Sex in the world between worlds

I was going to see him two weeks ago but I cancelled because of personal stuff going on in my life. Things I didn’t want to burden our date with.
To me our time together is sacred.

Yet I informed my lover Mr.Big on what was going on, the reason I was cancelling my date.
Which was a rarity already!
We never speak to each other about what’s going on in our lives.
We don’t have to. I usually share everything with the world, through these blog posts. And he just keeps his thoughts to himself. Sometimes I inquisitively poke his mind, knowing very well he’ll kick me out.
.
So two weeks ago I did share the story about what was going in my life but it didn’t bring us closer together or anything. It was a confirmation that it was a good thing that we kept our affair so clean of drama.
Our dates were places of magic.

A realm where we were “only” lovers, and had been for the last four years.
Yet I never counted on this world to keep on existing. 
Even when he’d ask me out on a date, it could still go either way. 

Somewhere in the first year I had discovered that the chance that he would one day friend-zone me, was a lot higher than the risk he would ever fully break-up with me.
But this also made it more complicated to know where I was standing. And the past 6 to 8 weeks, had been particularly straining. I had effectively ignored the gnawing insecurity of not knowing where I stood.
But it had been there in the back of my mind none the less.
All the way through the entire holiday season.

I had no idea if we were still on, or if he had another lover and if that was a reason to stop having sex with me.  Or maybe he wanted to save his marriage, and that required his full attention.
Maybe our dates would only be in cafes and other public places, from now on. Away from the seclusion of his apartment, the heart of our affair.

In retrospect I had been taking a huge risk, breaking our code of silence around our personal affairs on a moment where I had no idea what my status was.
Yet on our date, the newly scheduled one, I dressed nicely and I was looking forward to it like crazy. I seemed to be absolutely certain we were still on, even though I had no proof to back it up.
We had a lovely date, and he laughed at my uncertainty.
I drank wine, even though I have stopped drinking. It added to the feeling of otherworldliness, like a shamanistic experience where you drink a hallucinating beverage to travel across.

I was invited to come over to his house, and we had lovely sex. So new, almost uncomfortable even. But it made it extra special.
As if we really were two different people every time, in an ever changing relationship.
When I took a condom from his pack, I didn’t count or estimate if he had used them without me. When I went to the bathroom to clean up and I threw our condom in the bin, I didn’t look for traces of other women who might have been there recently. I even noticed a feeling somewhere between jealousy and excitement and became aware that I had chosen this insecurity.
That I liked the thrill of being chosen over and over, instead of being
the only one.

If there really was or had been someone else, I didn’t have to know the details because Mr.Big gave me the only thing that mattered: His full attention.
He was the perfect lover, in the perfect place:
Our world between worlds. 

<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

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Where the operatic section comes in

Monday morning and hell did I have a memorable weekend! 
I watched too much porn, became a vegetarian, (and the two were related, believe it or not!) got an agent, and saw Bohemian Rhapsody for the eleventh time on a way bigger screen.
A friend even pointed out something I managed to miss the previous ten times:
When Freddie Mercury pitches his record to a gay radio host named Kenny, his girlfriend watches them talk and have fun.
My friend whispered:
“Now she sees it.”
Yes!
How did I miss?
The moment his girlfriend Mary realizes Freddie Mercury is gay, was missed by me the first ten times.
Usually Sunday afternoon’s Bohemian Rhapsody is sold out, so I was surprised we could even get in.
But the art house theater was showing it in their multi-functional space (not a dedicated movie theater), with a way bigger screen.
I think they were so sick and tired of selling No every Sunday they were like:
“Okay! That’s it! We’re going XXL!”
It was a much bigger audience than usual, and the first time people were engaged in the movie. With laughs and ohs and ahs.
It was so contagious that I even had to laugh (inaudibly!) before the last joke of the movie.
The band is waiting in their trailer for Live Aid, and Mary and her boyfriend David have just dropped by to say hello. They’ve left now.
“What do we think of David?” Freddie Mercury asks.
The rest of the band are slightly embarrassed but one of them utters:
“He seems like an okay chap.”
Freddie Mercury sighs.
“I think he’s gay.”
Seeing the movie was illustrative for my weekend:
I didn’t expect to be surprised. And yet I was.
I thought I knew what was coming. And then I didn’t.
I thought I knew the joke, and that it would prohibit me from laughing.
I was wrong on all accounts.
That’s how I Alice in Wonderlanded myself through this vegetarian-porn-agent-movie-weekend. Walking a fine line between love and hate; Thrown between surprise and setback; And uncertain if things were either great opportunities or if I was signing my own downfall.
And if there even was a difference, for us writers?
Or is the risk of it going wrong (in a worldly sense), a characteristic of it being the right choice for a creative?

Here were this weekend’s questionable vegetarian-porn-agent choices:

vegetarian porn

About two weeks ago I saw a simple but totally hot porn clip. It was on Twitter, and it featured a tattooed guy and a petite brunette.
That was all I had to go on, to search for it.
Unless you think it helps to start a search on “rapey sex” on Twitter.
I don’t even want to know what shows up if you do that.

And it wasn’t useful to check the timelines of the porn actors I follow either, first of all because there are so many. And secondly, because I recall this clip not being posted by someone I follow.
Most likely it was a tweet from a performer or porn account I ultimately chose not to follow.
And I didn’t even “like” the tweet with the clip either.
Which was costing me dearly, because otherwise I could have browsed my “liked tweets” list!
But I never “like” (mark with a heart) porn clips on Twitter, because they show up in the TLs of people who follow you.
I think it’s funny and slightly rebellious, that my followers see recommendations such as:
“LS Harteveld follows” over a tweet with double penetration.
But I m too shy, or suave, or maybe too much of a flat-out liar to then actually like that tweet.
Well worse!
I do like it, as in the feelings I have towards it!
But then I don’t reward the video with a like-heart, because I don’t want people to see I watched it.
And this weekend that cowardice behavior came back with a vengeance!
Because I was still thinking about the clip, masturbated to it and everything.
I was getting slightly panicky at the thought of how difficult it was going to be to find it back.
In the unlikely event you think you can help me, here are the specs:
– video about two people fucking, in a bed, poorly lit. Missionary with petite long-haired brunette and a big tattooed guy on top covering her mouth with his hand.
It was this feature with the hand, that gave the video it’s fascinating rapey, non-consensual, appeal. The reason I m still determined to mine through Twitter until I find it.
– length: 1 minute or so
– visual: black and white/ or very dark. As if “the abuse” takes place at night, and is shot by a clandestine camera.
Don’t worry, the man gets off from her and she sits up. They’re probably going to change position, and the camera sways more towards the end of the bed.
And there were other signs too, that it was regular porn and not something creepy. For example, he doesn’t cover her mouth for “real”, just occasionally.
That’s the description of the clip I have been searching for.
So far I ve spent six hours total I think, trying to retrieve it.
I started with the Twitter account of one brunette porn star, going through her TL until Christmas last year, and I would note down Twitter names of other female actors who fit the profile and of tattooed actors I saw in the videos.
With some accounts it took me half an hour, to browse back for one month.
I don’t have my computer at home, due to a set of boring circumstances all elaborately explained in previous blogposts.
So I had to do it on my phone.
Up to half an hour per actor, and clicking any clip that didn’t provide a screenshot (so I didn’t know what it was).
Saturday night I went to sleep feeling totally wasted from four hours of porn browsing on my phone. I felt like that princess from Rumpelstiltskin where she gets impossible sorting assignments.
If evil Rumpelstiltskin had offered to help me out, I would have taken it.
I went to sleep and had a dream so heartbreaking and awful, I woke up a vegetarian. And I think it had to do with the timeline from the last porn star I had been browsing: A buff tattooed male vegan actor, who tweeted about animal rights in between porn videos.
I did not even watch the animal rights things.
But apparently I didn’t even have to, in order to be sent off on a guilt-trip dream.
So the story now is that porn made me a vegetarian.
Which is a good story.
And I ve decided I will write about what I dreamed.
So if you don’t want to read it, just like I didn’t want to watch or read the animal rights tweets in the actor’s timeline, then just skip to the next paragraph.
(…)
(…)
Okay, so the dream that made me a vegetarian was this:
I was in the meat department of a very fancy supermarket, or it was a huge buffet with refrigerated sections.
On one place a baby donkey the size of a rabbit was lying on ice, but it was still alive/ breathing.
Which was of course horrible.
But while I was still trying to get my head around to what I was seeing here, I noticed another donkey on a silver platter. It was the height of a Jack Russell, maybe slightly smaller, and it was trying to get up onto its hooves.
The slippery surface of the silver platter nearly made that impossible, but it kept on trying.
Ultimately the miniature donkey succeeded, and walked off. Straight to the foal on the ice. It pulled it off, and started licking it to life, but the baby donkey had stopped breathing.
I woke up and decided I would never eat meat again.

The threat of a real job

This weekend was the first time, I went out again with the man who had arranged a job for me last summer. I can’t remember how much I told him about why I had pulled out of applying for the job.
But from the barely hidden eagerness to hire me again, as soon as I would find out I wouldn’t be able to make a living from writing, I concluded that either he wanted me dead, or I had actually failed to mention that the job offer had made me suicidal.
I ve even put myself under doctor supervision, so that if I get suicidal again under the threat of having to work a normal job, my doctor knows my recent medical history.
In response to our date, I developed pain in my chest again.
And I had basically already decided that this was insane, and that I wasn’t going to see him again, until I realized that keeping him around was actually a good thing.
Because my situation is still stressful. I m not out of the danger zone of becoming suicidal.
Not at all.
But it does look and feel that way because I have enough money to not work for a while and to publish my books. But after that my position is exactly the same as it was summer 2018.
And UNLESS I come up with a way to earn money, I will have to accept a job and become unhappy in it. Or kill myself because I don’t want to live if I can’t do my own thing, and writing is banished to the evening hours.
He is a walking talking threat of the life I have to live if I fail.
It’s like what Frodo saw in the mirror of Galadriel, the nightmarish vision of hobbits enslaved in the Shire.
“I know what it is you saw, ” Galadriel says.
“For it is also in my mind. It is the future, Frodo.
It is what will come to pass if you should fail.
If Frodo fails to destroy the ring, his people will be enslaved by Sauron.
If I fail to make a living writing books, I will be enslaved by a normal job.
A thought that still makes me suicidal.
But fully awake!
Having a friend who triggers my fear of a normal job, keeps me in touch with 2018. With how horrible I felt, and what is at stake here.
To succeed or die.
“Even” if the last one might “only” mean spiritually.

The Agent

I had already decided that I wasn’t going to do regular PR for my books. No TV, no radio, but most of all; no hassle to getting booked.
After I ve published the four books I m currently working on, my daily activities will be:
1. Write a blog post.
2. Make a video.
3. Daily sales and finance.
And that’s it.
If I would be invited to speak somewhere, that would have to be leisure time because my work day is already full.
My YouTube and my daily blog would be my PR, and nothing else.
But then my friend and me got into this brainstorm session about her future and my future, and before I had actually thought about it, I said:
“Well, if it appeals to you, you could be my manager. Get me speaking gigs and everything. And you would get us a good deal.”
Her eyes started glowing with excitement.
Me opening up to the idea of speaking as a way to making a living, was due to (or thanks to) the other professional friend, breathing down my neck.
As well as the realization that I would probably actually like speaking!
I have an authentic vision and message, on many, many things.
Yoga, sex, purpose, happiness.
Men, #metoo, power, manipulation and how to get away with it.
You can ask me pretty much anything, and I will give you an answer you have never thought of before.
And aside from me liking speaking, and my spiritual or physical suicide waiting for me if I fail to make a living for myself, there was a third reason why having a manager and getting into public speaking spoke to me.
Because public speaking is related to making a name for myself as a writer.
Whereas a consultancy job clearly isn’t.
And a fourth reason our collaboration spoke to me, was that every time I thought about needing someone to grow my business, I had discarded the plans because i didn’t want to run the risk of being scammed by corrupt managers or anything.
Whereas my friend is professional, but fair.
I ve worked with her in the past, and our friendship has survived something in our business relationship going sour, because both of us could see the conflict was just unforeseen circumstances combined with a conflict of interest.
Not because either one of us was trying to scam the other.
She’s one of the few people I can trust blindly.
And even if my friend becoming my manager and agent, would go horribly wrong, it would still make a hell of a story.

Because although I just spent the weekend eye-to-eye with death, am wasting countless hours searching for porn on Twitter, and might blow up a friendship by getting in business together;
The worst path I could possibly choose to becoming a 7-figure Rock Star Writer, is the one with nothing worth writing about. 

<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

About this blog

Where the operatic section comes in is Chapter 25 of my diary 7-figure Rock Star Writer

Follow on Facebook or Twitter,
NEW connect on Linkedin

My diaries en erotica are available at 
my BOOK SHOP
25% discount on all prices
If you check your cart, you can select your store
f.e. Nederland or United States
with the flag in the upper right corner.

new books

I m currently working on publishing my latest books:
1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2018
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- verhalen over mannen, macht en dagjes uit (Dutch)

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready is to follow this blog, 7-Figure Rock Star Writer.
The subscription button is somewhere on this page, probably on the right.

Sex on Kairos time

I m here, on a Thursday, behind my desk, and I ve just spent the first two hours of my day on an eclectic combination of sorting my Deleted Emails box (yeah, don’t ask!), texting with a friend, reading motivational blogs, and studying articles on the Greek concept of Kairos;
A concept of time when you’re totally absorbed in the moment. 
Time-less-ness.
Awareness of Now and non-awareness of Self.

The time of creativity and breakthroughs.
I know Kairos time from when I’m writing, when I can go on for hours without food and am totally absorbed by my work. But I also know it from spending time with my lover. After four years, 
two hours with him still feel like an eternity.
A heightened awareness of every second.

I intended to write about Kairos, this unruly brother of our linear chronological time.
Until I realized I had nothing to say, or nothing new. There is so much out there already, on Chronos (or Kronos) versus Kairos.
This is the best description I have found:

Kronos is mechanistic and deterministic, time that is ruled by the dead hand of the past. Kronos devours us with remorseless certainty. Kronos turns life into stone.

Kairos is creative and serendipitous.
Kairos is time that is energized by the living dream of the future and presents us with unlimited possibility. Kairos turns fate into destiny.

~Lonnie Kliever, Artellamagazine, 2003. 

The other reason I didn’t want to write about Kairos after all, was because I had connected it to my daily writing;
On weekdays, I start the day by writing a blog post and it will go on until it’s done. This could be ninety minutes of writing, or eight hours.
I was incredibly proud of being able to say that!
“I m on Kairos time! Blog posts will go on for as long as the have to!”
* belching laughter *
But this morning that same Kairos time showed me that it’s not that simple. That maybe I want to study, or clear-out my Inbox. And that although I know that all those “Don’t procrastinate!” warnings, and even the “Eat two frogs every morning!” success rule (know that one?), have never proven to be useful to me, STILL!, I felt slightly embarrassed that I spent this morning not writing.
Not eating frogs.
Doing nothing productive.
And then I felt even more embarrassed because I knew it was only a sign that I was a slave to Chronos thinking. Even I, had no idea what Kairos time was really about.
Even I, could not accept that Kairos time starts with not having plans on what should be done. It starts with creating space for things to happen. For things to unfold. And also with a tuning in. With above.
Because Kairos is 
also called God’s Time, divine time. The idea that things will happen when they need to happen, and that it is your duty to create space, so you can be led.
In the first week of January, I started writing a sex book, offline. 

And at the risk of being blasphemous, talking about God and this topic in one blog post, I would like to refer to it.
So the book was about sexual non-consent play.
And it fucked with my head so much, that it destabilized my life within 7 days. Nice religious reference here, but it really was 7 days of uncreating, and unbalancing.
I decided to drop the project and go back to online writing.
But I remember the shocking conclusion of the last chapter I wrote.
It was that everything from the power play to the play-rape;
To the sexual acts that I find intriguing or which I downright love;
Were not nearly as deviant or strange I thought them to be.
I even concluded that non-consensual play with my lover, easily qualified as my most spiritual side.

You know why?
Because it is completely in the moment.
When you’re playing on the boundaries of non-consent, you’re both fully engaged in what’s going on. You can’t go through the moves, you can’t rely on what you did last time.
Our consent play teleports us to a magical place, where it’s just the two of us, but even we are different here.
Him and me, we’re not our usual selves. We’re filled with potential, with everything we can be, everything we want to be.
But most of all, it’s such an otherworldly experience because we are aware of the NOW.
We really are suddenly on Kairos time.

Wild and unruly.

<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

About this blog

Sex on Kairos time is Chapter 24 of my diary 7-figure Rock Star Writer

Follow on Facebook or Twitter,
NEW connect on Linkedin

My diaries en erotica are available at 
my BOOK SHOP
25% discount on all prices
If you check your cart, you can select your store
f.e. Nederland or United States
with the flag in the upper right corner.

new books

I m currently working on publishing my latest books:
1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2018
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- verhalen over mannen, macht en dagjes uit (Dutch)

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready is to follow this blog, 7-Figure Rock Star Writer.
The subscription button is somewhere on this page, probably on the right.

Hacking Happiness. For good. | Purpose Church with LS Harteveld

Before we begin, let me get one thing clear.
The term “Purpose Church” is not my invention.
It’s from a coach called Katrina Ruth (Icon would be a better description than coach, but okay) whose Facebook page you can find here.
She uses the term Purpose Church for when her live streams get into preacher mode. She even has a banner hashtag PurposeChurchwithKat, which she may or may not choose to put up before she presses “Go live”.
But even more than borrowing the title Purpose Church from her,
my entire happiness hack would not have even existed, if I had not been diligently reprogramming my mind since December 2016, using her YouTube, her daily blog, and her paid programs.
I will credit myself for doing the WORK, but it was Katrina consistently showing up on social media to preach to the peoples, that allowed me to do so.
Because not doing the work, when Katrina Ruth is showing up every day, to give you anything you need to make your life a success, FOR FREE?
That’s almost rude.
Really.
If you feel a click with her, anyway.
So my first two reasons for bringing up Katrina Ruth are because I borrowed her term Purpose Church, and because I credit her consistent presence on social media for shaping me into the person I am today.
But there is a third one.
And that is because I m beginning to see that the difference between being happy and powerful, or frustrated and confused, is two things;
1.  an awareness of power dynamics, and conflicts of interest in ALL relationships.
2.  having purpose
But that’s theory.
In practice it is only one:
PURPOSE
Once you have purpose, you can drop studying power dynamics, because you’ll be so fired up pushing your own agenda, you simply don’t have time to put up with your employer signing you up for mandatory morning group chants.
An obsession to lose weight.
Be good.
Be accepted in any way.
Instead you’ll be like: “I have better things to do.”

Lately I ve come into contact with the work of two philosophers, Menno de Bree and Carl Cederström. 

Life for beginners | Menno de Bree | TEDxGroningen

Becoming optimized, from happiness to productivity | Carl Cederstrom&Andre Spicer | TEDxBratislava

The striking similarity between the two talks, and also the talk of Carl Cederström I attended yesterday in Lux Nijmegen, is how our desire to be successful in our work, makes us manipulable.
Our employers are using our pursuit of happiness – which we are translating as the pursuit of a fulfilling job – to make us internalize their productivity goals.
Menno De Bree states that because we are using our jobs to succeed on a personal level, if we lose our job, we don’t just have an economic problem, we have an existential problem.
We mistake how valuable we are at work, for how valuable we are are as humans. 

What I m stating here is that PURPOSE is the answer to becoming less manipulable at our work. And also to develop ourselves, be authentic, and yes, happy!
Purpose is the missing link in all problems regarding the pursuit of happiness.
And it’s not even half as complicated as you might think.
Purpose makes happiness surprisingly easy to attain, and not
mysterious at all.

Let me first illustrate how purpose will make you more defiant in the workplace.

the Workplace and purpose

There’s two scenarios, here.

The first is that your purpose lies within your job.
In this case, purpose will help you defend yourself towards an overbearing employer.
You’ll easily ward off the next employee program giving it a firm:
“I’ve got better things to do.”
Purpose within your career makes you pretty much immune for any trick the employer tries to pull on you.
It reminds me of Winston Churchill in The Darkest Hour, telling the king their weekly meeting could not be in the afternoon, because he needed to nap.
“Is that even allowed?” the king asked.
“I don’t think so,” Churchill replied. “But I m afraid it’s absolutely nessecary.”
Winston Churchill was an alcoholic, a workaholic, and he was the only thing that was standing between England and Hitler.
He didn’t have time for formalities.

The second scenario is that your purpose is not within your work, but outside of your work. Your salary is paying for your purpose.
In this case you’ll just do whatever you need to do to keep your job. You may find ways to make work less annoying or even enjoyable.
Yet “all” it will ever be, is a way to finance your real life, your purpose.
It prevents you from being manipulable by an employer, nor will you easily be swayed by the popular idea that happiness revolves around an authentic career in the first place.
An example would be if you have a job, but you’re also a YouTuber. Every night you have just enough time to make a new video, edit and upload.
Working late would mean you can’t film.
Since you took the job, because it allowed you to be a YouTuber – you will hard limit here.
Because your job is there to support the purpose.
The purpose is not there to support the job.

In both cases having purpose protects you from society or your employer injecting THEIR agenda into you.
If you don’t have a purpose, you re walking around with this huge hole in your soul, that will be filled by the first one coming close.
Not having a purpose is the most dangerous way anybody can live, because it makes you susceptible to anything from becoming a personal development junkie, to getting entangled in an organizational web, and even to joining terrorist organizations. 
In my opinion, not having purpose is the root of all evil, including unhappiness.
Which brings me to the question I promised I d answer for you:
How do we get purpose?

Purpose made simple

The dreaded word right? PURPOSE?
Elizabeth Gilbert points out in her book Big Magic, how intimidating the word Passion is – which is similar to purpose.
And she also gives a wonderful solution!
She states that if you have a passion, you’re probably already following that.
So her advice is for the people who don’t know what their passion is.
(don’t know what their purpose is…)
She gives passion in its earliest stages, a new name:
Curiosity.
Just forget about an all consuming passion and instead do tiny things that spark joy.
At a time in her life when Elizabeth Gilbert didn’t feel any passion, she bought some herbs for her garden. And then she started studying how she could take care of them.
A few years later, she had written an entire novel about a botanist.
Her curiosity had become a new passion project.
This doesn’t mean that curiosity doesn’t have any value, if you drop the subject.
Curiosity are miniature adventures, that may or may not end up being great adventures or passions. It’s all okay.

The similarity between Elizabeth Gilbert studying herbs;
The YouTuber filming every night;
And even Winston Churchill saving the country;
Is that they would all still be doing it, if no one paid them.

The things you do without getting paid, are the key to your happiness.

can you answer these questions?

Question 1:
What are the things you would want to do, watch, or undertake,
about which you have little to no knowledge or experience?

That is your curiosity.

Question 2:
What are the things you like doing, which you would still be doing if no one paid you? If there was no outcome, if they never became monotizable or if they stopped making you money?

That is your passion.

Question 3:
What is the thing that deeply fulfills you, and that you would go through great lengths to still do even when it would start costing (more) money, time, friendships, hours sleep, and unexpected setback would make it hard?

Now THAT my friend, is your purpose.

And happiness?
That is the feeling of deep fulfillment of living a life based on curiosity, on passion or on purpose.

And you may end up saving an entire nation while you re at it.

<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

About this blog

Hacking Happiness. For good. | Purpose Church with LS Harteveld
is Chapter 23 of my diary 7-figure Rock Star Writer

Follow on Facebook or Twitter,
NEW connect on Linkedin

My diaries en erotica are available at 
my BOOK SHOP
25% discount on all prices
If you check your cart, you can select your store
f.e. Nederland or United States
with the flag in the upper right corner.

new books

I m currently working on publishing my latest books:
1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2018
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- verhalen over mannen, macht en dagjes uit (Dutch)

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready is to follow this blog, 7-Figure Rock Star Writer.
The subscription button is somewhere on this page, probably on the right.

 

Let’s cut the crap shall we? { Notes from the publishing room }

I remember last Tuesday, when I was getting myself all setup and ready to start my 21 day book publishing SPRINT in my new temporary residence, only to find out the Wifi wasn’t working. I jokingly remarked on social media;
“Apparently Life wants me to have a  three week holiday instead.”
The wit of someone who has lost one workday.
I moved my computer to my mother’s house and could still crack jokes about it.
However, after I lost the second workday to personal circumstances;
A third vaporized due to unforeseen things and an appointment  I’d already made;
And I lost my Friday to an early morning mechanic from the contractor (I have escaped renovations in my own apartment – but in this temporary house they have some relatively minor renovations too);
And I was called by the cable company after I had just finished coffee at my mom’s house, and had to come home again?
I wasn’t in the mood for jokes anymore.
Of course I was happy the cable company had finally switched gears after three days, and was coming over to check things out. The main cable, buried under the pavement, turned out to have been damaged. This had not been one of those reset your modem thingies.
But as I was packing my bag yet again, breaking off the last workday of the week before it had even started, I cursed for having made Tuesday’s smart-ass remark that I now had a three week holiday:
“I WAS ONLY JOKING!”
And before that incredible, utterly non-productive week, I had already “wasted” the first week of my 30 day sabbatical, because of an unexpected turn of events.
There I had been.
Offline.
30 Days all to myself, to go publish my books and to write offline about a highly personal subject: My sexual preference for playing rough, like play rape or other role playing games.
I wanted to write my book on sexual consent play offline.
It blended in with the 30 day publishing sabbatical, but I also wanted to write it offline to ensure I would go all in. And to not hold anything back because I was afraid to publish/post/share it through a blog.
I published a carefree chapter; A boyfriend like Jon Bongiovi An analysis of my sexuality as a teen.
But for the other chapters of my offline project, I dove into my mind, and did deep soul searching. I was eager! It felt like I was closing in on something.
Until I realized what I was closing in on, was ME.
Writing this book was like pushing myself towards a cliff.
It was a rude awakening, and I stopped immediately.
2018 was the first time in my life I have ever felt suicidal, and I know now all of it is related;
– the week of non-consensual soul searching that destabilized me
– the recurring nights awake due to stress
– the constant crying
– my heart complaints
– last year’s suicidal thoughts, for the first ever time in my life.
Even losing an entire week due to renovations, moving house and wifi problems is ultimately just a sign of not having your head straight. If you re focused as fuck – you WILL do the work regardless of what life throws at you.
But the good news is, I now understand all of these things are caused by the same causes. And more importantly, will most likely become manageable once I have stabilized my life.
By NOT searching deeply into my soul.
Stick with fixed working hours.
Have weekends off.
And to be very cautious to ever touch the subject of consent play again.
Just to illustrate why I m being so careful: Last Friday, when I started this blog post, I added a chapter from my book on consent play.
How could that hurt right?
I mean, it wasn’t even sexual.
So I copied, pasted, edited, rewrote. And although I blamed not finishing on not having enough time, I knew it was something else.
That including the chapter in this post was making me sick.
It was, is, still destabilizing me.
I need to give up on the book on sexual consent play. I don’t want to, because I felt blessed that I had been “given” such an interesting topic to write about. And at a point in my life when I thought my life would be editing and publishing my old books.
Meh. Boring!
So ungrateful to toss it aside.
But this topic has already cost me a week of writing, and it has totally derailed me.
I go between thinking I will pick it up in the future, when I m bored or so stable I need some serious excitement. And thinking that maybe I don’t want to.
That maybe the trick with my writing, is that it NEEDS TO BE ABSOLUTELY FREE.
I can’t write a book limiting myself beforehand that “this and this” is going to be the topic. And in particular not when the topic is sexual consent play (or should I say non-consent play?). The topic is too heavy, too political.
Maybe there is a reason nobody investigates consent play, and that it’s being brushed off with “it being really normal for women to have rape fantasies”.
Maybe that really is all you can say about it, without going mad.
At least for me.

<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

I m back! 

Let’s cut the crap shall we? is Chapter 22 of my diary 7-figure Rock Star Writer

It marks the ending of my brave but stupid attempt to not blog, and to take a 30 day sabbatical in order to publish my books.
Because after two weeks I can see that the time freed up by not blogging, up to 7 hours a day, was not spent publishing my books. Instead it just drew in drama, meltdowns and unforeseen circumstances.

So I ll be back blogging, and also still publish my books.
These are:
1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2018
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- verhalen over mannen, macht en dagjes uit (Dutch)
The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready is to follow this blog. 
The subscription button is somewhere on this page, probably on the right.

Or follow on Facebook or Twitter,
NEW connect on Linkedin

My diaries en erotica are available at 
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25% discount on all prices
If you check your cart, you can select your store
f.e. Nederland or United States
with the flag in the upper right corner.

 

Becoming friends { notes from the publishing room }

real footage of befriending process

I’m here in my temporary office, at my mother’s house. I haven’t touched my computer in days, and it’s scaring me.
My mother asked me what my plans were for today  -I m only working for two hours – and I said:
“To become friends with my computer.”
My hands are shaking, I woke up with a headache, and I have no idea where to begin.
My last entry was on my phone.
A Facebook post where I explained why plans had changed. Which ultimately led to even more time offline, due to personal circumstances which I won’t share.
Anyway, before all that – here’s what I wrote last Tuesday:
Sweethearts, this is not how I planned all this, moving in and out of sabbatical.
NOR did I plan for this final post to be a Facebook text instead of a proper blog.
A phone typed English-only thing without spelling check;
Eventhough (should have been 2 words) I planned on writing an English and Dutch blog tomorrow.
But I can’t.
In short two things happened which threw me offtrack within a 30 day writing & publishing sabbatical.
Firstly, the book I was writing offline fucked with my head. Which is wild. Just not when you need your head in order to publish 4 books.
Then you need to write one skin-deep, super high vibe 90 minute blogpost just to start the day.
Which was the plan.
But then the 2nd thing happened; I moved to a temporary house for 3 weeks while my own house is being renovated.
But in the first week they will have heating and window renovations here as well AND the wifi not doing what it’s supposed to.
So I spent today making arrangements to save at least some of my 21 Artist In Residence days, and succeeded. I have my work place set up somewhere nice, with heating, windows, wifi. Can t wish for anything more.
But it s not my home.
I can t work my unlimited working hours there.
I have to plan them, by block.
And will work 2-6 hours maximum, every day.
Which means;
No more writing babe.
Publishing smack down every hour I can muster.
Every time block GO ALL IN.
Back Thursday February 7.
The book I was writing which I was referring to (which drove me mad) was called “Playing No. Diary of submissive non-consent fantasies” And it was “wild” indeed. So philosophical.
If I have other days where I can’t work, for example because my computer scares me, I ll reblog the chapters I want to save.
But the book itself?
No.
Maybe it’s because – just like the mistress topic – writing about this aspect of my sex life is more an ongoing thing. Something to study while writing a blog, instead of writing it offline.
My main reason for wanting to write offline was to go deep into the material. But as a result my life was completely destabilized within a week. The relative shallowness of blogging your work, which means immediately sharing what you’ve written, is actually a blessing for me.
It ensures that I don’t cut too deep!
That I don’t jump into the void just for the sake of it, only to resurface a week later, realizing I actually lost an entire week’s worth of work and not gained anything, except for a learning experience.
What I’m doing today – working behind my computer, reading emails, things that scare me! – is actually opposite to the approach that brought me the meltdown.
I’m now coasting, where I was jumping in.
“Becoming friends” is derived from a tactic they use in soccer, related to the youngest children. I used to date a soccer coach, and he explained what the different learning goals were for the junior teams.
And the smallest children, I think they were 4 or 5 years old, were just there to “become friends with the ball”.
I ve always remembered that. Or at least tried to remember it, for times like this when something is intimidating, and all you feel is guilt and shame for how far you could have been, should have been, IF ONLY you had not dropped out of it.
But yesterday (Wednesday) I also couldn’t work because of the unexpected setback in my personal life. It had cost me a night’s sleep and it took all my remaining foggy brainpower to work through it.
Now I have an understanding as to why it happened and what the things were, which needed to be figured out anyway.
But after losing Monday to the move into my new temporary apartment, Tuesday to setting up my office, it not working, relocating the whole thing to here; AND Wednesday to personal drama?
That’s three days in a row!
For a writer/ book publisher who was already still recovering from her one week offline book writing meltdown, it was bad timing to say the least.
And why I m now starting at the most basic level.
Becoming friends with my computer.
I have two more goals;
– open an email which I don’t know what’s in it, and from someone I have in high regard.
– go to one of my blogs and copy/paste/harvest at least one post, and paste it into my archive in order to create it into a book. Just so that I ve gone through the moves today at least once; Select with mouse. Copy. Go to Word. Paste.
But first coffee…..
Okay, I enjoyed some procrastination time on Twitter and have a cup of coffee here. Deep breath. Going to open the email.

Spent ten minutes deleting and filing other emails. To take the scare off of it. Now I m going to open IT.

Oh it was really lovely. It was from someone whom I admire deeply, and he makes me blush, although I have no idea if he knows that.
Maybe he does.
Now, I m going to do my copy-paste thing.

Done!
*publishes post Becoming Friends*
Mission accomplished.

<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

Start 30 day sabbatical

Publishing friends 
is part of my posts I should not be writing because I m supposedly on a publishing sabbatical. 

After which I will have my four books ready:
1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2018
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- verhalen over mannen, macht en dagjes uit (Dutch)
The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready is to follow this blog. 
The subscription button is somewhere on this page, probably on the right.

Or follow on Facebook or Twitter,
NEW connect on Linkedin

My diaries en erotica are available at 
my BOOK SHOP
25% discount on all prices
If you check your cart, you can select your store
f.e. Nederland or United States
with the flag in the upper right corner.

Consent and creating a safe space { start 30 day sabbatical }

This is the post I thought I wouldn’t write!
This morning I got behind my desk, in order to start my new book on consent play; The part of my sexuality which I have been consciously downplaying my whole life because I thought it wasn’t good enough.
Immature.
Difficult.
Irresponsible even.
And I actually looked forward to starting fresh and leaving everything already written here on this blog, behind me. 
I would start by creating a safe place.
For myself, in the form of a 30 day sabbatical from blogging and social media. As well as for the reader, by opening with a chapter on the need to protect our sexuality.

To NOT let the big world in telling us it’s dangerous and that we’re opening the doors to being raped in real life. And that we’re at least partially responsible for all the date rapes and the #metoo victims, because our sexuality leaves too much room for interpretation.
Where BDSM is viewed by everyone as its own world with its own rules and therefore safe, our consent play takes place in the real world.
It’s not in the SM basement, using special rope and safe words.
It’s in the woods where your lover is forcing himself onto you.
Someone walking by would not know the difference between a real rape, and your play. But that doesn’t mean that your lover doesn’t know.
Or that you are mistaken.
One of the most mesmerizing concepts of BDSM for me, has been the use of safe words. And I ve heard of one woman being raped by her boyfriend, in what could have been interpreted as play-rape.
She used their safe word but was raped anyway.
She went public with her story and many women stepped forward, telling stories about him, and what he had done to them.  
This story to me implies we are all at risk of being raped, once someone doesn’t respect your boundaries. Just because you play with these boundaries, does not put you more at risk.
Nor does having a safe word mean you re safe.
It only gives you the assurance that you as a woman have done all you could to make it absolutely clear that you didn’t want it. That you were not to blame.
The only safety we have in any type of sex is this:
Connection.
The reason I always got this weird feeling about safe words, whenever we had played rough and I realized much later that we had done so not having any safe words, which is like BDSM rule number 1 – is that although I m all pro-safety, I got a feeling it was actually dangerous, to work with safe-words.
And then I realized why.
I feel if you’re with someone who is not able to read you, you shouldn’t even be with this person in the first place. To me, a deep trust and understanding between me and a lover is the basis for play. Not every man is willing, nor able, to connect with a woman on that kind of level.
To let her resist and cry, and at the same time be completely tuned in to when she is not enjoying it. That is tremendous hard work!

And skilled work too!
But to me, although I think having a safe word can never hurt, it does give me an uncomfortable feeling because it’s like you’re simplifying things that should not be simplified. 

I m still not sure if I would be able to describe the man who is able to offer this kind of play, but my estimate is that it’s not a man with a fixed preference.
He “is” not a dominant.
My estimate is that a man who’s able to be a consent-play partner is a man who loves to please women. 
A man who is actually much more versatile in his sexuality than she is.
His joy comes from pleasing her.
His power stems more from his ability to put her at ease and make her feel safe, than from having the dominant position in their play.
That is why we, submissive consent-play lovers, will be confused if men offer themselves as dominants or rough play partners. We will feel something is off here… but what is it?
I think because what I would call a “real” consent-play man is versatile. He lets her determine which game they’re going to play. And as soon as he feels her presence this is what he will do:
He ll step back.
Creating a space of pure consciousness between him and her.
It is quiet and peaceful. There are no rules there that he put up. Nor are there traces of the women before her, or ideas on what he thinks sex should be.
It’s completely blank.
He just IS there, offering the space for her to enter.
And if she does, he is still just there, quiet.

Maybe he makes her tea, cracks a little joke.
If he talks about sex he does it in relation to her. He’s interested in her, not in forcing his ideas about sex onto her.
To me, the difference between BDSM and consent play would look something like this
;
BDSM has
– rules and safe words
– a dominant partner, from the first moment 
– and a submissive who (during play) says yes and agrees. She has her safe words to indicate him to stop.
Consent play has
– no rules, but they are constantly tuned in. The couple can of course have safe words as a backup.
– a versatile dominant, who will be able to have satisfying sexual relationships with women with all kinds of preferences
-and a submissive who determines the rules, and selects her partner. But during play she says no, kicks, screams or just lets him “abuse” her because she’s supposedly too afraid and intimidated to stop. She will “act” differently, when she wants him to stop or change. For example use her normal tone of voice.
What I wanted to do today, when I started on this blank page writing my new book, is stating we, women with these preferences, have a right to explore our sexuality.

And we should be very weary getting caught up in projections of other people’s fear of abuse, and our own fears as well.
Compare it to Christian families where fear of pregnancy is used as a weapon to keep girls from experimenting.
And I grew up in the eighties: Aids warnings were intertwined with condoning sex with multiple partners.
Pregnancy warnings, as well as the hiv/aids warnings, as well as each and every tale or warning about sex, is an area where mixing in morale is almost inevitable.
Instead, every warning with regard to sex, should include – and preferably very explicitly – the following four elements: 

1. acknowledgement that you can never be a 100% safe unless you completely refrain from sex.
Therefor saying things like: “As long as you are doing it safe,” are wrong.
What you can do is say: “There is no such thing as a hundred percent safety. But can I help you in any way? Buy you condoms, or be your backup if you’re meeting a stranger? Or a talk if you feel insecure about things that happened?”
2. acknowledgement that your environment (whether viewed as high in risk or low in risk) is already largely determined by the nature of your sexuality.

Acting as if you can choose to be safe or not safe, implies that you can choose to be gay or straight, to be monogamous or have multiple partners, and ultimately also a choice between having consent-play or not.
But these things are natural preferences that will bring you in different types of situations. Even if we would agree that there are less risks when you are married (do we agree?!) it would still not acknowledge that your sex life is a reflection of your sexuality.
You can’t say “Oh, this and this sex life is the safest, I ll pick that one.”
The chances that you just picked the sex life that is honoring your sexuality, are zero.
You need to start with your sexuality, and the sex life that goes with that, will appear.
3. acknowledgement that just because something is dangerous, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it.
I remember in Africa our parents told us to never turn rocks because there could be scorpions underneath. Years later I confessed to my mother that we did turn rocks, but we ran away immediately and then slowly approached to look at what’s underneath.
She answered: “Because we had warned you, you were cautious. If we had not warned you, you would not have known.”
Warnings about dangers should never be a sign that you shouldn’t do it.
Just that you are aware of the risks.
4. acknowledgement that sex is not easy, and assurance that whatever happens, you will be loved
This is HUGE. Imagine sex education starting with this:
“Dear students,
I will not sugarcoat this for you.
Sex is probably the most complicated social activity that exists.
It requires skills like risk assessment, diplomacy, and knowing yourself.
Many powerful men and women have made mistakes that have cost them their lives. And other men and women have avoided those mistakes, but they’ve languished in loveless marriages and have been consumed by regret.
Great art has come of it. Empires have been built with it. But it has also decimated entire communities, and brought down civilizations.
Yet, the only way to learn what sexuality is, and what treasures it holds for you, is by doing it. We will prepare you, but it will barely cover 10% of what you will encounter. In reality it will be way closer to learning on the job.
And a very complicated job.
But before we begin I want you to know the most important thing.
And you may want to write this down.
You will be loved, regardless of what happens.
No matter what mistakes you make, no matter how many times you lose control or hurt yourself or someone else. As long as you can learn from what you’re doing, you will be loved.
As long as you’re willing to get better, and create more love, both for yourself and others;
You will be loved.
And if this enables you to keep studying, and to not settle for easy solutions.
But instead you keep aiming higher than anyone else has ever dared to go.
Then sex will not just give direction to your life.
But instead it will give hope and provide meaning for anyone you come into contact with.
For you will have mastered the true essence of existence.
You will have mastered love.”

<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

Start 30 day sabbatical

This blog post is the beginning of my 30 day sabbatical, in which I will be publishing my books and write my book on consent play.
I ve changed the title to Playing no. Diary of submissive non-consent fantasies
The biggest change compared to the earlier title is that I ve removed the word rape from the title, so that it’s less triggering.
And I ve made it from a guide for women into a personal diary.
Which gives me maximum freedom to write from a personal perspective and also means it will be less triggering for the reader – since I obviously don’t pretend to know what your preferences are.
I merely share mine.

I will go offline for at least 30 days.
And when I return I will have my four books ready:

1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2018
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- verhalen over mannen, macht en dagjes uit (Dutch)
and
5. Playing no. Diary of submissive non-consent fantasies
The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready is to follow this blog. 
The subscription button is somewhere on this page, probably on the right.

About this book Playing No

I have already started, since the first chapters will be based on this post and the previous 2 blog posts (To tell or not to tell and Playing no)
Tomorrow I m starting the rest of the book and I m writing it offline.
I will be writing about the non-consensual fantasies and I will also write about the different sexual acts.
The sexual acts can also be part of BDSM or normal non-role playing sex. The main characteristic of consent play is the “victim” pretending not to like it, or pretending to be in a setting where she is forced to comply.
However the acts themselves are important for me to describe.
Name and claim them.
And why they fit in so well into this play.
I have never seen these acts discussed in main stream media and this has slowed down the process of me coming to terms with who I am and what I like.
I want to write them out so that the women who read my book do see these taboo subjects written down by a fairly normal, sane, Dutch woman of 46 years old.
I want to put to paper all those fantasies that feel so good, yet I m pretty sure there are still so many negative thoughts associated with it as well.
Let’s fix that 😉 

<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

7-Figure Rock Star Writer

Consent and creating a safe place is episode 19 of my project 7-figure rock star writer  
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Connect

I m taking time off to publish my four books + to write this new book
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Playing No. A pleasure guide for women with rape and other consent fantasies

click photo for a related article in The New York Times:
Finding the Courage to Reveal a Fetish

Sometimes I think I m just as submissive to my muse, to writing, as I am as to my lovers.
That I have a basic plan in place of what we’re going to do, but if I feel the other one taking the lead, I succumb with an inappropriate eagerness that reveals that my own free will, is plan B.

That I’d rather have plan A.
Where I have nothing to say, and just have to follow his lead.
Where things are done without consulting me, or against my will, and might be painful but that is of none of their concern.

An hour ago the muse Writing, forced himself onto me with the idea for this book.
I immediately said yes.

This morning I practically wrote the introduction to this book.
The post was called “To tell or not to tell?” and it was about a conversation I had with a friend about a sex toy, which was emotionally charged for me. In a good way – it’s exciting and hot.
But I also realized I wasn’t open about that aspect of my sexuality, which the toy represented. Which is that I like role playing where things are done against my will.
This post “To tell or not to tell?” stated that I was not yet going to tell what the toy was, because I felt it was part of something bigger.
And that I wanted to wait until the full story had revealed itself.
At first I thought the toy represented my submissiveness.
But now I realize I m not submissive at all!
Instead of saying something like: “Oh please punish me master.”
I like to kick and scream: “No!”
That’s when I realized I had never heard of a term for that and decided to give it a new name.
Consent play.
This new book is that story.

Hiding in plain sight

It is a strange thing, even for me, to realize that although I thought I had been open about my sexuality, that I ve actually not been open about this at all.
There are two places where I have been hiding.
The first place is: I hide behind my relationship, which is an affair with my secret lover Mr.Big. I hide behind the sex we, as a couple, have.
Or had, I m not sure if we’re still on.
Either way, my book Big, describes us playing out many of my non-consensual sex fantasies.
But what I have mentioned only secondary, is that the fantasies belong to me. They are a part of who I am. And have always been.
Our affair was not a case of:
“Oh, we’re so crazy about each other. Now let’s spice things up with what we both like.”
Four years in, and I now have a deep understanding this was a case of:
“You have to be on my page about this. I cannot NOT do this.”
In the past I ve had boyfriends with whom I was not completely head over heels in love, as I am with my current lover. And we tried to make things work in bed.
Since the entire situation was less than ideal to begin with, not having my full sexual agenda met was no big deal.
Our sex was going to be sub-optimal anyway.
But to hook up with my secret lover Mr.Big, a successful business man in his forties, visit his apartment, and to then say; “We ll see how it goes?”
No.
Sorry.
We’ll see how it goes is available for when I m not in love, and have to do all the hard work of matching two pretty much incompatible people who want different things, by using all the social and people skills I have.
By the time we get naked I ve invested so much, I ll take that final leap and make it work all the way through.
We ll see how it goes.
But with a lover I m totally crazy about?
Then it really is going to be my way or the highway.
Either we re going for fireworks in the bedroom, with a hundred percent compatible sexual agenda. Or we’re not going through with this at all.
And a compatible agenda means you’re dominant, but not in the conventional rope/leather/master slave kind of way.
But in MY way!
Because that’s the second place I ve been hiding: Between expressions of female sexual submission. Which is basically a spectrum.
On one hand you have the soft version of female submissiveness:
Going to dinner with a vibrating egg in your pussy with your lover holding the remote.
And on the other hand, the hardcore version of BDSM, with ropes, leather, formal roles of master and slave. Or the dominant and the submissive.
I ve called my sexuality submissive on many occasions. And I still might. Yet “I” am actually nowhere to be found on this entire scale.
Not near the vanilla version, nor on the BDSM side.
My sexuality, consent play, holds closest resemblance to the rough sex you see in porn. And the rapey things a lot of men have started incorporating into their repertoire; Pinch your throat, or spit their hand and then make you wet. They push you down when you’re in doggy style, with your head in the pillow and your ass up.
All things I like.
On a pretty bitchy side note, from me: What I don’t like during sex, because it’s distracting and annoying, is spanking.
I like being spanked when we take the time to do just that.
Like take me over your knee, or bend me over the table, and you punish me. Which I don’t want at all, but you make me stand or lie there, since it is of “none of your concern” what I want.
That would be awesome! LOL
But slapping during sex is distracting.
But these are all details! Because I am thrilled to see men have gotten more aggressive in bed.
And I hear this from friends as well; There are plenty of men who can do it rough(er). Either because they know you like it, or they take an educated guess.
Or they’re completely ignorant and think all women like reenacting porn movies, that’s also an option.
But in general I think we do live in a time where as women who like it rough, it is much easier to find a partner, than it was let’s say twenty years ago.
The movies and books of 50 Shades did us the tremendous favor of normalizing the extremes of the BDSM spectrum; The soft power play like him having the remote, as well as the other extreme of owning a fully equipped red room of pain.
And porn did us the favor of normalizing rough sex.
And these three things (vanilla toy play, BDSM, and rapey sex) all have their pros and cons. But at least they’re there.
This makes it a lot easier to navigate your way through what you like and don’t like.

Coming out

In the previous paragraph I ve illustrated how I have been using both my relationship, as well as porn sex, vanilla toy sex and BDSM as ways to avoid speaking about what I really like.
Revealing the true nature of my sexuality.
I ve been so eager when people said: “Oh but it’s really normal for women to have rape fantasies.”
When I just knew my sexuality was a lot more outspoken than that.
I think my masturbation fantasies tell it all: they have been about non-consensual sex for as long as I can remember.
I also have normal, loving sex, with my lover. But I do want to remind you that we have a secret affair, which is exciting in its own right. Sometimes I wonder if I would actually be able to have normal sex if I had a man for myself.
I m afraid not.
I need it to be forbidden one way or the other.
Either way, when I look at my masturbation patterns, my preference become crystal clear.
Being a non-consensual submissive is not some optional thing to spice up my relationship. It’s the bare bones of my sexuality. I can count the times I have masturbated on normal men, and normal non-violent fantasies on one hand.
They were an effort.
An attempt to do something different.
Five times tops, in my entire life, masturbating to something different than all the degrading, disturbing, sexual fantasies I’m going to describe in this book.
And yet when someone said it/ I was entirely normal?
I was silent.

About this book

It is now Friday January 4th. 
And I have decided that I will be writing this book offline, and to then immediately print it. I will not post the individual chapters here first.
This is because of two reasons.
The first reason is unspeakably boring.

Blogging takes up a lot of time and space. A post like this takes up anywhere between 3 to 7 hours. If my plan for the upcoming month was just to write, then maybe, blogging the chapters of “Playing no. A pleasure guide for women with rape and other consent fantasies” could have worked.
But I ve been trying to get around to publishing four of my books, for months. And in January I was REALLY going to do that.
I ve already made photos and booked my graphic designer for the covers. But I m nowhere when it comes to actually doing the work of editing and creating the books.
So I can’t possibly keep blogging if I want to get serious about publishing.
I ve known that for a few weeks now but I love writing so much!
I had no idea how to go about that.
But the idea to write this book, gives me a way out.
Writing “Playing no. A pleasure guide for women with rape and other consent fantasies” will be my daily writing during the process of publishing. And then this will be the fifth book.
I suspect the cover work will be really minimal – with just me creating the cover in Paint (!!). I ve done that in 2017 as well.
I published 8 books with a design cover, but added a little pet project on female sexuality (Dutch).
Last minute.
In a similar fashion “Playing no. A pleasure guide for women with rape and other consent fantasies” will be my pet project the upcoming month.
I will go offline for at least 30 days.
And when I return I will have my four books ready:

1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2018
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- verhalen over mannen, macht en dagjes uit (Dutch)
and
5. Playing no. A pleasure guide for women with rape and other consent fantasies
The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready is to follow this blog. 
The subscription button is somewhere on this page, probably on the right.
The second reason I m not blogging this book, but writing it offline, is that this story will be my most personal story to date.
I have no interest in sharing it with people who have not made the conscious choice to acquire it.
Just like my previous pet project I will keep the selling price as low as possible, but it’s going to be paid content only.
Because of the sensitivity of the topics – including being sensitive to me – I am really giving myself that halfway version, when things are written, but not shared yet.

When the art is created, but not yet seen.
I feel this will help me to get comfortable with this part of my sexuality, which I have been hiding for so long.
I intend to write about the non-consensual fantasies itself; And I will also write about the different unconventional sexual acts.
This will make it extremely explicit and real.
Because the reason I am writing this book, is to name and claim all these “deviant” acts, as part of what we like.
Well, maybe there should not be quotation marks.
Maybe they really are deviant. I don’t know.
But I do know I have never seen these acts discussed in main stream media, and this has slowed down the process of me coming to terms with who I am, and what I like.
So I want to write them out, so that the women who read my book do see these taboo subjects written down by a fairly normal, sane, Dutch woman of 46 years old.
I want to put to paper all those fantasies that feel so good, yet I m pretty sure there are still so many negative thoughts associated with it as well.
One of the main reasons I have not shared my preference before, and hid behind orientations that were more, well “defined”, I guess, is because the fight for women’s right is an ongoing one. 
The #metoo movement, and the realization that women are still preyed upon and their rights are still violated, make it difficult to find a place in this world where your fantasies belong.
Where you belong.
But this sexual orientation is an acquired one. It is the ultimate expression of women’s rights gone right.
Because only a woman who is certain that she’s worthy, and that no one can question her rights, 
will feel drawn to the pleasure of submitting herself.
Of playing, that her rights are violated, and her body penetrated against her will. Only the one who is not a victim by any standard, will like to do it for fun.
My lover and me often made jokes about my sexual preference.
My love of being dominated, being forced into submission. 

I always have this giant smile on my face, after we’ve played.
And I remind him that within prostitution, it’s the dominants who get paid. They do all the work. And their clients are usually wealthy, powerful men, who call the shots in the real world.
Because in the end it is never the dominant, who is dominant.
It is the submissive.

<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

7-Figure Rock Star Writer

Playing no. A pleasure guide for women with rape and other consent fantasies
is episode 18 of my project 7-figure rock star writer  
The subscribe button to this diary is somewhere on this page

Or follow on Facebook or Twitter,
NEW connect on Linkedin

My diaries en erotica are available at 
my BOOK SHOP
25% discount on all prices
If you check your cart, you can select your store
f.e. Nederland or United States
with the flag in the upper right corner.

30 day sabbatical

I m taking time off to publish my four books + to write this new book
“Playing no. A pleasure guide for women with rape and other consent fantasies”
The best way to stay posted when they are ready is to follow subscribe to this blog,
follow on Facebook or Twitter,
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To tell or not to tell

charity bake sale (3)Yesterday’s candid post about my sexual preferences, blended in perfectly with my gay best friend coming over to my house.
Next to my lover Mr.Big – and years before my lover Mr.Big!- Damian is the only one who knows everything about me.

In my desire to tell someone “neutral” about my sex life, I picked him.
My gay friend.

Which was a wise choice.
In retrospect the strongest common ground is that we’re both people for whom sex is a mind game. Context is everything.
It started out with just asking him tips on anal sex, because I had no one to talk to about that and my partners were inexperienced on the matter.
They would want to try it, if I organized it. 

Which didn’t work out. You could even say that by the time I have to take the lead within a relationship, it’s downhill from there.
They say couples unconsciously keep score on who invests what. And me taking initiative with sex, is ten points off.
In theory at least.

Because I also remember a conversation Damian and me had, where I confided in him that I had been dominant in bed with a new boyfriend who was way younger than me and wanted to be dominated.
I felt it was my duty to do this. That it is basically your responsibility if you are with someone who’s not as experienced as you, that you give them what they want.
Like a sexual pay it forward.
So I played my part and he was taken against his will.

Now don’t call the police; this was all play.
But anyway, I told Damian that I actually liked abusing him, a lot more than I thought I would. He asked if he had heard this correctly:
“You didn’t know you had a dominant side?” 
And then shook his head: “I think this is what they call a blind spot.”
I ve always considered myself a bottom (gay term for being the receiving party), but I turned out to be a lot more versatile than I thought.
Either way, Damian and me have a long history of discussing sex, and he has been my main and most consistent friend on the matter.
He even remembers all my boyfriends by name, and characteristics.
Last night Damian and me had a date.
I assumed we’d meet in the city but I
 got an A.M. text from him:
“Shall I be at your place at 8? You don’t have to get us cake, because I ve had way too much of that the past couple of days.”

So no city then, and I bought us a selection of Celestial Seasons and Yogi Tea.
Our date night would break the habit of daily drinking.
Something that had been going on since way before Christmas.

I definitely would have had two glasses if our date had been in the city.
I don’t keep any alcohol at home because I don’t want to reward staying indoors. But n
ormally I would have bought wine if I had someone coming over. But I knew Damian almost never drank.
When I told him that I was so happy with our indoor-date because it broke my drinking habits, his eyes lit up. He hadn’t even thought of going to the city! And he loved the idea of going for a drink!

But yesterday we were still at my home, with lots of privacy, so that might explain why our conversation got so intimate.
He told me something that had happened that he had not told anyone. And that had caused him anxiety. 

And I showed him a sex toy I had mixed feelings about.
I thought I was cool with it but I never put it in my blog, and only two of my partners have ever known about it.

Damian and me had such a fit of laughter when I brought it out.
I actually kept it hidden, before I showed it. And probably said ridiculous things like: “You have to promise you won’t laugh!”
While practically choking with laughter myself.

So there were obviously a lot of unresolved emotions connected to it.
And probably embarrassment too.
When Damian left it made me wonder:
Should I talk about this? Write about this?

And then this morning, much to my own surprise, I decided not to.
But I figured out why I ultimately chose not to write about it.
Here’s what I found:
Being ashamed of something has power over you.
But that doesn’t mean that sharing/ being transparent will give you power.
It’s the embarrassment itself, that makes you powerless.
Not the lack of honesty or transparency. 
For example: staying in the closet if you’re gay.
If you are okay with hiding your sexuality, because it means you re more easily accepted, and you don’t offer others an opportunity to talk about something that is basically none of their business, then the closet is empowering.
Because you are consciously withholding information for your own gain.
And should your lie come out you will just say:

“Okay, busted. Tried to slip it by you.”
But on the other hand, if you are in the closet because you believe you are unlovable because of your preferences , or because you fear people withdrawing their love if you come out, then it has become a trap.
You are withholding information out of fear of losing something.
Should your lie now come out, you will feel the shame of being the way you are AND the shame of having lied.
Double trouble.
And yet, I m not 
going to tell you what I shared with Damian.
Writing about something that embarrasses me, has often been cathartic.
But I think my conversation with Damian, as well as my thoughts on this blog post (was I going to share, or not?) made me realize I m still learning here, I m fine-tuning the skill of honesty and transparency.
If you find a way to come to terms with some aspect of yourself, without having to tell anyone, you can ultimately get even more power and pleasure from it, than if you share.
I will end this blog post explaining how keeping things secret can benefit you.
But first I want to go into when it can be beneficial to tell.
And how to do it to make it so.

1. Tell

Telling your truth to the outside world can be beneficial when you are consumed by fear of some truth coming out.
It’s like ripping the band-aid.
It will hurt for a moment, but it can empower you.
There are 2 ways to do this.
Two scenarios.
Scenario 1. The Big Leap
Reveal all and stand your ground. Regardless of what’s coming your way. Ideally, you must be prepared to lose everything over this, and see it as one big test if you are actually owning this.
If you expect an outcome, and reveal all based on the premises that it won’t be that bad, that’s an awful position to be in.

I ve once heard on selling: People don’t buy your product, they buy your certainty.
Ultimately you want to be able to reveal your secret, because it is a training of you learning to be certain, regardless if people buy/ accept.
You’re opening the floodgates, because you know it will teach you how to go next level. It’s swim or drown.
Since this scenario is more public, you could imagine something like:
You start a blog, under a pen name or alias, about being gay, and dating multiple men. Or if you want to really open the floodgates you do it under your real name.
But I would advise against that, and suggest scenario 2 for your inner circle:
Scenario 2. Revealing and asking help.
In many ways, this scenario is similar to 1. You have to be willing to lose all, and you certainly must not assume everyone will want to help you.
But this is definitely a softer scenario, and it is particularly suitable for more intimate situations.
Where scenario 1 is perfect go next level, leveraging social media, scenario 2 is more for an email to friends, or your employer.
Scenario 2 is:
“This is what’s been going on in my life, and I would love your support in this and this way.”
It’s being specific in what you need, that is the magic trick here.
For example:
“I am gay, and I am dating multiple men. I would love to be able to talk openly about that, whenever we’re together.”
Then you will have brought the discussion back to whether or not they’re going to give that specific support.
But you’re not putting the fact itself, up there for debate.
So these are the two scenarios to make sharing the truth, an empowering experience. 
You will no longer have the paralyzing fear that it will come out.
Because you’ve already done it yourself

Not tell

But if something is only slightly embarrassing or uncomfortable, you can also come to terms with it behind the scenes.
And keep it a secret, but one you’re in control of.
This was the case with me discussing my sex life with my friend Damian.
It was something that gave me the giggles, and he cracked jokes and I laughed so hard, it made my stomach ache.
But ultimately, if someone asked me about it, or found out about it, I would be able to say: “I don’t feel like discussing that.”
Or, alternatively: “What do you want to know?”
It’s not that big a deal.
And there’s another aspect that made me decide not to tell this now, just for the sake of it. And that reason is: I actually look forward to talking about this.
I feel it’s part of something larger. An unexplored side of sexuality.
The fact that it managed to fascinate even Damian, made me realize this sex toy was triggering. And most likely in a good way.
So knowing there is a bigger story to be told, a bigger perspective to be offered, is a really good reason to not share the more shallow or obvious facts now.
I compare it to when I became a mistress.
My confusion lay in the fact that I didn’t know what I was.
I knew I had gotten involved in a relationship with a married man, and I expected him to choose for me, because why would he not?!
And then he didn’t.
We got into this power struggle, where I didn’t understand what was going on, and he was not letting me in on his motives or his reasons.
But then I decided:
“He will have his reasons. I love him, and I will stand by him. Whatever his choice may be.”
I took my wounded ego for not being chosen, out of the equation and gave myself a different role, an identity.
I was a mistress.
I chose to be that.
Yet, if I had come out with my messy “Oh! He doesn’t leave his wife, boo hoo hoo!” story? Things would have been much more complicated.
I would probably have been looking for validation and it would not have been empowering at all.
By letting it simmer for a while, and giving it meaning, a narrative, I have allowed people to connect with that.
To connect with the story on a deeper level.
But the existence of my sexuality, a mistress, and his sexuality, a cheating husband, are presented by me, as a given. They’re not up for debate.
I only discuss how women with my preferences, and men with his preferences, can learn to accept themselves for what they are.
And be the best version of that.
It wasn’t until I saw I was a mistress, that I was able to see the deeper meaning, a story that affects many more people;
The women who keep feeling attracted to unavailable men, but also the betrayed women, and men who cheat.
My perspective on the nature of the mistress, the cheater, and even the betrayed wife, provides meaning in a situation that has the potential to crush all who are involved.
It offers healing, for all parties.
In a similar fashion I feel discussing my triggering sex toy alone, is premature. That I want to wait for the whole story to come out. I already know that it’s not something that is talked about or addressed anywhere else.
Least of all in main stream sex advice.
And in the process of creating this broader narrative, I do actually look forward to discussing it in real life!
But just with the people I drink with.

For Damian and me, Yogi Tea might have been enough.
But if you are interested in knowing what it was I showed Damian, and want to be part of me exploring the deeper meaning, the taboos, the reasons this is so sensitive – then we re going to need to become friends.
And we’re going to need plenty of wine. 

<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

7-Figure Rock Star Writer

To tell or not to tell is episode 17 of my project 7-figure rock star writer  
The subscribe button to this diary is somewhere on this page

Or follow on Facebook or Twitter,
NEW connect on Linkedin

My diaries en erotica are available at 
my BOOK SHOP
25% discount on all prices
If you check your cart, you can select your store
f.e. Nederland or United States
with the flag in the upper right corner.

PS Woon je in NEDERLAND?

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I quit writing (about my love life)

Project M. and in particular its last chapter Like a Prayer is my final diary for an indefinite period of time. 

I ve been writing about my love life, pretty much non-stop, since 2006, the moment I became single. And although it has brought me many things – in particular the opportunity to have relationships that are way out of my league – it has now started to constrict me.
The cage of self-reflection and transparency, that I built to protect myself, has become a prison.
I need to start living, and start experiencing life, without the pen.
Or at least without diary writing/ blogging about my real life.

I m going to use this time to create my four new books

One Dutch book with columns:
Blote Kont
Verhalen over mannen, macht en dagjes uit

One English book with columns:
I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW

One English book about Mistresshood:
The Big Mistress

And one diary 2017-2018, called Reboot.
Which will also include my last diary Project M.

Sex talk

Like all philosophers, his job wasn’t to be a philosopher.
And in his case it was an obvious one:
He was an artist.
Someone who creates exactly what he wants and manages to get paid for it.
Or takes a temp job to make ends meet.
I ve always considered myself an artist too. Initially I called myself a writer. But since I have no interest in my own craft, nor in other writers unless they write novels based on their own lives, it soon became apparent I wasn’t a writer at all.
I am a thinker.
I want to know the meaning behind a situation, a feeling, a moral judgement. I just keep on poking and unraveling until I know Why it is so.
And from there I will change reality, by redefining it through writing.
You can say the writing is my art, but in reality the process of taking everything in, digesting it, and creating new ideas about it, is my art.
My art starts when I open my eyes in the morning, and start to think about something.
I usually don’t leave the bed, until I have so much to say about the topic, I can’t think any more without first releasing it onto the page.
Maybe between the philosopher and me, I was actually more of a philosopher than he was. But regardless of who was what, we turned out to be extremely compatible.
So compatible that I told him all my sex secrets from the last four years, which I had not told anyone in a long time. The friends I could discuss this with, had already heard all these stories, and my secret lover Mr.Big and me had not had that kind of groundbreaking sex in a long time.
I had nothing new to tell.
But the philosopher didn’t know me, and he met my non-negotiable criteria to sharing my sex stories.
These criteria were:
1. that someone was male,
2. that he was sexually active and preferably pretty entrepreneurial with the whole thing, and
3. that he had a complete understanding that sharing my sex secrets – which were not really secrets at all, I just chose not to share – but he needed to understand that me sharing my sex secrets didn’t mean that we were going to have sex.
That I was sharing them for my own pleasure.
To relive the moment.
Late last year, I decided the only thing I am actively going to nurture is the sexual relationship I have with myself. I m going to break the almost junkie-dealer dependency I have created with my supplier Mr.Big. Talking about my sex life, is like creating a glow of years past, to warm myself by.
More than ever, I wanted to tell about the times when I did still have an exciting sex life. And had cycled home with violent cramps in my pelvic floor, when my body was throwing a tantrum after anal sex.
Times that belonged to the past.
Maybe it had been bad timing, in 2018. Maybe our dates had been on the wrong days, when I wasn’t ready either physically or mentally.
Sometimes I thought we didn’t have that same foundation anymore, of trust, and surrender. That the foundation where I trusted my body to him, and he trusted his whole life to me, was gone.
In the heyday, he had owned my body. Not in the master-slave way, at least not explicitly. But he had been sexually dominant. He didn’t ask or hesitate, the way other men had. Instead he would seduce me into full submission, until I was begging for it.
And if I was lucky, we would uplevel our game to where he didn’t ask at all, and just took me, abused me, raped me.
He had been the only man, with whom I didn’t have to play-act really poorly, in order to make sure he wouldn’t feel like he was doing something wrong.
I would fight back and cry real tears, and the pleasure was unbelievable.
Yet at the same time, he knew when to stop before I did. Before I had decided if I was still up for this, he’d stop and ask: “Are you okay?”
He knew me better than I knew myself.
And yet 2018 had gone by without being on that edge with him. I would receive minimal but sweet messages, an occasional platonic date, and satisfying but rather toned down sex compared to what we used to have.
And because I wanted to know Why, I came up with a reason.
The reason we stopped having that type of sex, is because something has shifted between us. And it’s not “lust turns into love”, which is the most probable cause, when you’ve been “together” for four years.
In our case it’s because our relationship isn’t stable anymore.
From the outside it still looks like a regular mistress and lover relationship, but I fell in love with someone else for the first time.
And around that same time I felt something shift on his side as well.
Maybe there is someone else, I don’t know.
But I suspect we don’t have that same level of trust, where he trusts me with his life/his integrity/his secret.
And in return I can trust him with my body.
I hope 2019 is going to be different. But if it’s not that’s okay too.
I ve internalized my entire sexuality, and let go of the need to make things work in the outside world. I am my own woman now.
Which was why talking to the philosopher about my sex life, was more than welcome.
The philosopher had past all three tests.
The first one: He was male.
The second one: He had an adventurous sex life.
He flaunted a “don’t know which side is up” approach to sex, that had of course resulted in the most messy sex life since Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love.
Perfect.
I will never talk about my sex life with men who are not happy with theirs or who are married.
I have one married friend, the Archaeologist, with whom I did talk about my sex life on two occasions. The first occasion was when I had anal sex with Mr.Big for the first time. A story I somehow managed to stretch for an hour!
And the first time I told it (to my friend Pierre) it had been three hours.
An hour was the condensed version. I have no idea how! LOL
Losing my anal virginity is the opening story from my book Big.
How are you going to fill three hours with what’s written on a few pages?
The second time I talked to the married Archaeologist about my sex life, was when Mr.Big had used three butt plugs on me, ranging from the size of a thin penis, to the size of a really thick one.
It was not just my achievement, that it fit: Mr.Big had been extremely gentle.
I m starting to believe that Mr.Big understands the art of balancing: Whenever he can feel I am tensed about something, for example the first time I was in his apartment, he downplays himself completely.
And upon seeing that largest butt plug anyone would feel intimidated.
Afterwards I sent the picture of the three butt plugs to my gay best friend, and even he was intimidated!
So when something is already stressful, or exciting to me, Mr.Big is extra gentle and sweet. Which can also explain why we didn’t do anything sexually remarkable in 2018. Our affair was going through hard times, and we don’t communicate about such things. The stress levels just build up.
The power play we used to have dates back to 2017 and before that; When the situation on all other levels, was completely stable.
I could never have a messy sex life, the way the Philosopher had. I need a clearly defined relationship, like the one from a mistress and her lover, so I can play and experiment sexually.
The Philosopher also met the third criteria:
He understood that me talking about sex, didn’t mean that we were going to have sex.
Although this was obviously the hardest one.
But I took my chances because I was excited to share.
So I talked about anal sex , butt plugs, power play.
And he wanted to know which role I had during power play (this was at the beginning of our conversation) and he managed to guess wrong.
And even to back it up with completely invalid arguments, on why he thought that.
I liked that. He wasn’t afraid to be wrong, just as he wasn’t afraid to be rejected.
He made me realize that’s why “normal” men bore me: They communicate in a way so that I can’t reject them.
Just yesterday someone who has been trying to get my attention for years, opened his car window to talk to me, again skillfully ignoring my cold shoulder responses. And then said: “If you want to, come over, right?”
Like a sales man he’s aware that I’ll jump at the first opportunity to say no.
All men do.
That’s why they never ask you something you can say no to, like asking you out.
Another reason why they don’t ask you out, is that they’re married and they don’t want to go out. But I never invest in chatting on Whatsapp or something.
Either we see each other in real life, or we don’t see each other at all.
Period.
And not asking me out because of fear of rejection, but in the meantime waving your neediness in my face, signaling “Pick me! Pick me!”, has to be one of the things that makes women resort to violence.
The Philosopher on the other hand, was an entirely different cattle of fish.
Just like he had not been shy at all, about asking me out on a date.
He was now shameless in his analysis on why I was dominant in bed. I think his strongest argument was that I was obviously ballsy and strong, so I could never be on the Anastacia Steele end of the stick.
Anastacia Steele is the submissive virgin from 50 Shades of Grey.
50 Shades was actually the Philosopher’s main source of information in order to determine whether I was dominant or submissive.
Again, something normal men would try to hide.
They’d say: “Well I had this woman once and based on that, my estimate is…”
The Philosopher was wrong, but he wasn’t afraid to be wrong nor was he afraid to flaunt his limited knowledge on the matter and his sketchy sources.
I loved it.
So naturally I informed him that I was submissive, and had been for as long as I could remember.
He also asked me why I liked anal sex. From a woman’s perspective he couldn’t see the benefit.
This time – something that spoke for him – he indicated that he was curious. But that I should only answer if I wanted to.
I wanted to.
I answered the reason I liked anal sex was not a physical one: it was entirely mental. It fit in with being submissive. It was on that fine line between pleasure and pain, between surrender and humiliation. It was an absolute mindfuck.
As was my entire sex life.
I explained that I was not into things like massages, multiple orgasms, or anything physical. The hole thing, my entire sexuality, was a mind game.
And he asked me about porn. Which he assumed I wouldn’t like then, because it was entirely physical.
“On the contrary!” I answered.
And I explained to him mainstream porn had so many rough, degrading sex, I could watch any porn clip on my Twitter feed to get satisfied.
And that I was probably Steve Holmes (a porn star) biggest fan.
The Philosopher only interrupted my praise of porn, to ask me if I was a real person.
We ordered our too-many-to-count drink. The only time I remember drinking this much was on my nights with the Archaeologist.
When I had told the Archaeologist the story about the butt plugs, I remembered I still had the picture of the toys on my phone.
The one I had sent to my gay best friend.
“I have a picture!” I exclaimed.
A photo of the three black butt plugs, medium to extra large, standing in the windowsill. Just like my gay best friend, the Archaeologist could not believe the largest one had actually gone in.
I told the Philosopher that when the Archaeologist and me had said our goodbyes, he had turned around, in the middle of the street.
Staring at me, as if he was in trance.
“I still can’t believe it,” was the only thing he said.
In the middle of the night the Philosopher and me said our goodbyes, in a warm hug, that was not sexual and I didn’t want it to be either.
But I just had the best day in years.
Part of me wanted something, I just didn’t know what it was.
“I still can’t believe it,” The Philosopher whispered softly.
Neither could I.

<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

7-Figure Rock Star Writer

Sex talk is episode 16 of my project 7-figure rock star writer  
The subscribe button to this diary is somewhere on this page

Or follow on Facebook or Twitter,
NEW connect on Linkedin

My diaries en erotica are available at 
my BOOK SHOP
25% discount on all prices
If you check your cart, you can select your store
f.e. Nederland or United States
with the flag in the upper right corner.

PS Woon je in NEDERLAND?

Mijn boeken zijn tijdelijk zonder verzendkosten én met 25% korting verkrijgbaar bij mijn uitgever. Gebruik code ONESHIP.
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I quit writing (about my love life)

Project M. and in particular its last chapter Like a Prayer is my final diary for an indefinite period of time. 

I ve been writing about my love life, pretty much non-stop, since 2006, the moment I became single. And although it has brought me many things – in particular the opportunity to have relationships that are way out of my league – it has now started to constrict me.
The cage of self-reflection and transparency, that I built to protect myself, has become a prison.
I need to start living, and start experiencing life, without the pen.
Or at least without diary writing/ blogging about my real life.

I m going to use this time to create my four new books

One Dutch book with columns:
Blote Kont
Verhalen over mannen, macht en dagjes uit

One English book with columns:
I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW

One English book about Mistresshood:
The Big Mistress

And one diary 2017-2018, called Reboot.
Which will also include my last diary Project M.