"Well it's alright
even when you're old and gray.
Well, it's alright
you still got something to say."
From "The End Of The Line" by The Traveling Wilburys
A few months ago, I made an announcement on Fetlife that I was leaving the organized spanking scene. This was something I never saw happening, but there it is. My decision wasn't made rashly, in a moment of anger because I can't seem to find play partners. The decision actually took months to make. I started thinking about it in summer time. I was thinking to myself "Why continue wasting your time? It's pretty obvious that no one is interested in playing with you and it looks like parties aren't going to be happening anymore either. So just stop it." And so I finalized my decision and put a short note on Fetlife letting the people who weren't interested in playing with me that I had decided to leave the scene. A few people wrote that they respected my decision, while disappointed that I was leaving.
I will state right here that I really am not leaving with any bitterness. Disappointment? You bet. But I'm not bitter. I met and played with some wonderful people. I had a door to a whole new world opened to me; a door that never would have opened otherwise. I experienced more than I ever thought I would in my thirteen years in the scene. More importantly, I had my sister with me for seven of those years. It was her decision to attend a Chicago Crimson Moon party alone that gave me the courage to follow her. Oh, the fun we had together! I cherish all those memories even more now that she's gone. Going on without her was rough, but I soldiered on with the help of friends and family. Of course, it wasn't really the same. And I'm pretty sure if she were still here, she would lament the change in the spanking scene the same way I have (but probably with a bit more wit and humor).
To me, the spanking scene has become a popularity contest. The popular folks have now set the course of the scene to the point that, if you're not a "Fetlebrity" (someone famous on Fetlife), you're nothing. I hate to say it, but it's true. At one time, I would have probably considered myself a minor Fetlebrity. I had been on the site long enough to have a detailed profile and over 1700 photos posted. I went to parties in Chicago and as far afield as Atlantic City and Detroit. I was shocked when, about five years ago, I went to a hardcore BDSM event in St. Louis and several people told me they had "heard of" me. I was flattered because, believe me, I valued few things in the scene more than I did my reputation. I've stated before how hard I worked to get a good reputation; as someone who was both fun to play with, but also fun. Was I everyone's cup of tea? Certainly not. But then, I don't know of anyone who is. There are certainly people who think they are. We used to say these people "think they're all that and the box it came in." To me, nothing is a bigger turn off than arrogance and, sad to say, there's just too much of it in the scene these days. There are too many people out there whose attitude is that the scene would somehow collapse if they weren't there to prop it up. Here's a shot of truth: the spanking scene will be just fine without you. It will be just fine without me. It existed before I ever knew about it, much less participated and it will continue to exist now that I've left. I have no illusions that I'm somehow bigger than the scene. I was but a minor player on that stage.
To be fair, it wasn't just the changes in the scene that factored in my decision to leave. I have also had to adjust to changes in my body that had begun to make playing more and more difficult. I suffered two major flairs of my RA; one last spring and one in the fall (from which I still haven't fully recovered). What man wants to play with a woman who has to kill the moment (and takes her top out of top space) by constantly having to reposition? My hips and back hurt almost constantly from damage done by this progressive disease. I can understand the tops wanting to play with younger, more lithe and flexible women, who can hold those demanding positions. I would think that any top who expects a 56-year-old bottom who weighs over 200 pounds and has RA to bend over and touch her toes is begging to be disappointed. I can't do it; not just physically, but mentally. I have an intense fear of falling down. In 2012 I had a vitreous detachment in my right eye which affected my depth perception. So now, when I go down a flight of stairs, I take great care. Also, because I'm so top heavy, if I'm asked to bend over, once I get my weight going in one direction, it's hard to stop the momentum created by having large breasts and a thick stomach. Yeah, not a sexy thought at all. Fat girl falling down. Last summer, while walking to work, I misjudged how high to lift my foot to step over a bundle of firewood that had fallen off the pallet, my foot caught the edge of it and I took a spectacular tumble over it. Ten people must have seen me fall and only one person stopped to make sure I was OK. I wasn't wearing work clothes so he had no idea I going to work. I'm pretty sure that fall triggered that autumn's RA flair. So can you imagine any top wanting to play with a fat older lady with poor balance and a fear of falling?
You know, I always said that I would remain active in the scene until my bones were too brittle to risk love taps. It never occurred to me that a time would come when demand would fall for anyone wanting to play with me. I always thought I would be the one who decided when I left. Perhaps that was arrogant of me and I guess I have to own that. I was so busy being excited about parties and pantie shopping that I never realized that tastes would change down the road. I think, like a few other things concerning the scene, I was led down a path or sold a bill of goods or however you want to phrase it. I was assured, each time my insecurities would rear their ugly heads, that fun, approachable bottoms would always be in demand. Well, someone define "fun" and "approachable" because I thought I knew what those words meant. More and more at parties, I would find myself prowling the empty hallways looking for someone who might want to play. Usually, I had no luck. In the beginning, Carol and I were two of the busier bottoms in the group. That's not bragging; it's the truth. In the end, I was reduced to playing with men I would have never given a second glance to in the days when I could afford to be choosy. When that realization hit me, I knew it was time to leave.
And so now I bid adieu to that world--that world of hotel parties and road trips. Of yellow couches and midnight burger runs. To bruises and cane marks and giggling. I'll miss that world, but I'll never regret for one minute having lived in it.