Recovering from a buzz kill

I published this website in April 2018 and simultaneously put out the three texts I had prepared in advance. Since then, I haven’t been able to write all that much. I’ve started drafts for several different topics but failed to deliver anything significant.

I’ve blamed the lack of fruitful writing sessions on all the other things I’ve got going on. Work is hectic, my goals in physical exercise require dedication, I bought a set of electric drums and need to practice to make the investment worth it, spending time with my wife is more important than any of this.

While all of the above is true, there’s still time to write at least 2 to 4 hours every week. But I haven’t. Instead I’ve struggled with motivation and coming up with meaningful thoughts even though the subjects I’ve been meaning to discuss are really important to me.

Why then? It took me time to realize that the difficulties I’ve had in what started out as a liberating and empowering writing experience, are due to a buzz kill I suffered after publishing my first texts. Without going into high detail, some of the people whose opinions and acceptance I’ve learned to hold high did not welcome my decision to write publicly about sexuality and fetishes.

They discouraged me appealing to multiple different reasons that seemed to change on the fly as I countered each one with well-thought arguments based on my own reasoning and emotional needs. Obviously, after a while such reasons start to look more like excuses that are made up just to defend a prejudice the person is not inclined to give up no matter what.

I understand that dealing with something like this for the first time is difficult. I probably shattered the expectations and assumptions these people had about me and also did it in a way that they have a hard time valuing.

Still, it’s arrogant for such people to expect for me to take any advice from them. If they cannot grasp why this type of radical openness is important for me and even refuse to listen when I explain, then they are in no position to give me any advice. Instead their advice ends up feeling like ignorant opinions thrown forcefully my way. And even worse, as they reject my context, they end up looking down on my emotional needs as something pitiful and treat the actions I take about it as irresponsible and desperate calls for help.

Ring ring! It’s your ass calling. It would like you to pull your head out of it. This message goes out to all who patronize other people over their choices. It is not your business. Do you, honestly, think you know better than the person at hand? The person, who has contemplated the issue through out their life and weighed all the possible outcomes of being public about it. The person who gathered all their strength and courage to change the course of their life to be able to feel whole. If you do, go to your room and think. And don’t come out until you’ve learned some basic respect and humility.

That’s enough I guess. I don’t want dwell in anger, but I can’t help being provoked when someone tries to shut me down immediately after I’ve started to shine for the first time in my life.

This blog is going to continue on the glorious path it started on and you can either accept it or leave, because fighting it is certainly useless. It’s a cliché but the process of coming out of the closet and facing resistance about it causes a huge need to take pride and boast about the things I’ve been told to fall silent about.

That said, I fucking love boots, gloves, leather outfits, latex, PVC,  make-up, long nails and pretty much everything our twisted culture enforces as feminine. I equally love muscles, manliness and power. I could argue I have a fetish for binary dynamics (and so do many others, even though it’s rarely conceptualized that way)! Riding outfits are just the best. Any fetishizeable thing a person consciously carries with charisma is hot. BDSM, humiliation and teasing are amazing forms of interaction.  Can you shove it in your mouth? If yes, it’s potentially interesting.

So many fetishes, so little time. Perhaps I manage to go through most of them before I die, the Internet shuts down or some other catastrophe prevents me from writing.

I’m quite optimistic that blowing off steam like this increases my future productivity. After months of self-doubt and -censorship with trouble producing a single consistent paragraph, I wrote this piece off the top of my head in an hour’s time on a train barely using any backspace.

Oh yeah! I also love myself. You don’t approve? Cum try me.

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