The Blog

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Labor, A Day Late

This was supposed to go out yesterday. I thought “A Labor of Love” sounds like such a lovely title for a Labor Day post, I should write something. I sat down to write, got distracted, and realized that I so often extoll the virtues of my profession and blather on about how much I enjoy it that yet another post about how awesome you guys are would just be overkill. So I slept most of the day and spent my waking hours incredibly stoned, reading a book.

This morning I woke up early enough to catch the last commuter bus downtown which gave me a good hour or so to grab coffee and futz around on the internet. The morning was gray and the forecast was for gloom all day. As I walked to and from the bus, my mood sank comfortably into gloom as well. Two of my best girl friends and confidants just moved away from Seattle and the third in my loving lady trifecta has been out of town and/or so busy I haven’t seen her in two months.

I generally try to compact my work days so my free time comes at the end of my day but today I’m spread evenly throughout the day. It means I have chunks of time long enough to think but not long enough to go do something. It means I often get bored, sleep, or waste time online. The prospect of such a day plus the bedraggled stray feeling of social neglect tagging behind me made for a dull morning. Even my favorite coffee beverage from my favorite barista wasn’t enough to lift my spirits.

Then you showed up. You know who you are and you are not alone in your ability to first distract me from my melodrama, then genuinely change my mood. Your big smile, your respect for my limits, your appreciation for our time together, your conversation, your insights, your trust, and that dreamy look you wear out the door flipped my mood around so thoroughly that I don’t mind so much the prospect of creating new friendships from scratch and keeping myself sane in the meantime.

I would not love what I do if each day I faced a series of impersonal, disconnected, pushy, self involved, shallow interactions. I love what I do because each day I meet genuine, caring, respectful, humorous, interesting people. You are not who I would meet under any other circumstances. In what world would I meet such a variety of individuals and connect with them on a prearranged yet personal level? In which universe would I be allowed to lie naked and warm in the crook of your arm in the afterglow of sexual passion asking you about your life? Where else would I find both the impetus and the freedom to pursue educational avenues alongside personal reflections? Nowhere else but here, in my little corner of Seattle, where you and I are the only two in existence, for a while.

You are my inspiration.

Thank you

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REV: FBSM Danielle and our cocoa friend ‘Velvet’

I had a brilliant experience last month, as I am often wont to do, but this one I thought I’d share.

FBSM Danielle and I have shared classes over the last almost year and the day after we ended our student status and began our professional careers, we shared a luxurious afternoon with a TRB gentleman I will from now on refer to as Velvet. I was so struck that I asked permission to review the event and both acquiesced. So here it goes:

LOCATION: My place; First Hill
DATE: 07/10/15
NAME: FBSM Danielle and Velvet
INCALL/OUTCALL: Out for both; they came to me ;-P
AGENCY OR INDY: Both very independent
ACCURATE PICTURE: Her, yes. Him, You’ll just have to see him in person
AGE: mid 30’s/ late 30’s?
PERSONALITY: Her, Energize Bunny. Him, eager to please/be pleasured
RACE: Her: caucasian. Him: dark chocolate
BODY TYPE: Her: Marks of motherhood might trick the ignorant into thinking she’s something other than fit but for those of us who have touched her we know she’s all muscle Him: robust, exactly perfect for leaning into and onto.
WEIGHT: Not even gonna try
HEIGHT: Taller than me. Both of them. Everyone taller than me is of equal height: tall.
BUST: her: I’d guess C-D and she does this thing with them… him: There were other, more interesting things but the corkscrew chest hair and extremely responsive nipples had all three of us entertained
WAIST: Her: thin, muscled, with evidence of motherhood adding character. Him: robust, muscular, and mature
HIPS: Her: a waist-to-hip ratio for the ages! Him: I was paying more attention to the center than the width, I must admit
HAIR: Her: medium-long, strawberry brown. Silky and soft, up in a clippy when she wasn’t upside down on the floor. Him: trimmed close, pepper with a sexy smidgen of salt.
EYES: Her: big, dark, don’t remember the color. Him: laughing and rich brown.
FEET: Her: pink pedicure with nail art. Him: …good question. I got distracted on my way down and didn’t notice the feet.
SKIN TONE: Her: NW tan but her Mexican vacation may change that. Him: deep, rich mahogany. Lovely contrast for our hands and lips and other fun bits.
TRIMMING: Her: her waxing appointment was an hour after we got done so full womanly bush but I imagine it’s different today. Him: again that lovely fun corkscrew coil. She described it as a cashmere sweater and I’m not sure I disagree
TATTOOS: None on any of the three of us
SCARS: Also none that were obvious. I believe she has a c-section scar but nothing else I can think of.
PIERCINGS: Her: belly button and ears. Him: No? Not that I noticed
MOLES: Her: one well-placed on her cheek but not very noticeable. Him: I wouldn’t have seen if I looked.
BIRTHMARKS: One on her hand.
CLOTHES: Her: little black dress. Him: Something we could unbutton. Man-clothes. They got in our way so we took them off.
GLASSES: Her: contacts but glasses on request. Him: yes? I think so
MOANER OR A SCREAMER: Her: too much slurping for moans to be heard. Him: I think he lost his ability to speak for a full five minutes. I assumed that because there was a lot of frantic pointing and grunting which I dutifully followed by tonguing the indicated nipples.
ENERGY LEVEL DURING THE SESSION: Her: Energizer. Fucking. Bunny. I don’t think she sits still in her sleep! Him: matched ours which is fun because our levels are so different.
MULTI SHOTS DURING THE HOUR: We made sure of that.
ACCEPTS FRENCH: Her: possibly, at some point, but not that night. Him: Oh yes. She gave him little choice!
SMOKES: Neither?
DRINKS: Champagne for all in celebration of graduation and birthday (back in March but hey, who cares?)
KISSES: Her: I’m convinced she has an oral fixation. She licked everything!! Him: sweet and caring and very full. I enjoyed it very much.
FRENCH: Her: vigorous, immediate, and nonstop. I quote “You have to beg me to stop.” I believe it. Him: I’m sure he would have but we never gave him time to try.
GREEK: Not on anyone’s radar
RUSSIAN: Her: I think of her breasts as interactive. She was too busy with her mouth to give them a try. Him: the thought makes me chuckle but no, not really the right equipment, haha.
DO’s or DON’T’s: Do have a good time. Don’t expect FS. Leave your inhibitions at the door!
WEB-SITE: www.seattledanielle.com
SCREENING PROCESS: We all already know each other quite well but she and I both do references and I do full name and ID
EMAIL: seattle.danielle@yahoo.com
PHONE: Given out when needed
RATES: 360/hr. 500/1.5hr. 600/2hr
RECOMMEND: Hella yes!
COMMENTS:
Danielle and I had talked about doing a duo special (watch out in the future!) after classes were out. We kept putting it off because of how busy we were but Velvet is a beloved client of ours so when he emailed us inquiring, we both went wild. I set the date, time, and duration and offered my space so they could sit back and enjoy. The appointed time arrived and I broke out the bottle of bubbly I had set aside for the occasion. Danielle arrived about 15 minutes early and flopped energetically (I didn’t know you could flop energetically but Danielle proved it can be done) on my couch to enjoy the first sips of her champagne while we chatted about school and the private stripper pole party we had put on the night before. Velvet arrived and I was greeted with the broadest smile of anticipation plus a big, full kiss. I don’t know how many minutes passed but it wasn’t many before Danielle and I had unbuttoned all available buttons, my robe slipped off, and her dress peeled over her head onto the chair. Not a second later, he fell to his knees, I knelt behind him kissing and touching what I could reach, and she laid below him, thoroughly soaking everything that fell into her mouth. That set the tone for what was to be a hurricane of an adventure.

We moved from the couch to the floor to the massage table to the couch again, and every move seemed to separate her mouth from his body only for a moment. It was like her mouth was the north and his was the south pole of a magnet and they were drawn together by the laws of physics, beyond natural human desire. Danielle is literally a force of nature.

We began on the table with her lying face down. Even with the skilled and talented ministrations of Velvet and myself, she writhed and moaned even when the focus was just on feet and shoulders, respectively. Her oral fixation craved satisfaction. Ten whole minutes passed this way before wandering hands found more sexually charged places and my lips found Velvet’s, towering over Danielle’s arched back. The two of them trade places and Danielle and I spent another span of time, I don’t know how long this time, tickling and teasing, Velvet rewarding us with moans and grins and words of encouragement. My smile never left my face as I watched and giggled and made a nuisance of myself, getting in the way of her twisting teases and pleasurable pressure. Even on his belly on the table, he couldn’t get away from her trailing tongue, trickling down his back and between his thighs, rendering him speechless, as if her tongue tied his with its ferocity.

On the flip, the relentlessness never stopped. On the rare occasion her energy flagged or was distracted, I slipped in with hands when needed and tongue when appropriate. In one memorable moment, he lost his ability to speak and it was gestures and grunts that led me to his sensitive and needy nipples that I proceeded to tongue, tease, and teeth while her lips and hands were occupied south of the border. She and I finally drew a shuddering breath from him along with his first release after which we immediately resumed our manual and oral ministrations.

This was the gentle in-between when we joked, he had his wits back (and witty they are!!), and our stimulation ebbed to allow him his recovery. It was this time with the slipping and sliding of body on body and the constant but more gentle movement that inspired my favorite quote of the evening. We joked about personalities and mentioned a few other nerdy providers when Danielle teased Velvet about being ‘slathered in nerdy white girls’. And slathered he was! Me on one side, she on the other, we made a reverse Oreo of sensual and action packed excitement. Velvet, through it all, was the greatest sport. Knowing us both well, he joked, teased, chided, encouraged, gasped at, and adored us in equal measured measure. His smooth rolling tones gave an intoxicating complement to our girlish giggles.

However, true to form, Danielle indulged that oral fixation we have decided she’s got and we cued the devolution of words to sighs and giggles to moans. With she and I licking, touching, teasing, tasting, tickling, slurping, soothing, sending Velvet into another world his second climax came much to our joy and delight.

After a judicious period of recovery, sipping some water and breathing deeply, we moved our sweaty selves back to the couch where we worked our way through more of the wine. Time goes on, as it is wont to do, and we eventually got showered and dressed by turns before I was finally, once again alone in my studio. As I reflected on my experience I realized that, while I was not center stage because this duo was for him and I was experiencing this part of her for the first time, I felt deeply fulfilled, cared for, rewarded, and looked forward to more similar but different experiences. I highly recommend both of these absolutely beautiful people for social and erotic adventures.

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Would You Still?

Over the last few years my professional life and my persona life have traveled separate but intersecting paths. Almost as if the pendulum is beginning to settle.

In January of 2013 I drove out to the suburbs and met a kind, sweet, solicitous young man who proceeded to converse and make love with me, then send me home with a generous wage. In February of the same year my good friend sat across two large bowls of pho and warned me of the danger I was in, speaking to my experience through his lens of the mainstream narrative of sex work. A few weeks later we fell into bed together and we have been inseparable ever since.

It hasn’t been all rose-tinted glasses and laughter. One night, after drunkenly flashing a coworker, I started a long, loud argument over trust; namely whether he trusted me. I remember holding a half-eaten hamburger in my fist, shaking it in his direction and swearing at him. Another sunlit summer afternoon he sunk his fist into the wall after I revealed my first and last infidelity (defined as such by the lack of communication prior, not the action itself). However, as we both learn to read each other’s moods and needs, our discussions are quiet; full of ‘I’ statements, reassurances of devotion, and loving touch.

My personal relationship has settled, much as my professional ones have, into a mix of routine and novelty that nurtures me. The domestic duties are largely taken care of by the time I get home and we are free to watch shows we like, go out to see friends, or stay in and watch the fire burn in the fireplace come winter. My week is filled with beloved regulars who brighten my day in a different way every time they join me in my little corner of Seattle. I leave reluctantly in the morning, longing to stay warm in bed, talking sweet nothing to waste time. I leave reluctantly in the evening, finally setting things aright for the next morning and fondly remembering the warmth of my loves. It is a quiet domesticity on both counts, even and easy, busy without being overwrought.

This post was inspired by a recent question posted by the lovely Larissa Nostrova. She’s always coming up with interesting questions but this time it was “would you still?” If you as a partner were getting sex as often as you wanted it, would you still be seeking professional companionship? Reactions are mixed. Some choose to be exclusive when dating, though serial monogamy can be seen as a type of polygamy, each partner separated only by time. Some discover that the injection of sensuality and desire supports their personal relationships, recreating that sense of passion and confidence that then reignites their personal life. Some are actively polyamorous, seeking professionals in order to have a fulfilling but no-strings-attached experience in order to recharge and relax. Some are perpetually single and so the question is moot. I thought it might be interesting to answer the question from the other side.

I have a more frequent desire for sexual activity than my partner. He has acclimated to infrequent sexual activity over the course of his life and so our current level is higher and more satisfying than he is used to. During and after my personal sexual revolution I became accustom to a much higher frequency, if not quality, than I currently experience. He and I have different baselines and my profesional activities make up the difference. I wouldn’t do what I do if I couldn’t make a living at it, but if I had a regular 9-5 that kept me too busy to play with people’s bodies and senses I’m not sure if or how much the difference in baselines would chafe. Over the last four years I’ve not gone more than a few days without being naked with someone. If that suddenly changed….. Suffice it to say I’m hoping it doesn’t change for a long time yet.

To answer Larissa’s question: if I got as much sexual/sensual activity as I wanted, neither of us would have time for a job and I’d have bigger problems than my sex life, haha! My life affords me both the diversion my brain craves and the freedom to pursue it. It’s a beautiful thing.

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Low and Slow

I’ve been waiting all day. He’s been teasing me with it, telling me how pleasurable it will be to slip it between my lips and feel the hot, slick juices slide down my throat. My eyes drift up from the page to stare at nothing, imagining his smooth, firm flesh sitting there right before my eyes. First I’ll see it. Glistening, proud, a hot mass waiting for me to taste. It smells salty-sweet with that musky scent underneath. I bring it slowly to my lips where it drips a slippery trail up my chin and I finally taste it. It’s warm, fresh, silky to my tongue but firm when I give a little nibble. I bring it into me again and again, slowly savoring each rich, thick mouthful. It slides into me with a final rush, exploding savory juices into my mouth, settling warm and comforting in my tummy.

What a delicious barbequed pulled pork shoulder!!!!

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Good, Better, Legal?

I did an interview with a reporter from the Seattle Weekly last week and amid questions about my daily life and how I feel about it, he asked me about decriminalization. My answer wasn’t simple, much as I wish it were. While I love the idea of feeling free from the threat of legal consequences and even more tempting is the safety of my partner from accusations of ‘living off the avails’, I’m not so excited about the idea of someone butting in. Did you know that the temperature at which massage linens are washing is mandated by state law? What might be mandated after decriminalization in the effort to keep us ‘safe’? In Australia, exchanging money for unprotected penetration of any kind is illegal, while its protected counterparts are legal. That includes digital penetration of the mouth. I understand how this increases the level of safety, but some of us prefer to draw different lines. At what point does the state become my manager and am I ok with what restrictions someone else decides on? Who does the deciding? SWOP recently (and successfully) campaigned to keep the names of Seattle exotic dancers from becoming public record. Will I also be protected from social repercussions? Will I be required to keep records? Will my client files be under HIPPA protection? Do I need to disclose my occupation to my landlord? Where will I be allowed to practice? Can I collaborate with colleagues? Until these and dozens more questions are answered, I’m not sure what to decide.

It would please me to know that the work I love is valued by others and recognized as work that is loved by many more. I would feel great relief knowing my partner is safe from legal vilification just because I make more than he does. The ability to openly teach new entrants how to stay safe and careful would bring me joy. Watching my life crumble as regulation and social stigma destroy my livelihood and my loved ones does not make me feel good.

What do you think? Would you be proud to walk into a place of ill repute or do you prefer the current risky but discreet arrangements? Would you rent to a provider? Would you tell your friends that hooker jokes aren’t cool anymore? Do you want to be able to tell your significant other how you survived that two year dry spell? What might the world look like for you if this one things was different? I would be interested to know what could get better without losing what is good.

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Lady Chatterley’s Lover by D.H. Lawrence

Lady Chatterley, the quintessential cheater, more notorious a tragic figure even than Madame Bovary, is at the center of a story that both rouses and irritates me. Written in a time when sex was for young people and married couples and intellectualism ran wild, Lady C, as the author was wont to call it, told a story of romantic love that heals and inspires.

Lady Chatterley has four lovers altogether. One is of her youth; young, eager, appreciative, but set apart from the care and devotion that often grows from carnal engagements. He and she teach each other of sex separate from thoughtful care, though it does sound like an adventure and if she had had the chance she might have found love without heartache first. Her second lover is her husband. They have a short time together before he goes to fight in the Great War and when he comes back he is paralyzed below the waist. For the next ten years, she lives with him and cares for him, but his overly cerebral analysis and his empty but popular writings slowly, slowly drive her towards the arms of a young playwright, her third lover. He is young and frantic, passionate with a baseline of bitter resentment. He once angrily scolds her for bringing herself to orgasm, petulantly whining that no woman ever came at the same time he did (and not surprising, with only two minutes to work with). Her third lover is the woodsman, the gamekeeper her husband hired without care but casually, thinking of the decision as his hereditary right to the lives of the lower classes. Finally, Lady Chatterley discovers a man of endurance and variety that brings her the kind of long-term satisfaction a thoroughly fucked woman possesses.

Through each adventure, the author uses monologue and long form prose to outline his own ideals. Monologues delivered by windy intellectuals make it clear that Lawrence doesn’t believe in life without sex because their long discourses praising the mental life as superior to the physical are punctuated by Lady Chatterly’s internal skepticism. Long form prose, very poetic and descriptive but with a strange habit of repetition, illustrate the high esteem Lawrence holds the feminine and sensual sex. I can see why, in 1928, this book was considered pornographic: Lawrence uses strong and transparent language to describe our Lady’s various lovemakings and hold up sexual passion as a form of healing. To me, now, in my circumstance and in today’s sexual climate, I felt only moments of surprise as opposed to the appall and disgust that must have followed in the postwar, puritanical social climate.

The books ends without really ending so we don’t know what happens to the Lady but there are some interesting things that jumped out at me. The irritating one is that it’s obviously written by a man who has no idea what being a woman is like and failed to consult any in the writing of this novel. He often refers to ‘her woman’s instinct’ and ‘her womanly senses’ and all sorts of things that are universal to humans but are written as the sole property of women. I found my eyes rolling regularly as I came across silly passages like that where he wrote her behavior as if it’s just what women do and she as a person had nothing to do with it or as if women have some kind of special powers or some foolishness. It felt to me as if I were reading what someone wished were true and in that way it very much was a romance novel.

I also noticed that the Lady’s husband was incredibly progressive, granting her license to take discreet lovers and even to have a child by someone since he was unable to. I find his actions admirable, if the reasoning behind them a little flimsy. He and his intellectual friends don’t value the pleasures of the flesh and so he doesn’t realize what she is missing. My partner has noticed that if we go longer than four or five days without sex, I get emotional, irrational, and weepy. She went nearly ten years! and he didn’t even notice. Of course he allows her her affairs, not because he realizes how important it is but because he doesn’t believe it important at all. What a dope.

The final take-away, and one that I am pleased with, is the idea that sexual passion is important for our emotional and even physical health. In her years between the playwright and the woodsman, she begins to waste away, lose her appetite, become listless and gray, and generally suffer neglect and ennui. Her health recovers rapidly as she moves into her affair and it sounds like the sex is great, if a little romanticized. While fanciful in this story, the idea that sexual health is important to overall health is one I heartily stand by. I like to joke that I’m doing my part to prevent prostate cancer by ensuring regular activity, and getting your heart rate up a bit isn’t a bad thing 😉

Overall, I found it sweet in some ways, silly and overly poetic in others, and not as much a pleasure to read as the Outlander novels I also took with me. I would be curious to read a modern rewrite, using more common language and pacing more evenly. While I didn’t respond with any strong emotions, I will say that the mild romantic reaction it did provoke was well timed. Reading it with the sun and later the stars drifting overhead, the twitter of birds in the trees and the occasional swish of a single car on the lonely road the only reminder of civilization, my inclination towards amour rose luxuriously. Reading about how a sexual connection had the power to energize, educate, demoralize, please, or anger, and in explicit, sometimes even playful terms I was grateful for the proximity of a willing partner and the privacy of a closed door. I can see why, when video based pornography and more explicit writings weren’t available, this book titillated and aroused many of its readers in a relatively healthy and comfortable way.

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Today I Learned

My lovely, periprofessional friend quoted this to me. In my drunken reverie I found it not only worthy of posting but near necessary. Rate details are in the next post; this was too good to wait.

 

There is no Frigate like a Book
To take us Lands away
Nor any Coursers like a Page
Of prancing Poetry –
This Traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of Toll –
How frugal is the Chariot
That bears the Human Soul –

 

by Emily Dickinson

 

long live the book

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Up, up, and away!!!! and announcements

Today is the day. I’ve scheduled this to post as I’m driving out to Eastern Washington for two weeks. School is done, paperwork is signed, things are in place to hit the ground running upon my return. I hope schedules are scheduled and screening is screened because you won’t hear from me until august 1 and no one will see me until the third. I’m going to take in sunshine, grilled meat, and mixed drinks in equal measures as I go off the grid with a stack of New Yorker magazines and a series of high fantasy novels. See you guys when I get back!

I have some fun announcements to make that go into effect as of Monday August 3:

I have a standard schedule now.
Sunday from 10a-7p or so
Monday off
Tuesday from 8a-noon
Wednesday from 8a-8p
Thursday off
Friday from 8a-8p
Saturday off
I will still keep my calendar up to date, but this is a general guideline.

I’m offering a new session style. It may not appeal to those of you who have grown accustomed to my more GFE style FBST sessions but for those who just need to relax and enjoy the ministrations of a pretty girl with skilled hands and don’t want to think or move for an hour, this is just the thing.

Massage with a happy moment:
This doesn’t include kissing, mutual touch of any kind, prolonged teasing, or body surfing. It’s a fully nude massage (draping optional) where we identify an area of concern, treat it, and either begin or end the massage with your sexual release. Massage is relaxation style or treatment style, whichever you wish.
60 minutes: 160
90 minutes: 220
120 minutes: 280 (may include two releases)

New rates for FBST as you’ve all come to know and love is as follows:
60 minutes: 220
90 minutes: 300
120 minutes: 360
Longer session available on a case by case basis.
Shorter sessions by special announcement only.
New friends add 30 minutes of social time (50/hhr)

New rates are subject to a ‘happy hour’ special. Any sessions falling completely within 8a-4p on a weekday or 10a-5p on Sundays are subject to 20$ off.

Of course those of you who already know and love it are grandfathered in at my previous rates. Grandfathered rates are not eligible for ‘happy hour’.

Add prostate Massage to any session for 40$ Can be added at time of service. Never done it and curious? I’m happy to work within your comfort level to discover if you like it or not. Either way, first timers try it free. I use powder free nitrile gloves in midnight black to keep us both happy and healthy and to help mitigate the mental ick factor that often bars us from exploring pleasure.
I’m happy to accommodate toys you bring and am open to suggestions for a collection of my own.

While I love gifts, tippng is not necessary. I charge what I feel is right for my time and I realize my rates are on the high end. While I won’t say no, instead of leaving extra cash think of bringing flowers, staying mindful of our time, donating to a charity of your choice, or simply prolonging your relaxation experience by treating yourself at home to a hot bath with some epsom salts and a bit of quality dark chocolate.

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Not Forever

“I am sometimes amazed that such wrenching cruel pain can be inflicted without the slightest hint of intent or even awareness. When that girl lit up on seeing her boyfriend, she didn’t imagine it could cause anyone pain. Obviously you aleady know this, but I just find it astonishing.
The way her eyes lit up, her face, her impulsive joy…to see that, and know it can never be you. To see that, and be forced to comprehend the immense gulf between you and a normal guy, between his experience in life and yours.
And you can’t say anything about it, you can’t complain or even just express a quiet sorrow about it. Even here, someone will come along and bitch about you thinking you’re ‘entitled’. And even if they didn’t, there’s no point in complaining anyhow. There’s no one to complain to; no one made any decision and no one can change this.
You wish someone’s eyes would light up like that for you. That’s all. It’s very simple and sad and empty. But you can’t seem to make it happen. Somehow, advice about lifting weights and being yourself falls a bit flat when 10,000 girls in a row have seen you and their eyes have remained unanimously unlit.
It isn’t something you can ask for. What a bizarre conversation that would be. “Hey, would you mind having your eyes light up when you see me? Thanks”. Seriously, what would be the point of that? It isn’t something she could decide to do on purpose.
Such exquisite shame and hurt, inflicted in total innocence. It’s just the inevitable result of being around people without really being one. Constant reminders of what you are and what you are not.
It would be easier to refute and resist such messages if they were delivered on purpose. If someone openly jeered and said you were unworthy, that might hurt but not nearly so much. When kind, decent people inadvertently show you what you are, the very fact that they didn’t mean to hurt you, makes it hurt more. You know they mean it. You know full well that girl had no idea of causing you pain at all. You know full well that her eyes would never light up like that for you. She’d never say such a thing. It’s just a brutal, silent truth.
No girl is ever going to have or express a conscious opinion that you don’t deserve to have someone love you. If you ever asked, they’d all insist that someone will but just not them right now sorry. But conscious opinions have nothing to do with it.
She didn’t see her boyfriend, muse over her options, and choose to react with joy. It just happened. And when girls react to you, there’s no real deliberate choice. It just happens. And what happens is, he gets joy and love, and you don’t. Other guys do, and you don’t.
You can’t even comfort yourself with bitterness or anger toward women, because you know they are just people reacting and feeling what they feel. You don’t want someone to force themselves, to pretend, to take pity. You want someone’s eyes to light up. And you have a sick horrible fear in your gut that it really might just never happen.
You came into the world as stupid and hopeful as everyone else. And you are learning the cold lesson now. You bounce up like a hopeful puppy, sure that you’re a part of this, sure that you get to play like everyone else, and you slowly learn you’re just not welcome. Nothing personal, you just don’t get to have that kind of reaction, that kind of experience. Nothing personal, you just have to be alone, and would you mind pretending to be ok with that? You’re not supposed to complain about it and make people feel bad.
Just live your life alone, don’t experience love, don’t hold hands, don’t have sex, don’t have children. And don’t bitch about it, you entitled creep.
Now go lift some weights.”

The above was not written by me. I peruse Reddit.com quite a bit. I have browsing apps downloaded to both phone and iPad and have to restrict it to wifi only so I don’t use all two gigs of my data redditing. Amidst the myriad chaff, I occasionally come across something that dramatically shifts my worldview. The above passage opened my eyes to something that resonates with me.

Much is said against the forever alone guy. He is pathetic. He is a white knight. He is entitled. His lot isn’t that bad. Suck it up. Et Cetera. The author of this passage is obviously familiar with what he describes, whether he feels it himself or he has a friend who has broken down and confided in him. He, forever alone, is one reason my work matters and why it’s so damn rewarding. I’ve talked before about how, the first time I went pro, I was able to relax more easily than in my personal life and how my arousal response went through the roof. Getting paid for my time freed me to sink in and enjoy it. I had made my decisions, I had taken my safety precautions, I was free of doubts that plagued me through regular relationships, and I had a blast. That feeling hasn’t changed. The feeling of freedom to focus on you and the feeling of exultation at a job well done. Every time you walk out happier than you walked in, I feel that joy and gladness.

For the forever alone guy writing about his situation with introspection, understanding, and forgiveness I offer this: my eyes will light up when I see you. Because your financial assistance frees me while we are together from outside concerns, my eyes light up. Because you reward my every move with a smile of appreciative desire, my eyes light up. Because your conversation assumes my intelligence, my eyes light up. Because your body responds to my touch with sensual focus, my eyes light up. Because you come back again and again, my eyes light up. Because you feel comfortable and safe and sexy and concerned, my eyes light up… for you. Whoever you are, forever alone guy, I hope you find someone who lights up for you, whether it’s within the realms of civilian relationships or the stolen moments of a professional, I sincerely hope you find it. If you’re in Seattle, I’d like to help.

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A for Andromeda by Fred Hoyle and John Elliot

As you well know, I love science fiction because it posits bizarre but universal circumstances and watches humanity respond. Orson Scott Card asks how we would respond to an inscrutable alien race. Ursula K LeGuin asks what we would do in response to gender imbalances and another messiah figure. Hoyle and Elliot ask what we would do when given a gift that seems too good to be true.

The book is slow to begin but short. A long afternoon is plenty of time to follow Dr. Fleming, brilliant astronomer and computer genius, as he discovers a signal from the Andromeda galaxy, interprets it, and comes to deal with the results. The signal codes for a computer faster and more complex than anything dreamt of at the time (written in the 60’s, set in the 70’s) and a program to feed into the computer. While Dr. Fleming and his team work to build and run this supercomputer, political forces push and pull and Fleming himself begins to suspect that this gift has strings attached. The computer begins to learn about humans and prompt them to experiment, eventually resulting in the creation of Andromeda, the beautiful young woman who may be the salvation of humanity or its destruction. Through it all, Dr. Fleming fights with himself, his friends and colleagues, and the powers that be, trying to learn the truth and prevent eventual disaster.

While the book is an easy read, it is not particularly action packed or fast paced or detailed. Character development is left to the reader to infer as large blocks of time pass with only a few sentences to mark them. I would have enjoyed more details in general because I love the act of creating images in my mind that reflect the action. I feel so much more involved in books that give me more to work with. That being said, I think the authors, one of whom is a professor, expect a certain amount of autonomy in their readers. It’s as if they gave me what I needed to craft the story and left the details for me to fill in. The details that are there are creative and interesting. They describe one man’s voice as ‘whinnying’ and Andromeda is described as blonde, with high cheekbones and very baltic looking. I’ve never seen that descriptor but I imagine that the readers of the 60’s did. It is clear that the authors are scientists and academics as the villains of the book are of course the government and the military while the scientists are the last line of defense in a war no one knows is on.

The interesting scenario is this: the computer Fleming creates and the woman it designs present a cheat for the British government. With her ability to communicate directly with the device and with its vastly superior problem solving ability, the government has a quick fix for medicine, agriculture, economics, and defense. However, it is alien technology which Fleming suspects has an ulterior motive. It is almost inevitable that the bureaucratic powers attempt to monopolize the advantages and trivialize the dangers of this new technology, even after several ‘accidental’ deaths by electrocution.

By creating a beautiful woman to act as its liaison, the machine takes advantage of gender dynamics to disarm the overwhelmingly male authority figures. While raising awareness about gender stereotypes was likely not the primary goal when writing this book, the fact that the authors chose to use a female character to serve as the ‘slave’ of the computer illuminates a deep seated perspective of women as subservient and sexual to the exclusion of individual personality. One of the politicians licks his lips when looking at her inert body during its development and our protagonist uses kissing and caressing to try to show her what it’s like to be human. These acts make sense in context and are extremely likely under the circumstances, but that’s part of why this choice raises the issue of women in storytelling. It’s supposed to show how bad the nasty politicians are and how achingly human Fleming can be but it feels cliche in what was otherwise nontraditional story telling. Add to that the fact that Andromeda loses her life only hours after she gains freedom from the machine and we see a female character who has nothing to offer except as a foil for male characters.

The romance was equally placid. She’s a spy set on him and he’s a big brother type who falls easily in and out of ‘love’. She’s conflicted about her roles and he’s oblivious and childish. Perhaps it’s just human but it’s so far outside my experience that it rings hollow. I almost don’t even remember the love interest because she spent the whole book wringing her hands and trying to get out of her responsibilities.

While I found the book entertaining, it is also jolting; plodding and skipping ahead by turns. The first half of the book is about Fleming discovering the message, decoding it, getting excited, getting dejected and playing around with boats and fast cars like a teen hit hard with affluenza, getting passionate, getting apathetic, and eventually getting his way but not really. I love the idea of finding, creating, and figuring out a trojan horse from outer space, but I feel like a rewrite could make so much more from this concept. The writers are obviously intelligent, but so much is missing that it feel less than a news story. It could have been a short story and had a greater impact while taking less time to write or read. It is a good idea and the writers are obviously intelligent, but perhaps I’ve been spoiled by detailed writing that paints rich images in my mind and find a book that relies on me to fill in the gaps too abrupt to enjoy in retrospect. While reading it it was great but I’m already prepared to move on.