkle, he ate all his food and was back to his silly, jokey self. He sheepishly admitted that at the moment, his back was pain-free. Why did things have to get so far before he’d take those damn pills? What’s up with that? Is it a guy thing, or a J thing?

He teased me, said, “You’re going to make my life hell now, aren’t you, nagging me to take Tylenol?” Damn straight, honey.

Is this what getting older looks like? Ugh, ugh, ugh. Yeah, the age thing is on my mind this week, for obvious reasons.

J was so very kind — he gave me two books. I opened one of them, and found a sum of cash, crisp new bills, tucked into the end flap. He knew I’ve been worried about money… I started to cry. He also tucked several rolls of quarters into my suitcase, knowing I use them for laundry. What am I going to do with this man? This stubborn, wonderful, thoughtful, loving and maddening man? He makes my heart explode, truly he does.

Told you I was rambling and all over the place. I think I need to go work out.

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