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Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Coming clean

I am debating -- have been for a while -- whether to give M the address of this blog. He knows I write one and he knows it's anonymous, but I haven't told him what I write about.

On one hand, I really don't want to tell him. I love the total freedom, the ability to truly write whatever I want without fear of reprisal. I don't want to censor myself at all here, because it's become a form of therapy (or would be if I posted more often.) If I write about something, I can jettison it from my mind -- if it's a bad thought it no longer bothers me, and if it's a good (but distracting) thought I can get it out of my head and actually get some school work done.

I intend to, and have, used the writing here to work through my sexuality, both the vanilla and the kinky. I want to understand the deep, freaky parts of myself, and I'm worried that if I know someone intimate to me in my real life is reading, I might be afraid to go there. I'm also a little worried about how he'd feel about the things I disclose about our sex life -- I do get a little graphic about my partners here. Also, my stories are true in essence but not always in detail (I sometimes melt several sessions into one) and I don't want someone nit-picking with "that's not how it happened."

Finally, there's the possiblity that he could out me, accidentally or on purpose. As a financially-challenged, ostenibly virginal Christian student still living with her parents, I can't afford to be disowned because of my salacious writing, so I guard my anonymity fiercely. You have to be extremely trustworthy and open-minded before you're allowed to link my real-life identity to my online one, and although I have no real reason to doubt him, I've only known him two months.

On the other hand, the tempation is strong to show him exactly what kind of a sexual creature I am. I am not a virginal Christian -- I'm a slut in the best sense of the word, hungry and eager for his cock. I write about sex -- I spread my mind and my legs on the 'net for the world to see, if they so desire. I'm an exhibitionist, a masochist, a submissive. I post naked (or half-nekkid) pictures of myself. I fantasize about being a model for hogtied.com. My favourite movie is Secretary. If he wants to know exactly what he's getting with me, here's the place for him to find out.

I'm not just the bookish girl in the glasses and sweatshirt or his vanilla girlfriend -- I'm something more, something other. I am not what I seem! I'm dying to tell him this, to lay it out on the table for him to see. But I'm shy. The words stick in my mouth and he has to draw them out of me, slowly and painfully. For all my sluttish tendencies, my online boldness, I am still not comfortable talking, audibly, about sex. Giving him this web address would make it easier to communicate -- in fact, it would be like giving him an all-access pass to the X-rated parts of my brain. That's tremendously appealing, but it's the easy way out. It's also scary as hell. I'm so used to editing myself for safe consumption; can I really show him the freaky parts and trust him to accept them?

This post is all over the place -- I tried to give it structure but I think it just ended up as a random smattering of angsty thoughts. I haven't decided what to do yet; I'll probably give it a few more months, unless it tumbles unbidden out of my mouth one day and all these considerations will be moot. But I realized something as I wrote this: whatever happens, I refuse to sublimate my desires any longer. I'll tell him -- somehow.

1 Comments:

Blogger suburban sexpot said...

well, keep in mind, you cannot unring a bell.

good luck with whatever choice you make. ;)

3:24 PM  

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