Month: October 2015

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The day before I went back home in January, Sir and I had a nice brunch and went to go get my nipples pierced. It’s something I had been considering for quite a while but had never thought I was crazy enough to follow through. It was my 24th birthday present to myself. 

 The whole thing almost didn’t happen. The piercer I made the appointment with called in sick that morning, but we were directed to a colleague of hers that worked a few blocks away.

Sir held my hand while it happened. The whole thing was deeply romantic. I squeezed his fingers when the needle went through, and he reassured me that it was all looking good. And then he helped me back into my clothes and brought me, dizzy with adrenaline, down into the subway to head back to his place. 

These are the important memories. The ice cream we bought in the dead of winter when the high wore off and the pain set in, playing videogames to keep me distracted from the sting (which didn’t work but was nice in theory), Sir sleeping with an arm over me so I wouldn’t roll over in the night and hurt myself.
 

Things got hard and weird and ended up not working. But at our best we were brave and wild and tender with each other.

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On New Year’s Eve, I was at a play party with Sir and his other partner, Sophie. At one point during the night, Sir and Sophie were off together and I was out on the balcony getting some air. My coat was over my lingerie, and the chill felt kind of good on my stockinged legs.

I ended up talking to a guy out there who had seen me playing with Sir earlier and had come over with his partner. Sir had let them touch me a little bit, teasing me as they ran their fingers over my nipples and cheeks.

“So, what,” the guy kind of blurted out, “are you two going to just keep doing this until he takes you out to the suburbs and gets you pregnant?”

I stared at him, incredulous. I could see that between the time he’d played with me and then found me out on the balcony, he was a little drunk.

“No, I don’t know.” I was too shocked to formulate something more articulate. But if I saw him now, I’d say that this isn’t a phase, this isn’t some wild youthful outburst. This isn’t some crazy thing I do to get the guy I’m seeing excited until I can pacify him into settling down.

It’s weird now to try to navigate the scene without Sir. He brought me to my first munch and my first play party. But this is a part of me, and I’m grateful to him for bringing me out of my shell. So I’m ready to keep going and never totally grow out of this.

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When people ask what my career goals are.

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About a week after Sir and I broke up, I had a hair appointment and decided to be stereotypical and do something new and dramatic. So, I’ve cut about a foot of my hair off. It’s never been this short before. I like it, but I’m a little frightened of it. I don’t recognize myself in photos, sometimes not even in the mirror.

I like how gamine-like I look, and I’m weirdly getting taken more seriously in work settings. But it was oddly emotional watching it being cut away, to see it fall around me on the floor and then get swept away.

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Sup, fuckers.

What better way to mark my return to tumblr than with my very first dick pic? My friend convinced me to buy these little harness shorts today and, um, well.