You’ll be gone, and I’ll be happier?

That awkward moment when a song makes you realize you can’t let go of your asshole ex, because you’re still in love with him.

Happier, A Fine Frenzy

Quick kid quick, so harsh and cynical
Touches stricken, cold and clinical
What a transformation to behold
But I don’t like this new, I want the old

It’s not the words that make it final
You’ve said such things such things before to rival them
But it’s how you say ’em now that’s changed
Cold but sympathetic all the same

Lie to convince me that I’ll be better off
Oh, you go on and I’ll be happier, I’ll be happier
You go on, yeah, you go on
You’ll be gone and I’ll be happier

Shoot me with your rubber bullets
Your finger’s on the trigger, pull it
I know you want this suffering to end
So it is forgivable my friend

It’s all to convince me that I’ll be better off
So you go on and I’ll be happier,
You go on and I’ll be happier
You go on, yeah, you go on
You’ll be gone and I’ll be happier


Say what you mean, what you mean
Cause you’ll be happier without me, without me, without me, oh

You won’t convince me, that I’ll be better off
So you go on and I’ll be happier, I’ll be happier
You go on, you go
You’ll be gone, and I’ll be gone
You go on and I’ll be happier, you go on and I’ll be happier
You go on, you go on, you go on and I’ll go on and I’ll be happier
You on and I’ll be happier, you go on and I’ll be happier

You go on, and I’ll be happier

Just Say No


I’ve decided that turning people down is never going to be easy for me. It’s never going to feel like the right time, it’s never going to be something that doesn’t bother me, or that I enjoy. I get majorly stressed, and so I tend to avoid it by, um, continuing to see people I don’t want to be seeing?

I am going to have to just rip off the band-aid. It’s like tackling a monster to-do list. You just do it. You complete each item, you check them off, and at the end you breathe a huge sigh of relief and you never have to think about those things again. 

Carrying this stress and trepidation around is no good. I just need to get it over with, and then I’ll be done.


I am going to stop seeing The Sadist. You’ll have noticed that I’ve never written in detail about what we do. This is a sign to me that something is wrong. I don’t write about it, because frankly, thinking about it squicks me out. I invariably end up having my boundaries pushed, but not in a way that feels good.

What it boils down to, is the fact that we have different kinks–period. I never thought I’d find someone too kinky for me, but it seems to have happened. Different things excite us, different things turn us on, and it has been a struggle to find that balance. Compromising in sex, with someone I am not even in a relationship with, seems pointless. Neither of us is ever going to be completely satisfied, so I will just have to tell him, no matter how much we enjoy each other’s company.

As for Sugar Daddy, I know I need to cut him loose, but for some reason I can’t seem to. I need to figure out the reasons why I am having such a difficult time with this. I don’t even like him–he sucks.

1) I don’t like the idea of knowing other women have him, and I don’t. It doesn’t matter that I don’t want him.

2) I don’t like the idea of Jailbait “winning”. It doesn’t matter that he is not a prize. Doesn’t matter that he has absolutely zero emotional attachment to her whatsoever. It doesn’t matter that he pisses on her, and makes her lick his girlfriend’s ass. What matters is that–as unfeminist and jr. high as this sounds–she stole him from me. It will piss me off if she thinks she won. It will piss me off if I think she won.

3) He was my first lover in the city. He was the first person I got to know, and spent time with, when I moved here. In a way, I associate the city with him. I associate my life here with him. His condo was my first home away from home.

4) I know he will always want me. I know he will never stop craving sex with me. He is addicted. Like an ass, he told me that I am better in bed than Jailbait and his girlfriend. I don’t think he is lying, because of the way he has behaved when I have cut him off in the past. Knowing this makes me feel powerful. And until recently, I was addicted to his sex, too. And part of me is afraid to cut him off and then end up feeling like I need his cock again. I am afraid of being broken and feeling like I need him again. I would rather stay than go crawling back.

5) He is persistent. He is a freaking hound dog. He does not give up. If I tell him I no longer want him, he won’t accept it. He will continue to try to get be back. He will say things–sweet things, awful things. He will try to tempt me. He will try to hurt me. He will tempt me. He will hurt me. I am afraid of this. I am afraid of my response. I am afraid that we will be on-again, off-again, on-again, 0ff-again, on-again, off-again, into infinity.

None of this is good. None of these are good reasons. I just need to find the strength. I need to trust myself. But my track record isn’t so good, so I don’t trust myself.


It’s self-reflection time, bitches!


This post will likely be rambling, because I write to figure out how I really feel.

I need to examine my motivations for my actions, and find a way to be true to myself, care for myself, and live a life that is authentic.

Part of the thing that makes my life more complicated than it needs to be, is the fact that I am a highly empathetic person. One of the worst feelings for me is disappointment–I can’t even say the word without getting an empty, crappy feeling in my chest. So naturally, I hate disappointing others.

Dating and exploring obviously comes with a measure of disappointment and rejection. It is inevitable. But it doesn’t make it any easier for me to dole out. And yet, I feel that any action on behalf of another that I will resent or that will harm me emotionally or waste my precious time, is off-limits.


We’ll start with Dark Daddy. He helped me through a crappy time in my life. He helped me discipline myself. He was a friend when I needed one. And yet I knew–I knew–from when we firs starting talking–that we weren’t right for each other. He was too pushy and demanding. He lacked sensitivity in certain areas. He asked for naked pictures of me before we ever met face to face. And though I said no, this gave me clues about him that I chose to ignore because I was focusing on the good things. He is a loyal friend. He had good references. He is a devoted father, knows the right questions to ask to help me get to the heart of a matter, and takes being a Daddy/Dom seriously.

However, we didn’t share a whole lot of interests, didn’t have a lot of shared experiences, and though both of us have physical touch as one of our top love languages, he seemed to think quality time meant fucking. Which I certainly did not agree with.

I told him that our first meeting upset me. He jokingly said I was a suck–that no amount of time with him would be enough. I told him it wasn’t about the fact that it was two and a half hours, it was how we spent it. I really wanted to have sex with him of course, but the before and after are just as important and I needed to connect in other ways.

He told me that he didn’t understand why I’d want to waste our limited time together eating, or taking a walk, when he “knows” that we both show love through physical touch and he “knows” that if we had spent some of that time doing other things, I would have complained about not getting enough cock.


We argued for a couple of days, and he said he was going to wait a few weeks until he was settled, knew his work schedule, and could plan properly before he saw me again. I was fine with that at first, and then I was pissed off.

I knew he was busy what with moving, starting a new job, and being in a friend’s wedding, but I also knew he had chunks of time free–chunks of time he’d originally planned to use to fuck me. I told him I felt like he was punishing me for feeling the way I did, and that if he only had a couple of hours here and there we could just as easily grab a coffee, hang out, and connect outside of the hotel room.

We argued some more, because he felt I was not submissive because I was questioning him. I felt that he was arrogant and was allowing his pride to prevent him from understanding where I was coming from. In the end, I decided not to see him again.

Today he texted and was not so slyly implying that I missed him, that I should trust him, etc. He mentioned how patient he is multiple times–something men have said to me on more than one occasion to make it seem like a virtue that they still want me, even though I have explained that I do not want them.

Eventually I think he got the message that we are not going to happen–I refused to give him the answers he wanted.

If there is one thing I will not stand for from a partner, it’s having my feelings invalidated. He told me I “got myself upset” about what happened, and that if I was thinking logically, I wouldn’t have reacted that way. Them’s fightin’ words, dude.


Here’s where I need to examine myself: I know that I decided not to continue to see him because his behaviour was just not okay. I immediately moved on. I’m wondering, though–how would I feel right now, if I wasn’t dating? How would I feel if there wasn’t anyone out there interested in me? Would I be willing to give him another chance, even though, though we connected, we didn’t click in the right way? Would I be willing to accept what he is offering, even though I hate the fact that he presumes to know me and what I need, better than I do?

It’s unsettling to think about.

Moving along. I slept with Sugar Daddy again. I did it because I was horny, but if I am being honest, I also did it because I was lonely. I knew he wouldn’t give me what I needed emotionally, but I just wanted to be told things I hadn’t been told in awhile. I wanted to hear that I am beautiful, not that I am sexy. I wanted someone to ask me to text them when I got home to make sure I was safe. I wanted someone who would pour me a drink before sex, and feed me after. I just wanted to be treated “properly”, in the most superficial sense, because I wasn’t getting treated properly emotionally or superficially anywhere else.

He started crossing the line. Pushing boundaries. I thought that if we were just fucking, he would respect my independence more than he did when I was his submissive. But he asked me to call him Daddy–I refused, because I decided after the Dark Daddy fiasco of 2014, that “Daddy” means “I love you”–I’m not going to throw that word around, even if I never get to say it again.

He invited me to a Halloween party at a sex club, bought the tickets, and then informed me that he may also be bringing Jailbait. He’d “already bought three tickets”, so obviously I have to go along with that plan. Obviously.


Then he told me I could keep seeing The Sadist (I suspect because The Sadist taught me how to come silently–something Sugar Daddy was never able to do, because he is not a true Dom), but he wanted me to “ditch the other guys.” There were no “other guys” in particular, but he knows that I’ve been going on dates. I said no. I hadn’t yet been on a date with Gentleman Friend, but I told him I wanted something real, and I was not going to not look for it just because he wanted me ever-available.

He is bothering me. He speaks with respect about The Girlfriend, he respected Yoga Girl’s limits, but he has never respected mine and it’s become clear that he never will. I knew this before, I’m not sure why I thought if we were just banging it would be different. So I think I need to tell him good-bye.

Here’s the absolutely fucking ridiculous part. After everything he did to me–the horrible things he said, the way he treated me like I was less than nothing, the lies, the pressure, the putting me in awful and uncomfortable situations, the way he ripped my heart right out of my chest–I feel bad dumping him.

Why? What is wrong with me that I care at all about the feelings of a man who doesn’t even have any? Even Gentleman Friend’s wife said that while she really enjoys him, she thinks he cares more about his needs than he does about making other people happy.

I know it would be best to just make a clean break, but how? What do I say? I don’t need this.

And then of course, I worry that it is only because Gentleman Friend is in my life now, that I feel the need to cut him off. Having knocked him off his pedestal and replaced him with someone far better, now I am free to move on because I am not lonely anymore.

If that is the case, gawd that is pathetic. And if it is the case, will I regret breaking it off with him if things don’t work out with Gentleman Friend? My brain is confused.


As much as I don’t have time for any more dating at all right now, there are interested men on OkCupid who seem nice, fun, and who are highly matched with me according to the compatibility questions. There is another Daddy from Alt still interested in me. And I think, geez, how do I turn these people down without shooting myself in the foot?

Because I don’t want to blow them off. What if Gentleman Friend isn’t one of the ones, and one of these guys is? Obviously there will always be fish in the sea, and this is a sick way of thinking, but I can’t help it. And then I also want to shield myself from becoming overly attached to G.F. by connecting with others. I don’t want to throw myself all in and end up unable to come up for air. I need to be careful because I tend to jump the gun.


Clearly I shouldn’t be using dating others as my way of not becoming too attached, too fast. I should just pursue my own interests, make friends, hang with my family, do my thing, be logical, remain calm, and remind myself that no one but me is responsible for my happiness. But I can’t help but hope, and hope is really freaking scary. It runs away with me and I have to calmly ask it to return me to earth before I float away.

I really don’t know if I have resolved anything here. But my fingers hurt from typing what may be my longest blog post ever, and my eyes are starting to blur, so I should probably call it a night. I am exhausted and have nothing else to say.

Man Clutter (I hate it when she’s right)

All right, I do have man-clutter. A serious case of man clutter. No sooner did I hit “Publish” on my last post, than I received a message from Dark Daddy, trying to arrogantly and somewhat intrusively ascertain how I am doing without him, while at the same time expressing how patient and awesome he is. I’m sure he is thinking that I am pining, regretting my decision to cut him loose, etc. I am not. At all. And I wouldn’t be even if I hadn’t met my Gentleman Friend. I don’t need someone who demands a whole lot and offers nothing but orgasms in return.

Also got a text from another Daddy type who I spoke with on Alt. . .and I don’t know how to tell him I’m not really interested. I could meet with him, but what’s the point? He seems great, honestly, but so what?

Then I got a message from The Sadist, asking if I would like to participate on a reverse gang-bang for his birthday. I told him he can sign me up, because we’re friends, and why the heck not? I learned more from my few sessions with him than I did in my entire relationship with Sugar Daddy or any other Dom. He is legit,  and it would make me happy to do this for him.

And now Sugar Daddy is asking, for the third time, if I can reconsider whether or not I can see him on Friday. No dude, I can’t. You had me on Monday, Gentleman friend’s wife on Wednesday, and you’re spending the weekend with The Girlfriend, so seriously, why do you keep pushing? I already know the answer to that question–he doesn’t like not having the power. He knows he is not a priority for me (he asked me to call him Daddy last week and I laughed out loud), and he wants to try to become one again. Not because he cares about me–we know he does not–but because he wants to be able to Dial-a-Pussy whenever he wants, like its as easy as ordering a pizza.

WTFever dude. I don’t need this in my life. I actually am free on Friday, but I want to stay home, watch a movie with my husband, do my hair, wear my fuzzy PJs, and just chill out. So he will just have to wait until I feel like it. Or until never. Friends with benefits don’t get to insist. Especially not ones who have broken your heart.

Time to do some house-cleaning?




My security blanket is torn

from where you left it

blowing on the fence

covered in shattered glass

and woven through with barbed wire


Yet I hold it to my cheek

because it smells like you

and it tastes like freedom and comfort

both at once


I can pretend that its sting

is the kiss of a lover

who tastes like cinnamon

instead of the bite

of a poison apple


Your house is piped with icing

the windows made of sugar

the walls, gingerbread

I curl up in the bed

where I am fed

before I am devoured


The smell of wood burns my nostrils

but I imagine I will not be pushed

into the fire


If I drift

to the scent of gingerbread and crackling wood

and make believe you are baking me cookies

instead of plotting my death

like the big, bad wolf,

will my dreams be sweet?


I missed the walls

The logs with the knots

the stain on the floor

the matted fur rug

the last mirror that said

“you are beautiful”


It’s Simple, Really

I have been suffering under the illusion that our breakup was complicated, but it really wasn’t.

I have come to a simple, yet startling realization.

Despite the lies, the other women, the emotional neglect and his lack of basic human decency–we ended for one reason:

I loved him, and he didn’t love me back.

Strategies of a Sociopathic Ego-maniac

Sugar Daddy texted me again. I wanted to just forget about it, but it has been 24 hours and I’m still ruminating, so I thought if I just got it all out here, it might help me to move on.

First lesson–on an HTC smartphone, you cannot delete someone as a contact and have them remain blocked. Once they’re out of your phone, they are no longer a blocked contact. Fail.

So his text is just sitting there, staring up at me whenever I go to answer another message. And I have his number, which I don’t think will lead to any moments of weakness or drunk-dialing, but then again, it is me–you never know.

His text was under the ridiculous pretense of updating me on some condo drama of his, which I was loosely involved in. There is no way he actually thinks I care. I didn’t write back, but I was highly annoyed–both at him, and at my internal response.

I felt confused–I had a couple seconds of unreality. Then I contemplated responding–either with chit chat, or with insults. So far, I have done neither.

I started to daydream. I had conversations with him in my head, wherein I told him he didn’t just break my heart–that is too weak a term for what he did to me. I don’t know if there is a word in the English language to convey the complexity and depth of my pain, but “destroyed” seems to be most fitting. I have been slowly, painstakingly, trying to re-assemble myself, but it’s no use. There are pieces missing, swept up in the aftermath, that I will never get back. There is fear where there used to be daring, doubt where there used to be confidence, insecurity where there was once self-possession.

I don’t know what he wants from me. I don’t know why it isn’t enough. He lured me into loving him. He siphoned my worship, along with everything else. He diminished me until I was willing to kiss the ground he walked on, if he would only love me back. I would have walked on hot coals, I would have crawled across broken glass, and he knew it–but once he’d won, he lost his desire to please me. He regarded me as pathetic. And I couldn’t take that look on his face, I couldn’t take his dismissive words, I couldn’t watch as he poured his time, affection and efforts into another girl and left none for me.  I would have done anything for him to love me but he couldn’t. . . so I left. And even then, he got me to admit that I still love him–worship him. He got me to admit that all I wanted from him was to understand my pain, to say that he was sorry. To treat me like a person. Instead, he turned the knife, so he could pull it out and watch me bleed.

He won. He wins. Why isn’t that enough?

I know he doesn’t want me. This isn’t about me, this is about his ego. If he wanted me–missed me–he knows where to find me. He knows where I work. He knows where I live. He knows how to pick up a phone and dial a number. But instead, he sends this ridiculous, offensive text–emblematic of his behaviour throughout our entire entanglement.

Minimum effort. Zero vulnerability. No sacrifice.

And then I wondered–why the hell would I want him to meet me after work? What would I possibly gain from a phone call, an admission of love and regret? Validation? He is a liar. He would say anything, do anything. Whether or not I hear that he is sorry makes no difference, since I can’t believe a damn word he says. And regardless, I am a different person now. There is nothing he could say or do that would make it possible for me to go back.

He is just an ego-maniac who wants to hurt me as much as he possibly can. It’s not enough to have mortally wounded me–maimed me beyond repair–he wants to go in for the kill.

Just like in the song I wrote (which I sent to him the morning after the second Jailbait fiasco), he wants to keep coming until I bleed out. He won’t let me forget, until he has added me to his pile of dead bodies and toasted his newest prey with a cup of my tears.