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 “relationships”

The ephemeral nature of kink intimacy: Can it be real?

And if it can, how do you know when it is?

ephemeral

[ ih-fem-er-uhl ]SHOW IPA

adjective

lasting a very short time; short-lived; transitory:

the ephemeral joys of childhood.

 

lasting but one day:
an ephemeral flower.

 

(Why do you show off so damn much with your million-dollar words, Erica?) I can’t help it. I like them. But you can’t complain if I provide the definition, right?

37k83l

Note: I’m aware that many of my readers are married to or monogamously involved with their spankers, and don’t play with others. This post is more for those who do play with others, whether or not they have a primary relationship… a situation that can be a lot more confusing. Leave it to me to choose the more complicated route.

According to general societal patterns (you know, those “normal” people), here’s the blueprint: Couples meet, however they meet. They exchange names. They talk, share basic information. In the course of a few hours, a few phone calls, a few dates, whatever, they learn more about one another. Preferences of all kinds. Music/book/movie tastes. Political leanings. Fears. Hopes. Dreams. Failures. The jigsaw puzzle of personality gets filled in, a piece at a time. In the course of this time, there are physical exchanges, often starting with kisses. Then a little more, and a little more, until we have full-on sexual intimacy.

Now we kinksters, we do everything ass backwards (word play intended). Oftentimes, basic vetting aside, we play first and ask questions later. We have physical intimacy first. Instead of that slow burn of growing attracted to one another as we learn more, we burn hot from the get-go, act on chemistry over personal knowledge, invite others into our homes, our beds, our bodies, our playrooms, etc. before we’ve even begun to invite them into our hearts or our day-to-day lives. Oftentimes, that last part doesn’t happen.

Personally, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. It’s kind of hot. If I wanted to go the traditional route, I would have. I tried it for many years. It’s overrated.

Funny and perfect case in point: When D came over a few weeks ago, we’d met only once, and briefly. Essentially, I brought a strange man into my home, my space. I felt completely okay with that. We played. We had intense and close-up contact. I laid myself out, physically and emotionally. He inflicted both pain and pleasure. He saw me raw and open, exposed.

Afterward, when I was lying on the couch bare-ass naked with him massaging lotion into me, I dreamily turned my head and asked, “What’s your last name?”

He told me. I told him mine. And the massage continued.

I’ve been doing this for so long, this feels perfectly normal. But I know there are tons of people out there who would be shocked at the idea of someone seeing their bare ass (not to mention exposed genitalia) before said someone learns their full, real name.

This is what I call “pseudo-intimacy.” It’s an intimacy quickly forged out of a strong cocktail of physical attraction and a shared desire, a common bond of kink. But is it real intimacy — whatever the hell that is? And if it isn’t, can it become so? When does a play partnership cross over into a real friendship, a relationship of sorts, where people care about one another?

Most of you know the story of how John and I met. I placed an ad; he answered it. We chatted once on the phone. And then we met for coffee. We talked at Starbucks until they closed, then went for a walk. He ended up pulling me over his leg in the alley behind Starbucks and spanking me, until we heard the telltale jingle of a leash and a man appeared, walking his dog (and getting quite the eyeful). We then proceeded to John’s vehicle where he spanked me some more, gave me an orgasm, and he took my panties, claiming I’d have to see him again if I wanted them back.

This is not your typical “first date.” We were both seeing other people at the time.

Cut to the present — on August 30, we’ll be together 23 years. Somehow, that initial pseudo-intimacy became real, blossomed into something much fuller. It can happen.

But it’s complicated. Because of the nature of what we do, it’s easy to confuse pseudo-intimacy for something real. It’s easy to fall for the actions, thinking you’re falling for the person. When in fact you really don’t know them at all.

I remember my very first spanker. Saw him a total of three times, played twice. Paul. I never did learn his last name. But he changed my life. In one afternoon, in the time span of no more than an hour, he put me on a path of no return, opened me to a vast new world to explore and experience. That first spanking meant more to me than losing my virginity did.

At the time, I remember feeling like I’d fallen in love with Paul. But even then, in my haze of hormones and endorphins and wonder, I knew that wasn’t it. Of course I wasn’t in love with him. I was in love with what he gave me. But of course, sometimes, when your emotions get involved, it’s hard to compartmentalize it like that. The boundaries blur. Your mind says one thing, your body says another, and your heart says yet another.

No wonder so many scene relationships go sideways.

I have been thinking back on some of my play partnerships over the years, many of which have been chronicled in my blogs. All the time I’ve been with John, I’ve played with other men, all with his blessing. I am lucky that way. A lot of these partnerships simply faded away, due to various life circumstances. A couple, I really regret losing. Two come to mind that did indeed blossom into real friendship, much more than just the physical act of getting together to play.

Danny Chrighton and I were play partners for over three years. But we were also the best of friends. We didn’t just play. We hung out. We did stuff together. He and John were buddies. Our play chemistry was awesome, but beyond that, our closeness was true. He knew me, and I knew him. There was mutual trust and respect. And the only thing that ended it was distance, when he moved out of state. I loved him. I still do. I miss what we had, to this day, even though I haven’t seen him in years.

Then there was ST. Same deal, we met through an online ad, got together to play. From the beginning, we were consistent; he came over every Monday evening. We hung out and talked after playing. Our play was sometimes edgy, dancing on the boundaries and limits, maybe at times a little scary… because I trusted him. I knew within that he would never really hurt me. And on the flip side, we had our silly times, like when he showed up at my place on Halloween, masked and dressed as “Super Spanko.” I knew all kinds of odds and ends about him; the farming community, population 350, he’d grown up in; the names of all his siblings; how much he adored his dog.

We were friends/play partners for over two years. And… then he met someone. There was a mutual attraction, a couple of dates. He told her about me. She said, “I don’t think I like that.”

And just like that, we were done. The last time we played, I wept. I told him I loved him. He said he loved me too, and he always would. But then I never saw him again.

Does that mean that what we had wasn’t real? Is something real when it can be tossed aside so easily? Or is that simply just another sad fact about the nature of relationships? I don’t know.

I bear him no resentment. I did hear from him briefly once, via email. He’d bought a house. I hope he found happiness. He was a good guy; he deserved it.

I suppose the point of all this rambling is — damn. I’ve been doing this for over twenty-three years, and I still get muddled and mixed up emotionally over what’s real and what’s simply born of the intense, instant intimacy and vulnerability. And if I still get taken in by it, how the hell do scene newbies handle it?? How do they navigate the sea of feelings that can be stirred up when you put yourself into someone else’s hands? When they cut through layers and layers of outer bullshit and go straight to your core? When you gift each other with trust and vulnerability, and then it’s gone as quickly as it came?

In a perfect world, pseudo-intimacy would indeed develop into something more real, and more lasting. We could keep those wonderful feelings and experience them again and again. Where real life wouldn’t take them away. Where no matter what relationships go in and out of each person’s life, the core friendships and caring remain.

Is that too much to ask for? I know some say that I don’t have a right to expect this: that I have a relationship, so I shouldn’t want for this too. Well, guess what. I do anyway. I guess I will never stop yearning for it. Because I know it’s possible. And don’t ask me what the man is getting out of it, if he’s not my primary relationship. I sure hope to hell that all the men who have been my play partners over the years got something out of it.

Because I sure did, and I don’t think we could have connected as deeply if they didn’t.

Anyway. I should be working. But sometimes, I just have to ramble. And hope that it resonates with someone out there. Thoughts, anyone? Your own experiences with this?

To Give Or Not to Give… a Fuck?

(Caution: Many f-bombs ahead)

Despite the fact that in many things I’m a moderate person (drink in moderation, eat sugar in moderation, indulge myself overall in moderation), my feelings of self-worth occupy opposite poles.

On good days, I feel strong, confident, reasonably comfortable in my skin. I am inner-directed, rather than focusing outward, and my self-acceptance is at an all-time high. During these times, I think, “I give zero fucks what people think of me.”

Then, for whatever reason (or sometimes no reason at all, simply because my brain wiring is screwy), I drift to the opposite extreme. Those are the times when my long-gone mother’s ghost natters in my ear like a relentless mosquito. “Don’t say that (do that, look like that, act like that, wear that, etc., etc., ad nauseam) — people will think you’re weird.” (God forbid, right?) And that’s when I think, “You’re a fraud, Erica. You give ALL the fucks about what people think of you.”

These down times are particularly insidious when they come at the end of something fun, something exciting, because life seems even drearier than usual in comparison after them. The drop is real.

I think what I need in this instance is balance. Giving zero fucks is unrealistic. Giving all the fucks is overwhelming. I need to learn how to give some fucks. In other words, be selective about my fucks-giving.

So who should get them? Who should be worthy of taking up space in my brain and my heart and my mercurial feelings? The people who care about me. Who love me. Who accept me, even when I’m being weird. (Which is pretty much all the time. Because come on — normal is overrated. So there, Mom.)

John, for example. For another example, the friend who drops me an email nearly every day; who, despite whatever is on her plate, always cares about what’s on mine. Or for yet another example, the friend who, after reading my tweet this morning about feeling blech again, texted me this:

FullSizeR (1)

Which made me cry. But it was the touched kind of tears, not the hurt kind.

The gestures don’t have to be grandiose. I am appreciative of all of them.

People who remember my birthday.
People who notice when I haven’t been around and check in.
People who surprise me with special little treats (you know, like chocolate, champagne… 😉 )
People who make me laugh.
People who, even for just a few minutes, lighten my spirits and make me forget about The Putin Pleasin’ Treason Boy of Company Pee. (Thank you for that one, Bette Midler.)
Thoughtful, kind, caring people. People who bring out all the good in me, all I have to offer. Who make me want to be the best me.

These are the people I need to focus on, whose opinions I should value, whose thoughts and feelings I should care about. Balance.

So that’s my goal. Keep in mind those who are give-a-fuck worthy, and give them their due. The rest shouldn’t matter.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of fucking work to do…

 

The waiting…

…is the hardest part, as the old song goes. I am in that pre-play mode, edgy, restless, uncertain about details but with plans in place (sort of), and I’m jumping out of my skin. The urge to play is very strong these days, and when it’s so close I can practically feel it, it’s very hard to concentrate on things. You know, like work.

i-can-t-keep-calm-waiting-sucks

First, regarding B, he has invited me back up north to play, during the week of July 22. I suggested Wednesday-Thursday, like we did last time, which would be the 24-25. He said he will look into flights and so forth. I have not heard back with a confirmation, but I am assuming (hoping!) it’s going to be a done deal. Another quickie adventure! This time, I think it will be a lot easier and less nerve-racking, as I know what to expect, the right train to get on, the ins and outs of the airport, where to find the cheapo parking, how to get an Uber, etc. Oh, and B has promised me a “special non-punishment caning” when I visit. Hmmm. I am eager to experience this — I think I have before, but it’s been a long time. The cane can actually be quite sensual when it’s used lightly, rhythmically. However, I’ve also been promised another strapping, so there will be all sorts of feels. And to that I say, bring it! 😀 I look forward to seeing him again.

And second, I had a coffee date last week. I had mentioned a local man contacted me on Alt.com and his message was actually articulate, respectful and friendly, and he attached a photo with no dick in sight. I replied, and after a few messages, we moved to email and exchanged various bits of stories and information. He is a switch, very much into spanking, sounds like he’s had a fair amount of experience. After about a week of emails, he suggested we meet for coffee, and suggested last Friday morning. Despite living not far from me, he works two jobs and has a very busy schedule, so I had to be flexible, although Fridays are tough for me because I’m busy wrapping up work and getting ready to head for John’s. So we agreed on Friday.

Then, last Tuesday, I had no work. This always gets me a bit edgy and I was trying to come up with things besides a workout that I could do with the free time. D had just confirmed our Friday coffee, and I casually wrote back that I wished it could be today, since I’m at loose ends with no work. He then came back with the suggestion that he could leave work early and meet me later at 5:00 that day, if I liked. Yes, please! I was at the gym when I got that message, but I was almost done and it was about 2:30, so I had enough time to finish up, go home, shower and change, and get myself to the meeting place at 4:50, where I got a coffee and sat to wait.

He showed up at 4:57 (prompt! That’s a huge plus with me). And since he was coming from work, he was in a suit and tie. I know I’ve talked about this before, but there is always that “Mystery Date” moment — (Christ, I’m dating myself) — “Will he be a dream? (ahhh…) “Or a dud?” (uggghhh…) I mean, you exchange pictures online, but you never know until you see each other up close and personal. I think we both had an “ahhh” moment, if I could judge by the look on his face. So, first hurdle overcome. Whew.

He got his coffee and suggested we sit outside, since it was nice out and no one else was out there, and I said sure. The next hour flew by, while we talked about a lot of different things. The conversation was easy, friendly, no awkwardness. And I knew I was in trouble when I couldn’t stop looking at his hands. Large hands, with blunt-tipped fingers. I imagined him removing the suit jacket, unbuttoning the cuffs of his crisp white shirt and rolling up his sleeves. Slowly. Fixing a stare on me the whole time.

Breathe, Erica.

When we said goodbye, he said he would contact me soon with the some ideas of when we might arrange some time to play, and gave me a hug. We had exchanged phone numbers. But of course, I’ve had these meetings before where I don’t hear a word afterward. I figured now all I could do was wait and see.

The next morning, I got a sweet follow-up email from him. Said it was nice to finally meet, that he enjoyed talking with me… and that he had wanted to ask during our visit if we could go back to my place and play, but he wasn’t sure of the etiquette. But we’d have to do it soon.

Well.

I wrote back that I’d enjoyed meeting him as well, and my only problem today was that I was having trouble focusing on work for some reason.

He wrote back with this:

Well, we will have to schedule something soon so that we can get you re-focused. I wouldn’t want you neglecting your work. That would be very naughty, & I love to punish naughty girls. 

Okay, scrape me off the walls and the ceiling now…

Later that day, he sent another message, asking if by any chance I was free the next day (Thursday), because he might be able to swing something at noon — hopefully his arm. Oh, crap. Of course, I would have a hair appointment at noon! And my hairdresser is always booked way in advance, so there was no postponing it. (sigh) Sooo… in the interim, I sent him a couple of my fiction stories, since he said he liked reading about my adventures.

And then Friday, he wrote back with feedback to the stories. He liked them. Talked a bit more about some of his experiences. And then ended with this:

We will have to find some time soon. By Monday hopefully I will know if there is a day next week we can play. I can hardly wait to feel that sexy bottom of yours warm up under my hand.

Holy freaking mother of God. How in ever-loving hell was I supposed to concentrate on work now?? Somehow, I did get my work done and sent before I had to pack it in to go to John’s. And then it was time to table everything for the weekend.

So… now it’s Monday, and the wait continues. The uncertainty lingers. The flight for B is not yet reserved. The play date with D is yet to be determined. And so I wait, and wait, and wait… and wonder what’s ahead. Wondering if it’s finally my time, after a really long-ass bleak year, for the most part. Hardly daring to think that maybe my luck is swinging in a different direction, if there will be more good times, people to count on, interact with and enjoy. Or will it all get jerked away again, because that’s how life seems to go? Because there’s still a part of me that doesn’t believe I get to keep good things? That the tastes of them that I’ve received recently are just flukes?

Fuck that.

I. Deserve. Good. Things. And good people. So, deep breaths. And patience.

Stay tuned…

Reflections on relationships

Next week, on Thursday, John and I will be together for twenty-two years. On Friday, we will head for yet another Shadow Lane party. That’s sort of become our anniversary celebration. I will be very busy for the next week or so, so I figured I’d squeeze in a post here so y’all won’t think I’ve disappeared.

John and I never married, and we don’t live together. And yet we have been through so much in our years. Countless laughs, many tears. Many of life’s passages, including the losses of both our parents, job losses/transitions, and an illness and open heart surgery that nearly took him from me. When I first met him, he was living in an apartment; now he owns two homes. We’ve shared so many things, so many events. To this day, he still makes me laugh like no other. To this day, no one knows me better than he does.

We love each other. ♥

Here is the part that continually baffles me. I must be doing something right, being able to maintain this relationship for so long. And yet, it seems I cannot keep any other kind of relationship for any length of time. Friends, play partners, etc. They come into my life, they exit. Sometimes the exits are dramatic, sometimes they just fade out. Sometimes they ghost. Sometimes, they’re still there, but otherwise preoccupied. Online, I have several people who enjoy communicating with me. People who don’t even know me send me beautiful words like these:

I’m writing to make sure you understand that there are many, many people out there just like me who appreciate and admire you. You may not know this, but you’ve been an inspiration to so many of us, with your blog, with the films you’ve been in, with your humor and honesty. With your politics. Also, if you’ll forgive me, your incredibly spankable bottom. 🙂

The above is real, and it moved me to tears. But if I’m this wonderful, why don’t people stay?

And for those who are wondering who I’m talking about — please don’t. This post is cumulative. This post is, sadly, about many.

Is this just the nature of today’s relationships? Are we all so busy, so distracted, so caught up in social media and work and life’s constant barrage of insanity that we don’t have time to invest in lasting closeness? Are we torn in too many different directions? The irony is that in today’s age, it’s easier than ever to connect to people. You don’t even have to go anywhere. You can Skype, you can text, you can email. You don’t even have to talk on the phone if you don’t want to (and I don’t). It takes mere seconds to fire off a text to someone. A “Hi, really busy, but thinking of you,” or “Hi, just wanted to say I love you.” And yet, we’re more disconnected than ever.

Or is it that I’m a fatally flawed human who can’t keep people in my immediate circle? Am I not interesting enough, in person? Fun enough? Kinky enough? Available enough? Are John and I together this long because we’re both social square pegs and birds of a feather and all that?

Because I am an introvert and somewhat reclusive, it’s true I don’t open my heart to many. I don’t have the time or patience for acquaintances and small talk. But when I do open that door, it is fully open; I am loving, supportive, deeply loyal. Lately, I’m beginning to wonder if I should simply seal my heart away for good. Because there isn’t much of it left. Over the years, so many people have come in, taken what they needed, and left the rest behind. I’m getting too old for this shit.

So, another party. The sweet torture of being thrust into three days of noise and crowds, feeling overwhelmed, and talking more in those three days than I do in six months — and yet loving it because I’m among my people. Because I can play to my heart’s content. As seems to be the case every damn time now, I haven’t been spanked for a couple of months, so I’m feeling out of condition and worried that the play will be too much for me. And of course, then there’s the other part of me that’s afraid the people I want to play with, won’t want to play with me. But I’ve gone through the proper motions. I bought new panties and a couple of new dresses. I will get my hair cut, get a pedicure. Fake it till you make it (although I detest that expression).

My heart is not in it right now. But I will take my body into it, and hopefully my heart and spirit and joyous spanko side will follow. I will have my beloved with me. The man who has stayed.

Enough of that. Work has gotten busy again, for which I am grateful. Sorry I’ve been MIA.  For those who want to see pictures, here ya go. My new panties.

20180816_153648

And here’s a butt shot from a few months ago. No, I haven’t let myself go and disappeared into a vat of bonbons. I’m too fucking vain for that. :-Þ

20171212_115429

Part of me thinks it may have been a mistake to start this blog up again, but I’m not going to make another dramatic exit. I will write when time allows and when the spirit moves me. When I have something to say.

Until then, have a good weekend, y’all. And be kind to each other.

Post Navigation

%d bloggers like this: