Staying Positive.

Wicked Wednesday #43


It’s the end of the year… a new year lies before us. For some 2016 has been a terrible year, for others it’s been the best one ever. We can all make a fresh start in 2017… how are you going to do that?

I’m so happy to see the back of 2016, it was a pretty shitty one for the world and a very shitty one for me personally. Things did start to improve towards the end and I’m back to being able to see that my life can be better.

The main goal, at least for the start of the year is the same as it was for the last few weeks of 2016 – being kind to myself (trying), to not stress about things I should be doing. I’m trying to get rid of the should and have to. I’m taking each day as it comes and not doing very much at all. I’m not beating myself up about either. I feel much more relaxed and I’m sleeping better too. I’ve put on about a stone because I’m not worrying about what I eat, that’s going to change in the next couple of weeks though after the kids go back to school and I get back to a routine. I’ve come up with a few little ideas that I know I can manage and, again, I’m not going to stress about things (try).

Another thing I’ve done over the last few months is muted a lot of my Twitter feed, and I don’t visit blogs as much now either. It was far too painful but things are changing slowly and hopefully now I’ve started writing again I’ll be able to go back to reading blogs and Tweets at some point. I have to say I’d be so lost without Twitter which is why I couldn’t leave altogether. Having no kinky support in real life sucks.

I’m continuing with the meds and therapy, I decided I had to keep seeing the same therapist – can’t run away from everything. It’s going OK even if she is a bit patronising at times, and because they think CBT (the Cognitive one not the other one 😀 ) will be good for me she gives me homework – positive thinking stuff – like I haven’t already tried. Anyway, we’ll see how it goes. I have talked to her a bit about how the break-up has affected me, but not about the kink stuff, maybe I should. I don’t know how, how can I explain my needs? How much I miss having someone to submit to? How on some days I feel like I need someone to physically hurt me to drown out the emotional pain? How can therapy help if I can’t talk about the most important part of me?

One of the things I did know and has been proved is that I needed something, or more accurately, someone to stop me obsessing over the other one because I found myself a safe, real life crush! Once I had actually realised it, I felt free, that a weight had lifted. I think I still need someone to actually fuck me before I can really start moving on, but at least I know it’s possible. The initial good feeling lasted until I got the notebook the other day but now I’ve worked through how I feel about it, and him, the good feeling is back.

I’ve had mini Twitter crushes but as they are so far away I don’t get serious about it. I needed someone I could really see and talk to. And he’s safe because I know that there’s not going to be (or very unlikely to be) anything other than chatting and maybe a little bit of flirting. I know nothing’s going to happen because he’s the nurse with the psychiatric team – strictly off limits – but he’s funny and seems to genuinely care. The last appointment I had the psychiatrist barely even looked at me, but K was asking me things – how I was doing, did I need anything – made me feel better. It was only after I thought I should have said that he couldn’t give me what I really needed. I saw him in town a few days later and again he stopped and asked me how I was. He didn’t have to, but he did, and the way he looked at me, I was thinking, no, he couldn’t have, but he did. So let’s just say I have more to think about now.

I’m thinking at my next appointment about asking if they have cuddle therapy, or will I get a spanking if I don’t do my homework? Although it might be a bit difficult to look at him without blushing or grinning.

More Wicked Wednesday here.



…but I’m a cynical, old bitch

Wicked Wednesday #42



How do you define romance? What to you is a romantic act or an example of a romantic personality?


I’m pretty sure I’ve said more than once here that I don’t believe in romance. Perhaps I should clarify that statement.

I don’t believe in romance for me. If it works for you then I’m delighted. I think it’s a glitch in my personality, I just don’t like sharing some parts of me with others.

I would define romance as the crap you see in films, on TV or read about in novels. Mostly the characters are young, pretty, have money, freedom – those things which make romance a possibility – being whisked away for a romantic weekend in Paris, an intimate dinner in a favourite restaurant, a tasteful, but expensive gift. Hearts and flowers, and even if things aren’t quite perfect, they soon will be. I rarely watch romantic films, I can’t connect to the majority of characters or storylines and I can’t let go enough to just enjoy the story. The same applies to romantic fiction and erotica, there’s no connection. I might read the occasional chick lit if I find it in the charity shop and I’m in the mood for fluff I don’t need to think about, and I do like to read short erotic pieces on blogs, but I don’t have the patience to read much of it. I do read a lot of fiction but I tend to stick to horror, fantasy or books about serial killers. No connection with the characters but I find I can let go more easily.

I know you can have romance without all the bells and whistles, sometimes it only takes a small gesture – doing something nice for someone you love – even if it’s taking over making the dinner or giving them a silly card just because.

One of the problems I have with romance is that romantic gestures have been few and far between in my life, for most of it the closest I got was a bunch of roses (which I hate) and a box of Milk Tray (which I also hate). And this was more of an obligation than a romantic gesture – last minute at a petrol station job because his sister had reminded him it was Valentine’s or Mother’s Day. There were never any other signs of romance. In twenty odd years we went for dinner once, to the pub maybe three or four times, and to the cinema once. We had two family holidays to visit relatives here in Ireland. Never any spontaneity or just because…and blah, blah, blah.

Another problem is Disney. Ever since I saw Bambi, stupid I suppose, but I don’t believe in happy endings. I always preferred the bad guys, still do. They always get the best lines. And Hollywood romance is always bullshit. I do like the girl in Brave though, I would have loved to have been able to watch her when I was a kid. And I love her hair!

Now I find I’m too cranky and cynical for it. I don’t have the patience for games. I find I don’t know how to respond if someone does something nice, I always wonder what they’re after. I don’t like surprises, or having money spent on me, it makes me uncomfortable. For a little while things were OK, like I say, silly little gestures, but I started to feel uncomfortable about things again.

I don’t do well with people getting too close to me, unless they want to fuck me. Too many times ending up in situations I didn’t want.

If you’re interested in me you don’t have to be romantic or pretend to love me, because now I’ll probably just laugh in your face.

More Wicked Wednesday here.


Anthems for the World

Wicked Wednesday #41



Use one (translated) line from the anthem of your country as the first line of a sexy story (please post part of the anthem too).

Before I get started this week I’d like to say thank you Marie for picking my last Wicked Wednesday post as one of your top three 😀

I know this week we were supposed to write something sexy based on our country’s anthem, but honestly, the anthems for Ireland and the UK both suck. I also thought about writing something either in support of women or the 8th amendment, both of which are in the news constantly at the moment. Maya Angelou’s ‘Phenomenal Woman’ was up there. Then I read another one of her poems and was struck by the fact that at the moment the whole world is up shit creek. 2016 seems to have been one of the worst and weirdest years yet.

So I have two world anthems – ‘A Brave And Startling Truth’ by Maya Angelou and ‘A Pale Blue Dot’ by Carl Sagan,

A Brave And Startling Truth – Poem by Maya Angelou

We, this people, on a small and lonely planet
Traveling through casual space
Past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns
To a destination where all signs tell us
It is possible and imperative that we learn
A brave and startling truth

And when we come to it
To the day of peacemaking
When we release our fingers
From fists of hostility
And allow the pure air to cool our palms

When we come to it
When the curtain falls on the minstrel show of hate
And faces sooted with scorn are scrubbed clean
When battlefields and coliseum
No longer rake our unique and particular sons and daughters
Up with the bruised and bloody grass
To lie in identical plots in foreign soil

When the rapacious storming of the churches
The screaming racket in the temples have ceased
When the pennants are waving gaily
When the banners of the world tremble
Stoutly in the good, clean breeze

When we come to it
When we let the rifles fall from our shoulders
And children dress their dolls in flags of truce
When land mines of death have been removed
And the aged can walk into evenings of peace
When religious ritual is not perfumed
By the incense of burning flesh
And childhood dreams are not kicked awake
By nightmares of abuse

When we come to it
Then we will confess that not the Pyramids
With their stones set in mysterious perfection
Nor the Gardens of Babylon
Hanging as eternal beauty
In our collective memory
Not the Grand Canyon
Kindled into delicious color
By Western sunsets

Nor the Danube, flowing its blue soul into Europe
Not the sacred peak of Mount Fuji
Stretching to the Rising Sun
Neither Father Amazon nor Mother Mississippi who, without favor,
Nurture all creatures in the depths and on the shores
These are not the only wonders of the world

When we come to it
We, this people, on this minuscule and kithless globe
Who reach daily for the bomb, the blade and the dagger
Yet who petition in the dark for tokens of peace
We, this people on this mote of matter
In whose mouths abide cankerous words
Which challenge our very existence
Yet out of those same mouths
Come songs of such exquisite sweetness
That the heart falters in its labor
And the body is quieted into awe

We, this people, on this small and drifting planet
Whose hands can strike with such abandon
That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living
Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness
That the haughty neck is happy to bow
And the proud back is glad to bend
Out of such chaos, of such contradiction
We learn that we are neither devils nor divines

When we come to it
We, this people, on this wayward, floating body
Created on this earth, of this earth
Have the power to fashion for this earth
A climate where every man and every woman
Can live freely without sanctimonious piety
Without crippling fear

When we come to it
We must confess that we are the possible
We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world
That is when, and only when
We come to it.


Pale Blue Dot – Carl Sagan

Look again at that dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every “superstar,” every “supreme leader,” every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there–on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds.

Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.

The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.

It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.

Pale blue dot image with a wider field of view to show more background

More Wicked Wednesday here.



Wicked Wednesday #40



Inspiration for this prompt come from the open and honest way of writing by M of the blog Cammies on floor, during and after the breakup with her husband. Many who read that must have thought of their own break-ups, their own slutfests, their own way of dealing with the heartbreak. Come on, share yours with the world.

A slutfest would be good

right about now.

To spend hours and days

fucking you out of my head.

To have someone else

run their hands

over my body.

A new mouth to kiss and bite.

A myriad of new bodies

to explore.

Each one different

to you.

New hands

new mouths

new cocks.


To be able to leave you behind.

A series of one night stands

to be the slut

that I know I am.

Hands between my thighs

searching between the folds

to find the wetness within.

Slick fingers stroking my clit

swollen with need.

Sliding inside me

to banish you.

To be fucked

again and again

night after night

one after the other

cock after cock

until there is nothing left.

My mind empty and quiet.

I wish.


More Wicked Wednesday here.

A sad countdown

Wicked Wednesday #I don’t know :/

My countdown is neither sexy nor happy. So you may want to skip this post.



Six weeks ago I said I was taking a bit of a break as my dad was ill. I’ve still posted occasionally because things have been a bit all over the place, not knowing exactly what was happening. He was in and out of hospital for a couple of weeks for more tests, and was diagnosed with an aggressive stage four liver cancer, which was secondary. They also found cancer cells in his oesophagus. He started chemo last week but unfortunately he’s condition has deteriorated so quickly we’re just on a countdown now. And to be honest I don’t know if we’re talking hours, days, maybe a couple of weeks.

The only good thing is that things have happened so fast that he hasn’t had to undergo weeks of gruelling treatment that would have only given him a few extra months and left us with horrible memories.

The most important thing for us is that he’s comfortable and he’s close to home.

And yes, I’ll still be around on Twitter. I need to have something to take my mind off things.

More Wicked Wednesday here.



What I’d like

Wicked Wednesday #38


Have you seen the new guy yet? Or do you remember back when he as still the new guy? Write a sexy story about him. Yes, him!

This is more about what I’d like if I met a new guy.

It seems that every time I see a new guy I always assess his fuckability. Wherever I am, on the street, in a shop, just out and about, if I see someone new, I wonder.

The first thing isn’t so much looks, it’s age – too young or too old? Then I’d move on to looks, and I’m not too fussy – height, weight, cleanish.

Then I spend some time weaving a fantasy, wondering how we’d start chatting, the things we’d talk about,  what it would be like to kiss him, how his hands would feel on my body. Would he be nervous? (cute) Or would he be confident, assured (fucking hot!) And would he be one of those guys who instinctively knows how to make you feel good. There are those that have no clue beyond the basics, some guys know what to do, but not how to do it. Others? They’re the ones I want. They watch how you react, take the time to find out what makes you moan, sigh and gasp. The ones who are interested in making sure you’re enjoying it. The ones who take the time to get to know your body, slowly, revealing it inch by inch.

I want a new guy, I need a new guy. I don’t need to be wined and dined, I don’t drink very much and there’s not a huge lot of things I can eat anymore. I don’t want someone who wants to go on extravagant dates, I’ve never really dated and it makes me uncomfortable. I’d just like someone I can have a conversation with, to laugh with and just be. I think I’m pretty low maintenance. I don’t even need to hear from him or see him all the time.

I’d like a new guy, around the six foot mark, who can wrap his arms around me and make me feel safe, I don’t mind if he works out a bit but I don’t like bodybuilders. A dad-bod is more my thing. I’m not a size queen, but I want a cock I can feel, PIV isn’t everything but I want to feel it, I want my cunt stretched and filled when he fucks me. I want him to know when to be in control, the difference between making love and fucking. I want someone I can trust, who makes me feel good about me. And if he’s kinky and wants to tie me up, spank me, use and abuse me, I wouldn’t say no. Well, I might but I’m sure you know what I mean  😀

More Wicked Wednesday here.


Just a quick post

Wicked Wednesday #37

I know I said I wouldn’t be around much but we all know how well that works for me 😀 I’ve an empty house, everyone’s back to school and I need something to do.

As it’s September 1st, and I want to keep up with ‘Self Love September’ I thought this would fit in quite nicely with this week’s Wicked Wednesday prompt (I know it’s Thursday) which is –


Dear Diary…

Did you ever have a diary to which you told all your secrets? Or maybe you still have a diary? Share something sexy from your diary or share a sexy story with the prompt ‘Dear Diary’.

I’ve always tried keeping a diary but I’ve never done more than fill in a couple of pages before losing interest. I never seemed to have much to write about and it was more of an excuse to buy pretty notebooks.

Since I did a short course on writing a couple of years ago I’ve finally managed to get the habit. I now have notebooks for several different things – personal, quotes, ideas, stories etc. – and what better reason for starting another one than learning to love myself. This not just about how I look, this is about the whole package. Trying to figure out why I feel the way I do about the things that I don’t understand about myself, and my whole outlook on pretty much everything that’s got me to this point in my life.

I’ve already found that writing out my thoughts has helped me figure out several things about me, so I hope that by keeping a journal for the month while I read lots of new-agey self-help stuff will get me a little way further on my journey to liking me.

I hope to post a few times to let you know how I’m getting on, and also share any sites that I find interesting or useful.


These are my notebooks of choice, this one still in its wrapper. 192 pages of creamy 120gsm loveliness. An absolute bargain at €4.

More Wicked Wednesday here.