hide – Ivy

It was my first time going over the border and I was going through the usual questioning from customs. But, I was prepared. I’d memorized the address, I had my passport out and ready, I had my return ticket at hand in case he needed to see it.

“Have you been to Canada before?” he asked, checking my passport.

I shook my head. “No, I haven’t.”

“So, how do you know your friend, then?"

The long of it is that she was my very first follower the night I started my tumblr back in 2011 and I had no idea what I wanted from just about anything in my life. In particular, the kink stuff all had suddenly rushed into my life, coagulated into something completely indecipherable. I was starting to understand the idea that I didn’t have to hide and that I could get what I wanted, but both concepts overwhelmed me pretty equally.

And so when I found tumblrs like hers – of people off doing the things I’d thought were totally unreasonable and impossible and just functioning – I thought I’d throw myself into the fray and see what came of it. I followed a bunch of the blogs I’d been lurking around. And she followed me back.

For the better part of a week, she was my only follower, generously liking stuff while I awkwardly tried to negotiate being able to vocalize my sexuality. We exchanged asks, which turned into emails, which turned into detailed exchanges about the things we didn’t feel we wanted to elaborate about on our blogs.

And weirdly, she started taking on the caregiver/Daddy role without either of us realizing it. She listened when stuff got bad or weird or just plain old disastrous. When I was too shy to post pictures of myself, I sent them to her first to try to practice being brave. After she’d encouraged me, I’d post them up.

And, yeah, I had a high-functioning crush on her. But, more than that, I’d developed an honest friendship with a really admirable, open person who was on a pretty similar adventure.

Fast forward to this past summer, when I was in a tinychat with her and the topic of femme Daddies came up. Or maybe it was the fact that I wanted a Daddy? But there was some joking that had turned into a series of "but, really"s that turned into a dynamic we’d been unconsciously pantomiming already.

I looked up at the customs officer and blushed. ”…Internet.“

He smirked. "Okay, move along.”

Like a Brisket, Part Two

Naturally, the old shame reflex kicked in fairly soon into the afternoon when Craftsmate took out a cuff he’d made to show us at the table during lunch and I all but ran away right there.

When, after lunch, we went to a sewing supply store to pick up supplies for the kinky arts and crafts component of the mini-munch, I essentially put my sunglasses on and tried to hide when Penthouse and Craftsmate stood there and loudly discussed d-rings. I nearly died right there when Craftsmate took the cuff out again to compare.

“Oh, would you calm down?” Penthouse said when he saw me hiding by the iron-ons. “We’re right near (neighborhood synonymous with some pretty alternative lifestyles), everyone here’s kinky. For God’s sake, they keep the rope next to the clothespins and rubber straps at the Home Depot near here. They know their customers.”

And, yeah, logically, I can look at the situation and know that nobody cares. But, I still felt out of my element and I felt a huge tug on my impulse to feel ashamed and anxious. Craftsmate had joked the other day that online I was a “gung ho goddess with a rapper attitude” about all this, but in person I was awkward as all get-out about kink. With almost all of my kinky interactions being incredibly private and in the context of a relationship, I was very much out of my element in this setting.

So, I was endlessly relieved when we left the store to head to Penthouse’s place.

I mentioned a little while ago on this tumblr that I have a friend who wants to paint me.

We keep sort of arranging to get together and make it happen, but plans keep changing. To be honest, I’ve also been horribly nervous about the whole thing. We’ve sort of fluctuated on how much of me she’d paint, whether or not I’d be wearing clothes, etc.

She said we should start out small and, if I’m comfortable, she’d love to have me back. So, I think we’re just doing my face or something.

I’m not sure how I feel about being that closely scrutinized. It was sort of why nude appealed to me, if that makes any sense. I could sort of hide behind my nudity without getting into the minute details of, say, my face.

But apparently it’s happening – potentially – early next week.