Farewell 2020

Well y’all, it’s finally happening. At long last, this hell year is coming to a close.

I certainly didn’t intend to only post 3 times in 2020, but that lack of output sort of seems fitting, in the end. Every time I’ve tried to sit down to write since March, the words just…wouldn’t come. What was there even to say, with everything going on? True, I managed to find the energy for a blog rebrand – once again, JKR: fuck you TERF, you’re the worst – but actually writing was too daunting a task for me. I do have some sexy post ideas brewing, but for some reason, it didn’t feel right to end my unintended blog hiatus with them.

And the thing is? Aside from the utter turmoil of the world, the constant fear and anxiety of falling ill (or worse, my immunocompromised partner falling ill), and everything in between this year has brought us, 2020 was one of the most romantically and sexually fulfilling years of my entire life. My partner and I bought a house together this summer, and the five months we’ve spent thus far in cohabitation have been utterly blissful, all things considered. Our sex life is incredible, we laugh a lot, and we’ve found a balance of togetherness and alone time that is nothing short of restorative. He’s sweet, thoughtful, and supportive. He makes me feel heard. He makes me feel seen. He makes me feel safe.

2020 could have broken us. When the pandemic began in earnest in mid-March, we’d only been together for 6 and a half months. We were serious by then, yes, but it was early days nonetheless. Being introverts, we adapted fairly well to a life of remote work and dates at home, though I still deeply miss our Sunday brunches. Then we began house-hunting, and we eventually found one that fit our needs and budget, despite this city’s wild housing market. It’s technically his house, as it was his down payment and his name is on the mortgage (for now, anyway), but he’s never once made me feel excluded, or like a roommate or renter. My thoughts and opinions were always welcomed and considered. Home ownership hasn’t always been easy – it’s often stressful and expensive in the best of times, and this year is hardly the best of times – but we’re settling in and making this a real home for us. He’s sitting next to me on the couch right now as I write this, playing a video game while his dog snuggles in the blanket nest she’s made between us.

2020 could have torn us apart, but it only made us stronger. If I had had any doubts about this relationship in early March, everything that has transpired since would have erased those doubts. I’ve been in long-term relationships before, and all of them were healthy and happy for at least part of it. But I have never had a romantic relationship quite like this before. I can’t even fully articulate what it is, but there’s just something about him, and us, that fits.

This isn’t to say that the year has been perfect for me on a personal level. I’m unhappy in my job; my depression has reared its head more often than I’d like; I desperately miss seeing my friends and family. I made some progress in aerial silks, then lost a lot during the months that studios were closed, and I am having to slowly crawl my way back. (Side note: I’m hoping to have more silks content here on the blog going forward, since it’s officially part of my brand now.)

But in the face of everything this year threw at me, I didn’t break. I survived. In some ways, I even thrived. And I know – despite my disappointments, despite my beliefs that I could have read more, written more, worked out more, etc etc etc – that’s a win. And I’m proud of that.

Goodbye 2020. I certainly won’t miss you, but I won’t deny that you wound up leaving an indelible mark on my life.

Slap that face / slap it ’til it’s dizzy

In the decade that I’ve been experimenting in kink, I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve moved a particular activity from the “maybe,” “I guess,” or “I honestly have no idea” categories in my brain over to the “hell yes!” column. What I have not experienced often, however, is the near-sudden migration of a hard limit into constant fantasy fodder.

Face slapping was one such rarity.

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Under The Sexual Microscope

“Are you…studying me?”

My eyes, which I had reflexively closed in the throes of my passion, had managed to flutter open, and they landed on the face of my (relatively new) partner. The expression upon it contained the expected lust, but even more noticeable was a look of intellectual curiosity, one I’d seen on him in sexual situations before. It was like he was cataloging me.


We’d been dating for a few weeks at this point, and our chemistry was undeniable. We were entangled on my couch, with me in a disheveled state of undress and him knuckle-deep in my cunt.

“Something about the way you look at me when we’re fooling around, it’s like…like I’m an intriguing science experiment to you.”

He laughed, kissed me, and asked, “Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” I breathed in a reply that was more sigh than word, as at that moment, he began again with his machinations below my waist.

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Six Weeks Later

Six weeks ago, I endured a seismic shift in my life.

Six weeks ago, my long-distance partner of over 4 years told me that he had developed feelings for another woman, and that he was leaving me, in part so he could be with her. I had just arrived on a plane that morning, ready for a week of laziness and quintessential New England autumn activities, and instead I found myself in his new apartment (his job meant regular relocations), staring out the window at a city I’d never seen before that day while my world crashed around me. Everything I’d built up in my head, everything about what our lives were going to be like once that grand mythical day arrived and we’d finally live in the same place, crumbled.

But this isn’t about that. It’s not even about him, and it’s definitely not about her. This is about me, and what came after.

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