Sir…when you say you’re in the market for muses, what do you mean?

Most of my longer, more intense pieces are the direct result of someone opening up to me; sometimes in extended, probing conversations, sometimes in spontaneous confessions of deeply hidden, shameful desires. Whether we’re talking scary realities, secretive fantasies, or a multitude of minor, human details, there’s always something new for me to learn.

Writing this shit so that it appeals to otherwise rational women means listening to otherwise rational women talk about themselves and the fucked up thoughts they’re supposed to deny, then translating everything I’ve absorbed into something that’s simultaneously intimate and externalized. I can’t be me without all of you, in other words.

It should also go without saying that I enjoy fangirly adoration and gratuitous, inexplicable hero-worship. That flow of energy fuels my creativity and keeps me giving a shit about what I have to say; I’m not nearly as convinced of my overwhelming awesomeness as some of you seem to be.

So for me, I guess a muse is someone who wants her stories to live outside her, and passionately believes that mine are the words that will sustain them.

Dear Bedtime #2

Someone asked (paraphrased for anonymity):

If a whore accepts she’s broken and harnesses her “broken-ness” to bring immense happiness and satisfaction to her man –and consequently herself– does that essentially “un-break” her?“

Perhaps. There are plenty of broken-but-functioning people in the world, and they seem to get that way by finding a groove in life that suits their limitations… your relationship with your dom could certainly provide that. But as with any crutch, if someone kicks it away when you’re still hobbled, you’re simply going to fall down; learning to work around your damage –and even use it to your benefit– isn’t exactly the same thing as healing.

But then, It’s up to you to decide if the difference is worth the effort. Your happiness is yours to define.

Name three girls on tumblr you would fuck

Only three? Okay then, I pick:

1. The girl with the pretty lip that begs to be split, the pretty eye that cries to be swollen, and the pretty, nervous laugh that hides a sob of need and shame that she can scarcely contain.

2. The girl with the body that isn’t quite good enough –with boobs too small or big, with hips too narrow or wide, with skin too mottled or rough– and the determination to give me everything she has in atonement for the sin of her inadequacy.

3. The girl who reads my blog religiously, devouring every word and turning it into fuel for her clit. which she rubs in fevered secrecy behind closed doors and a veil of lies. The girl with the blog full of fitspo and daily affirmations and feminist agitprop GIFs and sad, yearning song lyrics. The girl who thinks no one can see what a depraved, desperate scrap of humanity she’s becoming in service to my words and her cunt. The girl who is so very wrong about that, as she is about so many other things.

Name three celebrities that some men find hot but you don’t find attractive.

Judging women by my subjective standards of beauty for no reason other than the inherent satisfaction of classifying them like cuts of fuckable meat?

How can I say no?

All-Time “I Don’t Get The Appeal” Hall of Fame: Julia Roberts. Didn’t understand the fascination twenty years ago, and still don’t. I’m still mystified by her Oscar, too; her career highlight was dying in Steel Magnolias.

Special Jury Prize For Following Too Closely In Her Aunt’s Footsteps: Emma Roberts. I prefer her work to Julia’s, but I don’t find her hot at all. Plus, Eric’s sweaty, leering performance in the Mr. Brightside video is still the best the Roberts clan has to offer.

I Only Want To Look At Her When She’s Being Pissed On, Lifetime Achievement: Kim Kardashian. ‘Nuff said.

BONUS:

Special Achievement In Becoming Instantly Asexual After Pregnancy: Jessica Alba. Before Cash Warren (fuck that guy) defiled her with his seed, okay, she was hot… but that’s as dead as her movie career now.