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 “restlessness”

The Vicious Circle

Yeah, I can hear you guys out there. “It’s vicious CYCLE, Erica!” Both are acceptable; both are a circular, cyclical course of events that go around and around, each part perpetuating the next. Why do I prefer “circle”? Because technically, that version of the saying came first.

Anyway… where was I? Oh, yeah. What’s the vicious circle of a kinky depressive? When you’re deep in the abyss, your spanko desires take a hike. It’s like that part of you has gone into indefinite hibernation. I have experienced this, so I know it’s real. But then, as all depressions will do eventually, the fog lifts, some color comes back into the world, and you find yourself waking up in the morning without the first thought in your mind being, “Oh, fuck, I’m still alive.” So far, so good. And as you start feeling like you’re coming back to life, what kicks back into gear with a vengeance?

Uh huh. Your kinky desires. In my case, the intense, undeniable desire to be spanked. And it comes back almost angrily, as if it’s saying, “Really? You thought I was gone? Well, feel this.”

And then you remember you don’t have a regular play partner. And you feel frustrated. And then, if it goes on too long, that frustration burrows, you feel unattractive, and then guess what… you feel depressed. Vicious circle.

I guess the maddening restlessness and itch is preferable to the gray pall, because at least with the former, I feel alive. But it is challenging, to say the least. First world problems, I know. I am grateful to be feeling a bit better. However, having my needs reawakened and then unfulfilled is not good for my psyche either.

It’s during times like these that I am reacquainted with the ickiness of the kink ad sites and how frustrating and unsatisfying they can be. Yeah, you get the occasional diamond in the endless heaps of coal. I met B through one of these sites. But overall, the replies I’ve been getting are little more than CHoS fodder.

For example: one man on Alt.com sent me a message, and right out of the gate, tells me how much he loves masturbating to spanking videos. TMI, dude. I don’t answer. Over the next month, the same man continues to message me, a total of twenty times. TWENTY.

“Aren’t you going to give me a chance to spank your ass?”
“You won’t be disappointed!”
“When are you going to stop teasing me and let me spank your bare ass?”
“Well???”

Good grief. I’m not teasing you, jackass. I’m simply ignoring you. He attached pictures, too. Not dick pics, thank goodness. But one of his playroom table, which is strewn with implements along with butt plugs and dildos. No, thank you. And he repeatedly sends the same picture of himself, wrapping his mouth around a very large ice cream cone. Is this supposed to be provocative? Again, no, thank you. Part of me wanted to answer just once and say “For god’s sake, I’m not interested, give it up!” But I figured that would just encourage him.

Then you get the guys who can’t communicate. I got three messages in three days from the same man; they were as follows:

“Hello.”
“Beautiful.”
“Hello beautiful.”

No, it’s not rude or crude, but come on. Say something.

Best (?) of all, I am reminded of how many BDSMers out there simply don’t get the spanking fetish, and let me know that if they give me a spanking, they will want something sexual in return. The attitude is “So what’s in it for me?”

Makes me think of the guy on FetLife years ago, a real Uber-Dom type, who wrote to me and said that he thought bottoms who take a spanking from a man and then don’t offer at least a blowjob as a reward are “selfish and revolting.” Honey, don’t do me any favors. If you don’t get anything out of spanking, then don’t do it.

I even put this question to Twitter last week: “Tops, what do you get out of spanking? Do you feel fulfilled and happy even if it doesn’t include sex?” Some of the answers I got were so gratifying, so lovely. Of course, none of these men are local. (sigh) But it’s good to know that some really do get it.

So I keep trying, and hoping. Last week, I actually got a message from a man who is local, can string more than two or three words together at a time, didn’t send me any dick pics, and seems to get the spanking fetish. Oh, and instead of insisting we meet immediately, it was his suggestion that we get to know one another via email for a bit. All good. But you’ll forgive me if I don’t get my hopes up too high. We have yet to meet, so I will keep my head until I see this person in the flesh, talk to him and know he’s real. So far, he’s said some yummy things. We’ll see.

Meanwhile, a word to my female friends and readers out there: If you have a good top in your life, cherish him. Don’t take him for granted. Value his time. Sometimes, I think we forget that our beloved tops are people too, that they have needs and moods and insecurities, that they like to feel special. They are a lot more than simply figures there to service us and make us feel good, give us release, etc. With all the wannabes and jerkoffs out there, a good top is worth his weight in gold. Treat him as such. ♥

Repost: Some helpful suggestions

Sorry, kids — I don’t have a CHoS today. But speaking of poor correspondence, I thought it would be apropos today to repost a little rant I originally wrote on my old MySpace blog several months ago. I’ve changed some of it because some of the details that pertained then don’t now, but the gist is still there. See, I’m always trying to improve the Internet society. So for those who read this before, I apologize for the repeat. But some things do bear repeating. Here goes:

I am sick sick SICK of people who have nothing better to do than to sit behind their keyboards and take anonymous potshots at others. You know, the Internet is an amazing thing — the whole world is at your fingertips, and you can contact just about anyone you want. Some people use that power to reach out and support, to bolster, to encourage, to share friendship and be kind. Others use it for malice, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out how people can be so damned mean. Do you have any idea what you’re doing, how bad you make people feel? Do you get a surge of joy when you kick someone who’s already in the dumps? Does it build you up when you attack a stranger and tear them down? What is your problem? Who took away your teddy bear when you were three?

Yes, I know, I have my Correspondence Hall of Shame. But I do not go forth and attack people on their own turf. I merely showcase the rude things people have already written to me, and anonymously. Never a name, never an identifier. It’s my way of dealing with the frustration of receiving such stupid crap. But when my personal space gets attacked (or my friends’ spaces, as the case may be), that’s it. I see red. My claws come out. I can’t change the world or its cretinous inhabitants, but damned if I can’t blow off a little steam.

So, to the lovely folks who get their kicks from throwing stones and ruining other people’s days, might I offer a few suggestions?

1. Since you clearly have a lot of time on your hands, perhaps you should volunteer some of it to help those less fortunate than you. But don’t work with children. The youth of America is doomed as it is.

2. Get a hobby. Take up a sport. Perhaps learn to play an instrument. Who knows — the same hands that can type trash and wank vigorously at the same time could make beautiful music.

3. Pour your wit and wisdom into a manuscript for the next Great American Novel. It will be the world’s thinnest book, but hey, we do what we can.

4. Since you already have the freak thing down, join a circus. Learn to be a contortionist. Then you can entertain yourself by bending over backwards and kissing your own ass.

5. When you get the urge to write something uncalled for, go relax in a hot bath. Oh, and while you’re soaking in there, perhaps you can fix the toaster, or any other electrical appliance that needs repair. Be sure to plug it in and test it.

6. And if none of these are to your liking, there’s always my good buddy Craig’s suggestion: Go fuck yourselves.

To all the good people who help provide balance to the world’s detritus, thank you. You are appreciated more than you can imagine. (big cheesy smile here)

*  *  *  *

I really wish it were two weeks from now, and we were on our way to the Shadow Lane party. I am feeling stressed, irritable and restless, worried about J who is working too damned hard for a change and is dead exhausted, it’s 100 degrees out, blah blah blah. Last weekend, we went to the memorial of a colleague of his, who died in a motorcycle crash. I thought perhaps I should schedule a visit to my mother this weekend, but you know, I just can’t. I don’t have it in me. We are both overdue for some fun. And I am overdue to play and play and play until I am oblivious to the world, blissed out and without a care.

Have a great weekend, y’all. Stay cool.

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