From: [email protected]
Newsgroups: alt.sex.bondage
Subject: Cold Feet
Message-ID: <[email protected]>
Date: 1 Nov 91 03:28:15 GMT
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From Nurse Jones,
Oops. Sorry. The List 11/14 was incomplete because I put a "--" at the start
of a line. I'll repost it.
So I sent in the last of column one of The List. Now I have to get up the
courage to send column two. This one hits closer to home, though. What Jay
did to me reveals stuff about HIS psyche, which is fine with me. But what I
am doing to Jay reveals stuff about MY psyche.
I feel weird enough admitting that I put up with the stuff he did to
me. As I look back now, everything got out of balance. I was so lonely in
Chicago and had fantasized so much about, well, everything: getting back
together with him, bondage, whatever, that I kind of lost my sense of
reality. My sense of balance. I did weird stuff. It gets weirder as I get
further away from it.
So I'm getting cold feet about column two. In fact, the last parts of
column one were pretty shameful, and I wonder if I should have let them go.
I had cold feet about them, too. But I said what the hell, and pushed the
return key.
Besides, I'm not sure how column two is going to come out. If I send
the first parts in now, it will be without any "notes from the future." So
there will be a pause in the action.
NOW, you can ask for the parts you missed and I'll try to e-mail them,
but I must have had hundreds of requests. I will be slow getting them out at
two a day, and I will undoubtedly cause a wizjam at logvax since a lot of
files larger than 30 lines would be going through it.
-*-
OK, it's time to admit something. I have a problem. If you've read my
posts, I've been experimenting on Jay with hypnosis. He wants to know what
it's like to be a woman. I like men that are unambiguously masculine.
Gentle, sensitive, but definitely male. That's a problem. Here's the
admission: I've also been a little intrigued by women. A LITTLE! They are
emotionally more complex than most men. I can talk to women. There are a
couple of lesbians at the hospital. They haven't made passes at me or
anything, but I ended up at their table once in the cafeteria. I liked
talking to them, but the idea of kissing a woman leaves me dead cold. So
I'm kind of half tempted to see what Jay would be like as a woman. But he
won't really be one, will he. I think I could make love to Jay if he were
miraculously in a woman's body. But that's because it would be almost like
masturbating: I feel like he's part of me now. It would be like making love
to myself.
So here I am, poised on the edge of something, once again playing the
dual part of fools and angels, wanting to rush in and fearing to tread at
the same time. I could destroy my image of Jay by screwing with his
sexuality. It could wreck our relationship if he took on feminine
characteristics for, say, an evening. I might not be able to handle it. He
might be icky, campy, a ponce. This isn't homophobia, I don't think. I just
have an irrational fear of people suddenly becoming something that you
didn't think they were. The movie The Exorcist. Invasion of the Body
Snatchers. These were horiffic for me. Not because I'm frightened by the
devil or aliens, but by people changing on me unexpectedly, being something
they aren't supposed to be. If Jay suddenly started acting like a certified
public accountant, it would scare me just as much, I think, because it
wouldn't be him anymore. It all goes back to my father, doctor.
Maybe someone can give me an angle here. My fears are laid out. Maybe
someone with more experience can help me get past this roadblock. I've
never been on this ground before. Up to now our games have been safe.
Mainly physical. Maybe we should just leave this alone and go back to
vanilla bondage. Stay away from serious mindfucks. As I said to someone
yesterday, the brain is, after all, my second favorite organ.
Nurse Jones,
cold feet on the threshold and wanting her bunny slippers back.
PS. Speaking of the good old days: remember that J saved the plaster cast of
my torso? He said he was going to use it later?
(Gawd.) I'm startin' to tawk laik a southern belle? Y'all hear? Every
sentence a question? Y'know how they do that?
Anyway, he did, while I was in SF this summer. He made another version of
the front of the plastic torso that does interesting things to the boobs.
Imagine me on my hands and knees, tits hanging down. Now imagine me
standing up, tits in the same position, as though gravity were pulling west
instead of south. That's what it does. With peekaboo nipples, no less. But
that's all part of the beginning of Column Two, which will take some foot
warming. Unless you want to regard this post as the beginning of column
two. You see, column one stands alone because I was lurking rather than
communicating while we were doing it. Now, the three, posting, doing and
writing, seem not to be so separate. I can see the crowd at ASB becoming
part of the story already.
--
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