The Feminist Also Rises (With a Smattering of TMI)

I’ve been speed-reading my way through about seven books at the same time. Choices include Abby Lee’s “Girl with a One Track Mind“, “No Plot, No Problem!” by Chris Baty and “How To Be a Woman” by Caitlin Moran. That last one struck a very big chord in me.

I never considered myself a feminist. But I wanted to be one. I just didn’t know how to be one. You get so many mixed messages about what feminism really is these days. Is it really all about not being allowed to wear high heels or lipstick because “then you’re betraying the sisterhood”? Do you really need to hate all men to be one?

My guess? Absolutely not.

And Caitlin Moran’s book is a fucking great confirmation of that. She says it best. We’ve forgotten what feminism is about (for those of you who don’t know, it’s the liberation of women) and are merrily making up our own definitions. Because apparently, only very uppity, man-hating women can be feminists.

Here’s the news.

EVERYONE can be a feminist. There is no wrong or right “type” of woman for this. As Caitlin says: “Feminism will have all of you”. Oh, you’re a bloke? Guess what. Feminism will have you too. If you care about the liberation of women, you’re welcome to call yourself a feminist.

That’s amazing.

Everything I ever wondered about feminism is talked about in this book. I look forward to exploring Caitlin’s world even more and perhaps learn from her experiences.

I believe that women should be as free as men. But I’m still struggling to see what’s right and wrong in this world of feminism. Do I follow my heart and what I believe? Or do I follow mindlessly in the footsteps of people I don’t agree with? (I’m guessing the first would be more plausible.)

I’d like to believe that I took my first tiny steps into the feminist world by buying that book. I even took a second step.

I actually buckled down and bought myself a copy of The Female Eunuch by Germaine Greer. I’ve yet to read it, but there is just so much power attached to that book (for me, at least) that buying it made me feel a bit smug. You know, like, “Yeah, I bought this book. Whaddaya’ think of me now, haters?”

Never before has a book made me feel like that. So I’m definitely looking forward to delving into it.

In “How To Be a Woman”, Caitlin mentions something Ms Greer says in her book. Something which I thought to be terrifyingly disgusting at first.

Taste your own menstrual blood.

It took a while for this to simmer. Taste your own menstrual blood? Why the hell would I do that? Do I transcend onto a higher plane when I do so? Do I actually gain superpowers and become Jilly Boyd: Super Feminista?

But then I thought, “Why the fuck not? I’ve taste my own juices before… what would be the difference?”

As if it was my lot, I’m currently on my period. Incidentally, I’m also in terrible, terrible pain. So, last night, I had a leisurely hour with my vibrator. After my climax, I dutifully brushed my fingers on my pants to clear off the blood. But I’m not going to lie. I was kinda curious.

So I fucking did it.

Not that I stuck a finger up my vagina and licked it off. But there was still some residue on my fingers, so I licked. It was… well, it wasn’t that different from my own cum. Just a bit iron-y. It was… well, not bad. Actually kinda good. I wouldn’t eat buckets of the stuff, but it’s not an offensive taste. Try it, don’t try it, do with it what you like. Just don’t be grossed out by it.

If you thought that was a little TMI, well, yeah. It is. It’s not going to give you feminist superpowers, it’s not going to quench thirst as good as… say, a bottle of cold Sprite will. But it is something… just something that I dare you to try. Just for the sake of being able to say “Y’know, I don’t taste bad at all.”

Maybe there are guys out there who tasted their own spunk. Or girls who sneakily stuck a finger in their pants to taste the wetness between their thighs. Well, I applaud you. You now know that you’re not as rank as the fish mongers on a Sunday. Take that knowledge and apply.

But anyhow, I’ve drifted off from the subject at hand.

I’m a feminist. A sexually blossoming, men-loving, Caitlin Moran-reading hipster feminist geek. And I’m fucking proud of it. Now, if you’ll all join me for a required naked dance, I’ll be very pleased.

Why I Am Cross With Erotica/Sex/Everything

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about all this. About why I’m writing erotica and not something completely different. I’ve refrained from posting this before, as my emotions tend to get in the way sometimes. But I just don’t want to hold this to myself anymore. If I unintentionally offend someone with this, I apologize sincerely.

Ever since I got back from London, I’ve been reconsidering all the things I’m doing with my life. The main gripe that I seem to have, although I don’t know if I want to believe it, is with writing erotica. I know, I shouldn’t complain. After all, the erotica gods seem to have blessed me with three consecutive story acceptances. I know that I can do it and I know that there are people who like reading my stuff.

I’m just so fucking sick of writing it.

I’ve been obsessed with writing the perfect smutty story ever since I started writing more grown-up fiction. I perfected my art for months until I plucked up the courage to send something I’d written. It paid off.

But as I delved into the genre more, studying craft and learning what’s popular in this genre, I began feeling incredibly insecure. There’s so much that I can’t seem to bring myself to write. I tremble at the thought of writing a rape story or something equally taboo. I don’t know if I can bring myself to write May/December romances, or age play. But these are things that are out there on paper (or in an e-book). And I really don’t know that I can write all of that. I don’t see myself as a taboo-breaker.

My second gripe is more with the genre. I had expected that there are far better writers than me. Fuck, I completely respect them and look up to them. Sometimes I even want to emulate them and be them. But more on that later.

What I did not expect (and this was completely wrong on my behalf) is that this genre is so full of festering shite that it makes me want to curl up in a ball and call an adult. That might have been strong wording, but it really does. I check the Amazon charts regularly, and it just hurts.

Seriously, some of these stories seem to have been written by a toddler. In crayon. On a wall.

I know I’m not a perfect writer. I am probably not the savior of erotica as a genre. And the truth is, I don’t even know if I want to write it anymore. It’s just such an emotionally verklempt thing for me to write. Wait, is that the right way to express it?

What I mean is that I struggle to write it. I can do the whole relationship/banter/funny thing. But when it comes to the sex thing, I’m dried out. I have no fucking clue anymore how to write the actual deed. There’s only so many ways you can say something about precum coming out of a cock.

Maybe it is just me being a massive perfectionist. Fuck it, it’s definitely me being a massive perfectionist. But I just know what turns me on and off.

The whole point of this uneven ramble is that I need to take a break from writing erotica. And writing about my sex life. Because the moment that it becomes a drag for you, is the moment you need to momentarily bow out and let other people do their thing. I took a break, but I realize I need another break to recover from my break.

I spent most of yesterday lying on the couch, sleeping. That’s just not good. I need to step back and re-energize before I completely give up on this entire thing. And I really don’t want to give up on writing. I just need to write something else. Read something else. Breathe something else.

All I breathe is sordid sex. And I want to step out of that hot, moist room that is my erotica head space and breathe some new air.

So, don’t expect anything sexual from me in the next few weeks. Because I just can’t do that right now.

Here is a bear.

99/Done

 

So, 99 questions later, The 99′er Meme comes to a close. It’s been fun, Sunday Stealing. Hope next week’s effort is as memorable.

~

76) In your opinion, what makes a great relationship?

Sharing similar views, trust, being able to laugh together and with each other.

77) How did/could someone win your heart?

Say something incredibly geeky that you think only I would understand.

78) In your world, what brings on more creativity?

Reading a lot, watching certain shows on television. Watching dvds. Other creative things.

79) What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far?

The single best decision I have made in my life so far was … *thinks*

Going to Erotic Meet for the first/second/third time. Kissing people. Pressing “send” on my first story. You decide.

80) Why did you break up with your last ex?

I’ve not broken up with anyone yet.

81) What would you want to be written on your tombstone?

RIP Jill Boyd

She was truly awesomesauce.

82) What is your favorite word?

Schadenfreude.

83) Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word: delusional.

Craig Kelly on Strictly Come Dancing.

84) What is a saying you use a lot?

“The Schadenfreude bus is leaving! Ding Ding!”

85) Are you watching Idol this season? If yes, how do you like it?

Nope. I don’t get American tv stations.

86) Were you surprised that House got canceled?

I think House has run its course pretty well. Still, was slightly shocked.

87) What is your current desktop picture?

The Dandy Shark

88) If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be?

Ah, that’s cruel. I’ll bow out of this one.

Wait… Rick Santorum? Ron Paul? Any other of those mentals?

89) What would be a question where you’d not tell the truth?

Again, no idea. I’m particularily uninspired today.

 
90) One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by WEEPING ANGELS. The Weeping Angels aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What would you do?

DON’T BLINK!!!!!!

91) You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power?

Invisibility and levitation!

92) You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again?

My first kiss, my first kiss with a girl, my kiss(es) with Shalla/Annie/the delightful Ms Blacksilk (especially that one)

93) You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?

My mum’s depression.

94) You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. (let’s say that you are both single and available) Who might it be?

Why does this have to be a music-celebrity? I don’t want to sleep with a music-celebrity.

Oh wait.

Tim Minchin.

95) You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?

I think you all know this one.

(It’s London, by the way).

96) Do you have any relatives or friends in jail?

Not that I know of.

97) Who’s winning the U.S. Republican presidential nomination? Why?

Hopefully nobody!

98) Who’s winning the next U.S. Presidential election?

Well, Obama, hopefully.

99) If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say?

Don’t listen to those fundamentalist nutters! Go your own way with your life!

Not Even Slightly Untouchable

My name is Jill Boyd. I am 21 years old, from Belgium. I am a virgin who has decided to blog about discovering sex and the frankly bonkers world of sexuality. I also write erotica and have a particular fondness for Australian chefs.

This you know.

You might also know that this blog… all 6k and-a-bit-posts of it… is not one big invitation from me to you. My words are not subtext (apart from some of my fiction). Unless your name is Jason Statham or Michael Fassbender, I am not inviting you to take personal liberties with me from the word go.

Oh, this you didn’t know?

Hold on, let me back-track.

A few days ago, I got a friendly message from a new follower. Funny Man, as I’ll refer to him, told me that my blog was excellent for killing time on a train journey with. I replied, hoping to start a nice conversation.

However, Funny Man is (as he said so himself) a bit direct.

We started chatting about the “anal cherry” post from a while back. And this was apparently the moment where things got different. You know, sexual and stuff.

It ended with me telling him he might find himself on the blog. He told me that this was no problem, as long as I tell him what I want from him….  And think about him when I’m masturbating. This was an actual thing that happened, by the way.

I don’t like this sort of directness. Not with people I’ve just met, anyway.

It got me thinking about what vibe I’m giving out with my Twitter-feed and blog and all sorts. Seemingly the wrong one! I appear to be sending vibes that I’m up for this sort of stuff.

It’s not at all what I set out to do when I started this blog. I wanted to have a place to track my sexuality and write about something near to my heart. I wanted a place where I could share this with people.

And apparently, these types of messages are bound to happen at some point. I want to set the record straight about something. Your mileage may vary on this subject, fellow sex bloggers.

I do blog about sex. But that does not mean that I now automatically want to have sex with you. I do not appreciate your directness. Not from the get-go. I’d appreciate getting to know you first. Maybe try being my friend?

I know it’s terribly naive of me to not expect this. But I guess I just felt slightly… invincible as a blogger. No, scratch that… untouchable. But I am not the exception. I am not the Elliott Ness of this entire game. And realizing that left me feeling terrible.

So, I’ve been away for a few days. Contemplating stuff.

This is not the only thing that happened by the way. I’ve been getting neck spasms more frequently. The doctor on call had to be called at quarter past midnight on a Friday to come and see if I didn’t have kidney stones because of sudden shooting pains in my lower back. It turned out to be colic.

But fuck, that was a fright.

I came to some conclusions. Big ones. Happy ones and sad ones. For example, as I’ve mentioned before, I’ve kinda lost myself on the erotica front. I want to be angry with it. Throw rocks and kick it in the pretty face.

I’ve also come to the conclusion that I need a new project to work on. So, I guess this is my way of telling you that there is going to be a second blog. But more on that when it comes to that.

I want to close with a message to Mr Funny Man.

Mr Funny Man.

Hi.

I hope I haven’t driven you away with this. I really meant it when I said that I’d want to get to know you better. I just don’t take well to directness from strangers.

So, if you don’t mind, I’ll refrain from thinking about you whilst I’m wanking.

Jilly.

How To Turn Me On (And Off)

I’m often inspired by my peers to write about stuff. Today, for instance, I found this article by Rachel Kramer Bussel (editor and writer of many a story in my bookcase) on how to turn her on. Thinking about this, I’ve discovered that I do have some turn-ons that don’t involve just having a six-pack (fear me, for I am that shallow).

For example, I’ve already outed myself as a massive sapiosexual. I can’t even begin to describe what just a smidge of intelligence does to me. Even if you’re just one for blurting out random fact about stuff, I dig that. It’s something my brain (which is my biggest sexual organ, I think) duly appreciates. I like the intellectual stimulation of a good conversation.

I also like geeks. Ooh, I love them to bits. Mainly because I am one. And just geeking out about stuff can be a pretty massive turn-on for me too.

I like quirky, dorky things in people. Just things they do. Like random dancing or a shared love of a book or a shared piece of knowledge that you thought to be obscure (for example, I once bonded with a guy who also knew that Dr Greene from ER was also in Top Gun. We high-fived on that, because we’re boss.)

Being happy about silly stuff is also a lovely plus. For example, I’ve got a friend who dorks out over DVD comment tracks (I’m looking at you, Lady Pandorah), which is so sexy.

I agree with Rachel when she says that baring a part of yourself (in the soul sense, not in the get naked sense) is very alluring. Seeing someone’s vulnerable side can make you melt on the spot.

I’ve also discovered that I’m very big on physical contact. I bet you’re thinking “who the fuck isn’t?” but I really do appreciate it from people I’m comfortable with. MFK’s first move on me was biting my ear. Which I never thought I’d like, but lo and behold, I was ladytoast. If I’m comfortable with you, I’ll most certainly appreciate a touch, a taste, a kiss.

Kissing’s a wonderful thing too. In fact, I fully intend on dedicating an entire post to it soon enough. Wonderful, passionate kisses make me swoon and tremble.

It takes me a while to feel comfortable around people, as you may have gathered. I spent most of the first Erotic Meet sitting and staring ahead of me. Attraction takes a while to set in and it can often leave me a bit confused. It makes me do weird things, say stuff I don’t want to say. But eventually, that settles. And when I can behave like a normal human being around you, I’ll be able to cope with my attraction.

I feel like I’m faffling on a bit. But I guess Rachel says it best in her piece.

 There are an infinite number of ways to turn me on. It could be a kiss, a smile, a spanking. It could be a comment, or a piece of clothing, or a sensation. It could be submission, or dominance, or chocolate. Whatever it is, I want it to make me feel special, unique, wanted. I want it to wash out all the other claims on my attention, my heart, my desire. I want it to make me feel like this could be my last moment on earth, and I’d be okay with that. Even if that lasts just for a second, if it’s the right second, it’s worth it.

There is so much that can turn me on. Words, noises, breaths. Kisses, smells, intelligence. Wit, humor, cadence of voice… if it makes me feel good, it’ll turn me on.

There is, however, one thing that never fails to put me off.

How is it that most men who talk to me immediately offer to take my virginity? I know I might have said so on this blog, but have I ever said to you that my virginity is some sort of burden that I want to get rid of? Do you not fancy just chatting with me and getting to know me?

Maybe it’s just me, but that’s a real turn-off.

There’s loads of things I may have forgotten to mention. So, here’s a handy bullet point list, so you can skip through all my nonsense and read the good stuff.

Turn-ons include:

• Sexy voices
• Wit and humor
• Intelligence
• Kind eyes
• Geekery (which is probably my number one.)
• Musicians
• Film buffs
• Foodies
• and so on…

Turn -offs include:

• A particularly keen interest in as to why I’m a virgin
• Ignorance (although I might be guilty of that myself from time to time)
• Being unnecessarily to people
• People who are intent on pushing their belief-system on me
• People who can’t agree with a more liberal lifestyle
• and so on…

So, dear reader… what turns you on? Is there a certain thing someone needs to do to get your motor going? I’d love to know (not at all for personal perving purposes, oh no sir, no). Leave a comment below, if you will.

Thank You For The Music

I am so incredibly proud of myself. I can’t even begin to describe what I’m feeling right now. This huge ball of wibbly wobbly stuff in my heart and my stomach, I think. Might be incredible indigestion. Might be incredible pride.

As of midnight tonight, Lady Laid Bare… my baby… turns one year old.

I don’t know quite why I’m making such a fuss about it. I don’t even know why I chose such a fucking cheesy title for this post.

It’s just that it seems to be the only thing I’ve managed to stick to in my life. I’ve given up on so much in the last few years. This was the one thing I didn’t want to give up on.

One year on. I remember bog-all about the day I made this account. I don’t even remember how I felt. Maybe thinking that this wasn’t going to work for long. I’ve neglected a lot of blogs in my day.

But amazing stuff happened. I met people, went places, did things I couldn’t even imagine doing the very minute I wrote my first post. I’m a better person for everything and everyone that happened.

However, I’ve been doing some self-reflection.

No worries. This isn’t the part where I fuck off to Fiji with my lover Jean Carlos and leave you all in the lurch.

I’ve told you about the changes I want to make. These are going to happen. I’m not going to back out anymore and I’m going to carry on with what I’m doing. And I’m gonna do a fuckload of wonderful stuff that you’ll be hearing all about.

But, with the help of a friend, I’ve come to a quite healthy revelation about myself. I put sex on a pedestal. Tend to glorify it and think it’s this mystical, magical thing. It fucking is not. It’s healthy. It’s a primal urge. It’s FUN.

So, I’m going to try and delve into a healthier attitude towards my own sexuality. Stop being jealous of people that are having sex. It’s going to be hard, but I’ll manage. I need to just have fun with my life and lighten up.

This is the year I put all the bad shit behind me. The year I start caring for myself and start realizing my ambitions. And they don’t necessarily involve having sex. Because really, it should be a natural thing. Maybe your mileage varies on this, but I’ve come to believe that it shouldn’t happen according to a plan. You shouldn’t set a date or do something special to lose your virginity. It’ll happen when it feels good. It’ll happen.

I’ll definitely write about whatever sexual adventures I get up to. But I want to write about other stuff too. Trips to London, moving, classes I’ll be taking, things I’ll be reading… yeah, things that happen in my life.

So, if you don’t fancy reading about that, I’m sorry. It’s my blog. It’s my life. (Fuck, that sounded harsh. But fair, I think).

There might be a bit of change in what fiction I write too. At the risk of making myself entirely unpopular with this, I have to say that I’m not that happy with erotica. Both as a genre and as a thing that I write. I want to go further into this thing I feel, but I think I might self-censor 99 % of what I really want to say.

I just don’t know if I’m writing the right stuff. When I look at what’s popular, it seems that there’s so much that I can’t see myself writing. From the popular to the downright taboo. I mean, I like writing in the style I write. And I fully know that I should keep that up. But sometimes I can’t help thinking that what I really want to do will never be well-received. If you look at what the standard is today, I mean… fuck.

I know a bunch of amazing authors. I know they’re trying their best to provide us with quality. And I appreciate that muchly. Because the stuff out there is mostly complete balls.

I know there are people that read these things. And I appreciate the people who take the time to write them. But I keep thinking if this can’t be done better. I see things like May/December romances, which is a subject that isn’t often handled, handled so well by writers like my friend Lady Grin Soul. Why isn’t this the standard?

I know that I want to do my bit to change that. But I don’t know if I have the energy left for it. I want to write other stuff too. I’ve been writing nothing but erotica and romance for a year now. Fuck, listen to me complaining. I just need to reload on this and not think about stuff like how to write a good rimming scene (Yes, I want redemption for “Red”!). I need to not have my entire head space revolve around writing proper erotica.

So, I’m doing research for the crush thing. I’m trying to edit what I have left and send it off. And I’m trying to outline my novel.

And I’m managing pretty damn well.

So, on to less grumpy stuff. Thank you’s.

I’d like to take some time to thank everyone that came into my life and everyone that made LLB a thing I enjoy working on. Thanks to all my lovely readers and commenters.

Thanks to everyone at Erotic Meet, for getting my ass in gear and giving me an extended family one could only dream of. You’re all so deliciously deviant that I relish in having you in my life and thank the stars every day for deciding to attend my first meet. Thank you.

Thanks to every lovely friend I have. You know who you are and you know why I love you to bits.

And thanks to mum for not disowning me for being a sexual libertine. May she never learn enough English to read what I write. I fear that might actually kill her. Or amuse her to no end.

So, here’s to one year of Lady Laid Bare, changes and good things to come and to my spirit animal. You know who you are.

Skoll!

If you have any wishes of prosperity for the next year my blogging career, wish to comment on my grief with erotica or anything ever, do leave a note below. I’d looooove to hear from you!

 

Cupid, Draw Out Your Bow

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY

Whether you celebrate Valentine’s Day or think it’s a consumer-oriented, manipulative and shallow interpretation of romance, just have yourself some fun by answering these TMI Tuesday questions.

1. Cupid is the god of desire, affection, and erotic love. As the myth goes, a person who is shot by Cupid’s arrow is filled with uncontrollable desire. On your behalf, who would you like Cupid to shoot?

Ooh, that’s a toughie… I’d love Cupid to shoot towards the guy I’ve been chatting with. We could spend Valentines being grumpy together, as per my suggestion.

2. Earlier in the evening you had dinner at the Fook Yue Chinese Restaurant. You are feeling quite amorous. You open a fortune cookie in the bedroom. Three fortunes appear:
1- “Your patience will be rewarded.” What would you like that reward to be?
2- “Try something new.” What is the something new you want to try?
3- ” ’tis better to give than receive.” What would you like to give?

A) I would like to find a home and a job in the UK.

B) A new class or a new genre of writing.

C) Love and support to all my friends.

3. If you were to write a special Valentine message (e.g., card, letter, etc.) what is that message?

I actually did write a special Valentines message… Something about being grumpy together…

4. Are you doing something special for Valentine’s day or is it just another day?

Just another day. But no worries. I’ll be fine.

5. You must give chocolate to your secret Valentine for Valentine’s Day. The chocolate is in the shape of your what?

Vagina Heart.

Bonus:
You can make your own valentine heart candy. What is your message? (Go to this link. Create your candy. Post the generated Valentine candy on your blog).

ILU

YLM?

Tender/Loving/Care

Tender

~

The way you hold my hand.

The way you soothe my unruly mind.

The beats of your heart.

The way your beard prickles against my cheek.

Your breath.

Your soft words.

Tender.

 

Loving

~

Look into my eyes.

Use no words, only blinks.

Blink to me.

Blink that you think I’m the bee’s knees.

That you want me to be me.

And that you love me for who I am.

And you wouldn’t want it any other way.

 

Care

~

Hold me in your arms.

Mop the sweat off my hot brow.

Tell me sweet nothings and stroke my hair.

Let me sup from your red wine.

Make me feel like me.

Care for me.

~

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Michaela Strachan, You Broke My Heart

 I turned on the telly
When I got home from school
She was there in her wellies
And a yellow Cagoule
You opened my eyes
To the birds and the bees
I loved you so
My Really Wild Show
On the BBC

A while ago, I did an entire epistle on teenage crushes. I liked writing it. But in hindsight, I felt like I missed the point a bit. Not every teenager has a hot crush on a celebrity. So, I felt a bit stupid for leaving that out, because I did have my fair share of crushes on non-celebrities.

Last night, lying in bed after a particularily epic orgasm, I got to thinking. This one song kept drifting through my brain. I wanted to find a good quality video of it, but I apologise, because there isn’t one.

It’s a song called “Michaela Strachan” by Scouting for Girls. It basically says everything I wanted to say in that post.

I said that “it takes courage to turn the page”. What I meant by that is that it takes a lot of balls to grow up. When you realize that your Michaela isn’t going to show up on your doorstep in her wellies and Cagoul to whisk you away on a wildlife adventure, that’s quite painful. Or at least, it was to me. Over and over again.

I feel like I’m missing the point again though. This was much clearer in my head last night, which is amazing considering I had just had such an epic orgasm that I ladyjizzed all over my sheets and nearly fell over dead…

Anyway, I started thinking about my own history of crushes. Now that’s complicated shit. But I think I remember where it originated.

In fact, it was ten years ago this year.

(author’s note: If anything gets lost in translation, I apologize.)

This guy… (let’s refer to him as The Catalyst, or C) .. he was a junior pedagogue at my first boarding school. The junior pedagogues were there during the summer months to keep the children busy during the day. I was eleven, he was… what, seventeen… And I hopelessly crushed on him. The age gap and possible future paedophilia charges did not once cross my mind. Remember, I was eleven.

Now, you should know that, until recently, I had no fucking clue how to act towards men. Every time I had a crush, I made an utter tit of myself. Here, I did so by attempting to plant a kiss on his cheek before he left us. Needless to say, he did an expert job in brushing me off.

My heart, it was broken!

And that’s where the celebrity crushes come in. They were my coping mechanisms for rejection. I spent months fantasizing about Pierce Brosnan, just to forget C. And it worked. Sort of.

So, what was my big idea last night?

I’m going to write a book about it.

Part me telling you about my history with crushes (both celeb and regular people) and part research about what makes people crush. I’d love to have your input, by the way.

Have you ever crushed on a celeb? On a classmate? Teacher, colleague, boss, neighbour, anyone?

What do you think made you crush?

What is your definition of a crush?

Anything you want to tell me on the subject can be deposited into my e-mailhole (the address is on the contact page). I’d actually love to get some input from the current crop of celeb fans (like Beliebers and Directioners and whatnot), but I realize that the chance that any of them read my blog is a bit slim. Might try Twitter.

Of course, if you wish to remain anonymous, you shall. Just… thank you in advance for helping me on this.

You know… thinking about C has left me quite nostalgic. It’s ten years ago. Ten fucking years. I’m 21 now and I wonder what happened to him. But also, I kinda don’t. It seems that he’s the one crush I’ve managed to move on from and forget at the same time.

Ten fucking years.

Back then…. fuck. Best not to be nostalgic. Best not to look back. It was the start of a dark period. One which I’d like to close off. In fact, I’m doing just that, right now. With this project, I’m closing off.

And it will be good for me.

 

The Making of The Plans, The Doing of the Deeds

~

Yesterday I had a migraine attack. Well, I’m not sure if it was actually migraine. It was most likely a tension headache originating in my neck. I’ve been tense for a while now, but I shan’t bore you with details on the why and what. Instead, I’ll entertain you with what I figured out last night.

I had a bit of a meltdown. But in hindsight, it was just what I needed to come to an enlightening conclusion.

So, my dear and lovely (and sexy) reader. Let me spell out what I (hope) to achieve in the next 10-12 months.

First of all, I’m in the midst of arranging my next trip to London/Bristol (for Eroticon, which you’ll hear more about soon). If all goes well, I should be leaving on the 1st of March. I hope that I can arrange to stay till the 15th, after the semi-finals of the Erotic Awards, where I offered to volunteer.

I’ve been asked to read along with the ladies of Filthy Mouths and Evil Tongues on the 24th. As much as it pains me, I think I’m going to have to let it slide for this time. Really, I’m fucking crying over this. I’d love to do it in the future though.

But I’ll be back for the next Erotic Meet. And I’m hoping that by the end of April, I can stay in London.

This has an underlying reason.

See, there’s this course that I really want to do. I may have mentioned this before, but I’m a huge film fanatic. Or at least, I was before some nasty stuff happened. A few nights ago, I clocked this course called ”Introduction to Film”. And I really, really fucking want to take it. If not for learning, but for indulging something I’ve been keeping on the backburner for a while now.

Seeing that this course is on a Friday, I might have to miss out on Erotic Meet a bit… but no worries. I can always grab a cab, make it there later. And I’ll be fully prepped for the Olympics and our Big Thing…

All the while, I’ll be working on a Thing. Two Things in fact. One is a novel. The other is a book which I’ll explain in an upcoming post.

I’m supremely excited about this second thing. It’ll need some researching and some soulsearching, but I really fucking love the idea. I don’t care if it’s been done before, I just want to take it and run.

Lastly, the blog is sliding into its one year anniversary. I’ll do my thank you thingies on Wednesday, the actual day. I’ve been planning changes for this website in the coming months. For instance, I’d love to be self hosted and have a few subdomains, so I can keep fiction and life seperate.

I’m also thinking of other stuff to do. But that would require me to actually get off my ass and go to a cinema (the Other Stuff To Do would be movie reviews).

This all sounds lovely. But I seem to be avoiding my thingy… what is it… oh yeah… writing erotica. Don’t worry, I’ll be writing plenty more of that. But I seem to have some gripes with the genre that I can’t get over. I need to talk to some people about it, because it’s grating me.

So. Plans have been made. Now, deeds need to be done. I can’t tell you how excited I am for the next few months! You’ll be hearing all about it, I guess. Because… I might be in this for the long haul. It might not always be about sex. But hey, life in itself can be pretty fucking sexy!

Call me the child that survived