Thursday, February 20, 2014

Spanking Parties: House vs. Hotel

Having recently attended a house party (and enjoyed it tremendously) I have been thinking the last few days about the differences between the two kinds of parties, house and hotel. I have much more experience with hotel parties over the years. The house party that I attended over the weekend was actually only my second in more than ten years of scene life. So, based on my limited experience of house parties, I'm going to try to explain the differences (at least the ones I observed).

First of all, house parties differ from hotel parties in that you have been invited into some one's private home. This is the place where the host and/or hostess feels most safe and in control. A party attendee should never take being asked to a house party for granted. It's an astounding privilege that has been extended to you. At a hotel party, while you may well be there by invitation only, you're not in some one's home. Yes, you should treat the rooms with respect. But there isn't that cozy feeling of being in some one's home.

Secondly, don't expect the constant activity of a hotel party at a house party. A house party is more than likely to be a lot less about spanking play than a hotel party. It's much more likely to be about spankos just relaxing and socializing. House parties are usually free (even though you may be asked to bring some kind of food or drink) so there's no scrambling to get your money's worth that you might do at a hotel party, where a fee is usually paid. This isn't to say that spanking doesn't happen at a house party. Just don't be disappointed at how little play is actually going on.

Thirdly, at house parties, the attendees are likely to know each other well and have socialized before. Whereas, at a hotel party, the party goers are less likely to know each other as well. That's not to say that hotel party attendees can't be very good friends who know each other well. It's just that given the nature of spanking groups, it's inevitable that there should be people attending who are attending their first event. At a house party, a stranger is unlikely to be invited unless someone will vouch for or sponsor that person.

Fourthly, a house party, because of lack of space, is going to be much smaller than a hotel party. The biggest average home is still smaller than a hotel. And in a hotel, there is likely to be a ballroom or a conference room that can be used for socializing. In a private home, the largest room is likely to be a living room or rec room. Still, you shouldn't be swinging straps and canes where there are lamps or things that could be knocked over and broken.

Fifthly, if the host/hostess has designated that there will be no food or drink outside of the kitchen or dining room, then respect that. I've heard horror stories from people who have had to have their carpets cleaned or had to repaint a wall after a house party where the people were rowdier than they would have liked. And always respect "no smoking" zones that the host has established. At the house party I just attended, everyone smoked out on the enclosed porch, despite the fact that it was a cold, February night. In a hotel setting, of course, there is no smoking anyway (here in Illinois at any rate) but I've seen people ignore that and smoke anyway.

House parties can be a lot of fun. But remember that, just like at a hotel party, a lot of work has gone into organizing a house party. This would include house cleaning, yard work, shopping for groceries and supplies and networking with prospective attendees. That's not to say that hotel parties don't involve logistics. But a group putting on a hotel party is more likely to have help with these tasks. A person throwing a house party is more likely to have done it all alone. This isn't a given, but attend a house party with this in mind.

I would love to be able to host a house party, but I can't in my current situation. But I see that changing in the future.

Monday, February 10, 2014

"Look At Me!" or How To Deal With Attention Seekers

When I was in high school, I had a friend who was a bit of an attention whore. Maybe "a bit" is an understatement. Maybe saying "full blown 24/7" is closer to the truth. Whenever we went anywhere together, she HAD to be the center of attention. It wasn't enough that she got noticed, she had to be THE one everyone noticed. She was a younger version of Blanche on "The Golden Girls". This friend, like Blanche, believed she was the prettiest and most desirable of those of us who were friends of hers. She would pout or flounce out of the room if every head didn't turn when she walked in. She was everything I wasn't; thin, blond and beautiful. However, she seldom had a steady boyfriend and spent a lot of nights at home while the rest of us went out and had fun. I'm sure a lot of the boys at our school were afraid to approach her because her rejections were legendary. The boys she dated had to have money and a nice car and dress in the latest style. Pretty shallow, I know. But when a girl has nothing going for her but looks, then that's all she looks for in other people. I used to wonder why she befriended me. I was certainly not on her social scale. And when it came to looks, forget it. I couldn't hold a candle to her. One of our mutual friends suggested that she hung around us because we were no threat to her. If she had developed a clique of girls who were just as pretty as she was, then she would have had to spend most of her time competing with those other girls for attention. And she didn't want to do that, obviously. This way, she was assured of always being the center of attention whenever we went out. I was young and I wasn't self-aware enough to know that she chose girls like me to be friends with because we made her look good.

When I got older and I was making my own money for the first time, I filled my closet with pretty clothes and I learned how to put on make up. I saw this girl a few years after we got out of school. She was living with an abusive alcoholic. Her once beautiful features were marred by black circles under her eyes from lack of sleep and she wasn't dressed in the latest fashions either. She pushed a baby in a used stroller and wore a man's coat. I was enormously embarrassed to be seeing her like this. I had never seen her at anything but her best before that moment. This girl, who wouldn't even date a boy if his car wasn't brand new, was waiting for the city bus when I ran into her. I asked her for her number so I could keep in touch with her, but she replied that she didn't have a phone. Then her bus came. I was sad for her, watching her  struggle to get the stroller onto the bus. When I got home later that day, I told my mother I had run into Amy and I related to her the circumstances she was in. My mother shook her head and said "She's reaping what she sowed." I couldn't shake the thought of Amy, who was always the prettiest and most glamorous girl I'd ever known, was living in a house without a phone with an alcoholic who abused her. A lot of people might have gloated and said "How the mighty have fallen!" but I just couldn't do that. Yes, I know she used us to make herself look good. Yes, I also know that she occasionally laughed about me behind my back. But we were stupid, selfish children in those days. We were adults now and Amy was a mother. A few months ago, I was sitting in the break room at work eating my lunch when I saw her obituary in the newspaper. She was my age, 52 at the time and had died with her grandson in a car accident in Arizona, where she had been living with her daughter and son-in-law. It was this tragedy that had made me think of Amy after all these years. Her funeral was held locally because she had wanted to be buried next to a husband who had died in the 90s. So I went to her visitation and funeral. When I got to the visitation, the casket was closed, a testament to how violent the accident had been. There were pictures of her all over the place, looking just as I remembered her--beautiful and decked out in the best. She had obviously married someone who was very good to her. I met her daughter, the child she had been pushing in the stroller that day. It was her son who had died in the wreck and her sorrow was palpable. I couldn't even imagine losing a parent and a child in one fell swoop. I introduced myself and told her "Your mom and I went to school together." She asked if I was Cheryl and I said "yes". She went on to tell me how much her mother had admired me and how she had been mortified at me seeing her in that state all those years ago, when bad decisions had forced her to live a life she never imagined for herself.

Attention seekers have always been with us. And they abound in the spanking scene. To a certain extent, I'm one of them. I feel like I have to keep up with the traffic or I'll get left eating the dust of all the pretty young girls in the scene. While I enjoy attention, I don't have to be THE center of every one's attention. And besides, I can't compete at my age with the 20-somethings. They all have their sweet smiles, perky boobs and bottoms and their adorable personalities. I had my time to be in my 20s. Granted, there was no spanking scene back then and no social media like Fetlife with which to play on. Heck, there was no Internet. There were personal computers back then, but they were very limited. Even if there had been an Internet when I was in my 20's, I didn't have the kind of personality in those days to put myself out there like I do now. It took many years and a lot of trial and error to get me where I am now.

So does one deal with attention seekers? First of all, you have to know that there are different kinds off attention seekers. There are the kinds that are so cute and so sweet that you can't help but love them. There are the kinds that are a bit more irritating because they don't want to share the spotlight. These are the ones you might give a tolerant smile to instead of voicing your irritation. But there's another kind of attention seeker; the kind that act more like divas and who can't abide anyone else even getting any kind of attention. Fetlife exists just for them to be seen and admired. Thankfully, there aren't very many of those and they are easily ignored. Many of these divas not only post photos simply for the attention they know it will get them, but they generate drama whenever possible in order to keep others focused on them. The photos I can deal with. The drama, not so much. Drama Queens are attention seekers in one sense. Someone causes them a few seconds' worth of discomfort and life as we know it should end while they sort out feelings they are ill-equipped to deal with because people have always worshipped them. Welcome to the real world, sweetheart. The world is full of people for whom you have no significance. I mean, have your tantrum and then get over it. This is how the rest of us live. Not every minor disappointment is worthy of three days of your drama.

Please don't think that I'm being insensitive. I try to be there for my friends, no matter how trivial the problem. That's part of what being a friend is; telling that other person "I'm here for you!" The average person, who has lived a life filled with disappointments and challenges, learns how to pick and choose what's worth getting worked up over and which ones are best shrugged off. Take a chill pill, Jill. Just because the store is out of your favorite coffee or someone cut you off in traffic is no reason to make the rest of us miserable, too. The best way to deal with people like this is to ignore them, much like a parent ignores their child's temper tantrum. Take away the diva's stage and there's no point to the drama. Now I'm not speaking about the person who occasionally posts a status like this: "Grrrrr!! The store is out of my coffee!" I'm talking about the person who doesn't know how to deal with even the smallest setback in their day without making sure everyone knows about it. They aren't used to seeing other people going on with their lives and laughing and having fun without them. It's unthinkable that life doesn't just go on pause when something negative happens to them. They are the center of their own universe and therefor, they think they are the center of everyone's universe. Well, sorry to disappoint you, but you're not. Of course, I want everyone to be happy. And if a friend of mine is having a bad day for whatever reason, then I usually offer to call them and ask them privately if there's anything I can do. For a drama queen, this isn't good enough. Everything has to take place where other people can see and give them even more attention. They aren't happy until every person in the feed is commenting on their journal entry or posting comments on their photos of the soufflĂ© that fell.

Yes, there are attention seekers on Fetlife and in the scene. How you deal with them will sometimes, unfortunately, determine what kind of day the rest of us in the feed have.

Sunday, February 9, 2014

Playing It Safe

The spanking scene is full of wonderful people. Caring, funny, compassionate people. But it's also blackened by predators, egomaniacs and wanna bes. Figuring out who is who and navigating the waters of the scene is difficult, even for seasoned participators. Of course, most of us have some sort of "inner voice" or "gut feeling" that we listen to when we aren't sure how to proceed or when we're in a situation where we're unsure of ourselves. But even that isn't foolproof.

My sister and I entered the spanking scene in early 2003. Neither of us had any experience when we came in. Carol got together once with a gentlemen she'd met on the Crimson Moon Yahoo Group. But I had no experience at all until I attended my first party. From the outset, safety was emphasized, both for party play and for private play dates. We both knew better than to meet someone privately that we didn't know. However, because we weren't young women in our 20's we felt safe because we weren't in most criminals' "victim profile". Being a huge fan of true crime novels and documentaries, I've read countless books and seen countless documentaries accounting women who acted injudiciously. I knew how to be safe.

When Carol and I first came into the scene, we had rules in place when it came to play. The man always came to us. And we always played together. We figured there was safety in numbers. The man would meet us at a neutral site and then he would follow us to the house. Neither one of us ever wanted to be in a situation where we were trapped in a vehicle with a man who might have a lot more than spanking us in mind. All of this worked well and the men who we played with never had one single problem with cooperating with our rules. All of that changed in 2006.

I had been in the scene for three and a half years at that time. I thought I was above being gamed. I thought I was too smart to fall into the hands of a predator, But, for all of that, I did. It started in 2005, shortly before Carol's breast cancer was diagnosed. Through another Yahoo group, I met a man online who seemed like a pretty good fit for me as a play partner. He was vague about some aspects of his life, such as where he actually lived, but I figured he had to be discreet. He told me right off the bat that he was married but that his wife was OK with him getting together with other women provided there was no sex involved. I told him, rather apologetically, that I wanted to speak to his wife. If he was sneaking around on her, I didn't want to be his little thing on the side. To my amazement, he handed off the phone to her. "Here, Cheryl wants to talk to you." So I spoke to her and she was delightful. She said that, because she had MS she could no longer participate in that part of their lives and she told me she had given him her blessing to go out and play with other women. The man, who went by the name "Jack" then got back on the line and told me that his wife (who's name was either Robyn or Randi, I can't remember which now) was the best thing that ever happened to him and that they were still very much in love, even after almost 30 years of marriage. We made tentative plans to meet. I still wasn't sure if Carol was going to have the day off or not. And, as much as I liked this guy, I wasn't sure I wanted to meet him alone. I didn't drive and so transportation was going to be an issue. If Carol was going to be there, we would simply do as we'd always done and that was meet at a neutral site and let him follow us to the house. Well, that date didn't work out because Carol had to work. So I told him I couldn't meet him. Just before Christmas, her cancer was diagnosed and most of my desire to play or to engage in frivolous things was put on the back burner as we faced her treatments. My main focus was working and taking care of Carol's needs, seeing that she was kept clean and comfortable while she underwent chemotherapy.

In March, 2006 Carol finished her first round of chemo and went back to work. I wanted to start playing again but felt kind of guilty about telling her that. Her desire to play wasn't quenched and we even got together with a trusted and adored friend two days after her hair fell out. I had kept in contact with "Jack" all during those awful days following her diagnosis. He was understanding because of his wife's illness and could relate to the things I was going through. I felt a bond with him because of that. And I wanted to get together with him. We discussed a date sometime after Easter. I don't remember now what date we set, but it was around mid-April, sometime after the end of tax season. Carol, unfortunately, couldn't join us because she had to work. But she did volunteer to drop me off at the neutral site we always picked on her way to work. She also wanted to meet him. He had sent her a touching card and had also sent her the name of another breast cancer survivor that she could talk to if she needed to. What a sweet guy, I thought. As we waited in the parking lot for him, I began to have second thoughts about meeting someone in my home alone. But I figured I had talked to him on the phone for months. I had poured out my heart to him concerning my sister's illness. So I ignored my misgivings and went ahead with the play date. When he pulled up, I knew it was him  by the description he'd given me of his car. I hadn't seen a photo of him yet and, in fact, when he'd offered to send me one, I had said no to it. Looks are about the last thing I'm interested in when it comes to a play partner. He looked so harmless, almost like a Casper Milquetoast-type of guy. He wasn't physically intimidating in the least. He was sweet and funny and he made a very good impression on both Carol and I. I trusted her judgment implicitly. She had worked in the gas station business and was way more street smart than I was. So with that hurdle cleared, off we went.

Carol went off in the direction of her job and "Jack" and I headed for the house. He followed my directions exactly and never made one false move towards me. We made small talk until we reached the house. Once we were there, I unlocked the door and we went in. I got him comfortable on the couch and got him a cold drink. While I smoked a cigarette, he called "Robyn" and let her know that he had made it. Despite the fact that I offered to let him use the phone in the kitchen he insisted on using his cellphone. I didn't think too much about it at the time. When he was done talking to his wife, he opened his toy bag and asked me if I wanted to look through it. He had some wonderful toys, all of my favorites, in fact. There was nothing dark or foreboding in his bag. We started playing and he was a compete gentleman. He started out slowly and seemed to be taking his time. He was a wonderful spanker and we laughed and talked a lot. I relaxed and let my guard down. We continued playing and, around one o'clock we decided to break for lunch. He took me to one of my favorite places and told me to order anything I wanted. We ate and talked more. He again makes no false move towards me and never says one inappropriate thing to me. We both ate hungrily and talked about what we were going to do with the rest of the afternoon. I went to the rest room while he paid the bill. I met him at his car and we drove back to the house.

Once we were back at the house, I had another cigarette while "Jack" used the rest room. I called Carol at work and spoke with her about how the day was going. She confessed she'd been a little bit worried about me and was relieved to hear from me. When I hung up, "Jack" came out of the bathroom and asked if I wanted to play again. Sure, I did. But this time, the play was a little different. He spanked me harder this time. At the time, I attributed it to the fact that we'd both been reinforced with food and now knew each other better. I started to reach my saturation point and wanted a break. "OK, get up," he told me. When I got up off his knee, I started to pull my pants up. He frowned. "We're not done," he said. I shook my head because I didn't think I'd heard him right. I told him "I think it's time to call it a day. I'm toast." He assured me the spanking was over. But we were going to do something else. "We're gonna fuck," he told me. "It's all I've thought about since I saw you this morning." "No, there won't be any sex," I said. "I told you that already." While I was talking to him, I didn't really notice him walking towards me. He put his hand around my throat and said "Sweetheart, you're gonna do exactly what I tell you to do." I was facing the dining room and he was facing the door. Our house had an open floor plan, so the living room, dining room and kitchen were all one room. The kitchen and dining room were separated only by a long counter. On the counter, we kept a block with knives in it. I was calculating whether or not I could get to one of those knives before he harmed me. "Jack" kept his hand on my throat and with the other hand began to unzip his pants. My mind was racing, as you can imagine. All I can remember really doing was praying. I asked God to get me out of this situation. Before "Jack" could do anything, a brown UPS truck drove into the driveway right behind his car. I quickly pulled my pants up and went onto the walkway to meet him. He had a package for me. "Do I need to sign for it?" I asked. The delivery man said yes and I signed the signature capture with shaking hands. While I was doing that, "Jack" came out and said it was time he was leaving. He got in his car and as he did, I noted his license plate number. He was annoyed at having to wait for the UPS truck to leave before he could leave. Despite being dyslexic, I could memorize numbers easily. I was able to keep the number in my head until I was able to write it down. I locked the door in case he came back. I thought about calling the police. But then I thought they would probably not take my complaint seriously. I'd invited the guy into my home and taken my pants off for him voluntarily. So I decided not to. But I was badly shaken. I called Carol again and asked her to come home. I wouldn't tell her over the phone what had happened, I just wanted her to come home. So she did. And when I told her what had happened, she was furious. We had both been taken in by an act.

At the time, Crimson Moon had a sister Yahoo group just for the women. I went on there and posted about my experience. To my horror, three other women emailed me and told me of their own experiences with "Jack." I learned the whole thing had been a game. "Jack" wasn't even his name and "Robyn" (or "Randi") wasn't his wife at all. She was a woman who agreed to act as his wife so that when women would ask about his wife being OK with him meeting other women, their minds would be put at ease. One of the women who emailed me was a top who had had her own close call with this man. It made my stomach churn to think that someone had gone to such lengths to get a trusting woman alone with him. He looked so harmless. I couldn't believe it.

So now, nearly eight years later, I still get a reaction when I think of how close I had come to being attacked or worse yet, maybe killed. Who knows what would have happened to me had that UPS truck not pulled up? I did the best I could to get the word out about "Jack". A few people called my reaction "hysterical" and that I was going to ruin a man's reputation when he hadn't done anything. I was shocked that a few people defended "Jack". "You're a tease" one man told me, "it serves you right!"

The Internet is even more pervasive in our lives now than it was in 2006. We now have Smart phones, iPhones and Androids in order to keep track of each other. This means it's even easier to be victimized by an Internet predator than it was then. Having a safe call in place might seem old school and "so 20th century" but it's still a good idea. Now that Carol is gone, I don't have any choice but to meet people alone. But I've taken steps to increase my safety. I've finally joined the local community and am meeting and getting to know the people who live right here where I do. At the very least, most groups have a vetting or screening process in place to weed out crazies and other undesirables. Even if someone has been deemed safe to attend a function or party, it's still best to err on the side of caution. The urge to play is strong in most people, as it was for me on that April day in 2006, and many times we allow our desire to overcome our better judgment. I wish I had listened to that "little voice" back on that day. I wish I had changed my mind and decided not to meet him. But he was already on his way and, even though I didn't know exactly where he lived, I knew he had driven for at least a couple of hours. I didn't want the trip to have been a waste for him. And this is one of the problems we have, especially women. We're taught that other people come first: that we should always put other peoples' needs ahead of our own. And there are plenty of men out there willing to exploit that feeling. I should have said "I'm sorry you wasted a trip and I would be happy to pay for your gas, but I just feel uncomfortable about meeting you." He might have been pissed off about it, but at least I would have been spared the horrible experience of looking in his eyes as he put his hand around my throat. A side note to women with rape fantasies or who get into fear play: that is still play. You are still a willing participant in the scenario. If you ever had a situation like this happen to you for real, believe me, you wouldn't find it the least bit thrilling.

So do what you can to protect yourself. If you're chatting online with a man and it seems to be moving a bit fast (like he asks for your phone number on the first chat) then tell him so. Ask him to give you time to get to know him better. And since people can say anything they want online, ask for references. Ask to talk to people who have met him in the flesh and played with him. A top with a good reputation will value it above almost anything else and will be happy to give you references. Someone who says "Who do you think I am? Ted Bundy?" and who gets his ass hairs up about your safety concerns is throwing you a huge red flag. If it's your practice to ask for ID when meeting someone for the first time, don't waver on that no matter how much the guy acts indignant or others think you're going too far. It's your safety that's important. Never go to the home of a man you don't know well and allow yourself to be tied up. You are probably thinking "Duh, Cheryl!" but you would be surprised how many women (and men!) do just that. I had a friend a few years ago who agreed to meet a new play partner at his place and when she got there, there were three other men there. You can bet she said "No thanks" and hightailed it out of there. Keep your guard up until you're absolutely sure you can trust this person. On any given day on Fetlife you can read posts from men who are looking to discipline bad girls or who are looking for a woman to bring them in line. As appealing as that may sound to someone who enjoys that kind of thing, it's a pretty dumb thing to do in practice. Running off to meet a total stranger for a nice long discipline session is about the dumbest thing a person can do. First of all, look at the post. This is someone who's looking to punish a woman- any woman. That by itself ought to send the red flags waving. The scene has its fair share of misogynists and a lot of them are very adept at covering up that part of themselves. There's a night and day difference between a sadist who's looking for a willing partner and a woman hater who's looking for someone to take that hatred out on.

Common sense needs to prevail. If something doesn't seem right, assume it's not.

Author's Note: I know I talk a lot about men being predators. I'm well aware that there are female predators as well. But I'm a female bottom who plays mostly with male tops so I'm writing from that perspective. Men need to protect themselves too.

Monday, February 3, 2014

Entitlement Attitude

Author's Note: Today's entry is a rant. I'm getting sick and tired of people unleashing their anger on me because I don't act like a "good little girl." If you would rather not read me getting my anger out of my system then I suggest you read one of my other delightful entries.

I received some interesting messages in my Fetlife inbox this week. The first one came from a gentlemen in Ireland who repeatedly addressed me as "wee one" and "kitten". I should mention that I'm older than he is and also not a submissive. He also signed off saying "behave like a good little girl". Ugh! Nothing gets me going quite like being treated like a submissive by someone who doesn't even know me. I replied as nicely as I could but I'm afraid I scared him off because he never wrote me back. I'm sure he was a nice guy, but all he had to do was read my profile and he would have realized that he was barking up the wrong tree. Being treated like a submissive by doms who treat all women like subs has pissed me off since my earliest days in the scene. I've had that not-all-women-who-get-spanked-are-submissive argument with a lot of people. And quite frankly, I'm getting tired of banging my head against that particular brick wall. I know all of this complaining makes it look like I don't like the scene or the people in it. That's not true. I love most of the people in the scene, even the misguided ones. Most of the time I can ignore the behavior that annoys me. I'm really good at it. But this week has been a rough one and I'm afraid I lost my famous composure a couple of times. This first message got the ball rolling for me. What was going through that guy's head when he called me "wee one"? One look at even one of my pictures would disabuse him of the notion that there was anything wee about me.

The second one arrived yesterday. This guy left a comment on a picture of mine saying "Sexy sexy sexy". Then he sent me a friend request. Now I mention in my profile that friend requests sent out of the blue from strangers will be rejected. So I rejected him. We had no fetishes in common. In fact, his profile was pretty much blank. About an hour later, he sent me a message. The subject line was "You Are FAT!" The whole body of the message was "F.O. Fatty". What is it about some guys? They can go from "sexy" to "fat" in one heartbeat if you reject them. This guy wasn't some young kid either. He was 46 years old. I thought he was a dom, but apparently he's a sub. I couldn't go back and re-check because he blocked me as soon as he shot off that message calling me fat.

It's this attitude that angers me about men in the scene. As long as you're pleasing, say "Sir" at the right time, and always agree with them, then you get treated well. But as soon as you disagree with them or don't act afraid of them then you're attacked. Their attitude is "I have a penis. Therefor you're inferior to me. Bow and worship, bitch!" It's pure entitlement. I've gotten messages from clowns like this since I was on Yahoo Groups. I remember one gentlemen, whom I had never met at that time, responding to a thread of mine telling me every detail of how a scene between him and I would go. He outlined how I was to dress, what words I would be allowed to say, when I would be allowed to speak at all and what other behavior he expected. At first, I didn't know how to respond to this. I was new and I didn't really know "how it was done". I had no one to mentor me or tell me how I should respond to people. All I had to go on was my prior vanilla experience. So when I read this, I was angry. Who did this guy think he was telling me how to dress and speak? When I did respond, it was with a now-familiar retort: "Fantasy is fun, isn't it?" The guy responded to that like someone who felt he was being mocked. He assured me that, should we ever meet at a party, he would show me what "fun" was. I was somewhat concerned because I detected a threat in his tone. I privately wrote one of the group leaders and told him I thought the guy was out of line. He wrote me a private email, saying that this was just words. He never cursed at me or called me names. But if he ever made a move towards me at a party he would be dead meat.

That was my first exposure to the "entitlement attitude". It certainly wasn't my last. I got a broader exposure to this attitude when I joined Fetlife. I knew that I would probably see people who weren't mere spankos like me. Many of the men I "met" were doms and masters. One of the first lessons I learned was that they don't like to be disagreed with. They didn't like being called on their BS either. My aim is not to cut anyone down. But these guys just infuriate me. Sometimes, I lose my celebrated cool.

The guy who called me fat caught me at a bad time. Usually, I laugh and move on. But he happened to leave his "you're fat" message to me when I was feeling less than sexy and attractive. I mean, I wasn't going to say "I am not fat". I'm fat and I don't deny that I'm working on it. But it's rude to say it. Most of these guys are well practiced at knowing how to hurt a woman. I wish I could say that random insults from total strangers don't bother me, but they do. So now, thanks to some jerk with an entitlement attitude, my confidence is cracked a bit. But it will repair itself and I will set my jaw and vow never to let the thoughtless words of a jerk with entitlement attitude get me down again.