Suckage and nostalgia

That's a rather incongruent pairing, isn't it? Typical me, full of contradictions.

It was a nice weekend with my sweetie, and I came home full of plans and energy. He had a lot of stuff to do around his house, and I wanted to go to the gym and so forth, so I came home Sunday evening. Yesterday, I was a busy bee, clearing everything off my schedule. I went to the gym, got my car washed, proofread a small novel, did some writing, folded laundry, tidied up around here. This morning, I was due to drop off my car for servicing, and the mechanic would drive me home. After that, the day was free and clear, all ready for Steve (the top formerly known as Mr. D).

Aaaaaaaand last night he called and told me he had pinkeye again. Apparently it's not a good idea to go surfing in one's contacts and then leave them in for the rest of the day. He seems to have a predisposition for this damned affliction; it's the second time he's had it since I've known him, which is still not quite a year. He went to the doc right away this time, so it won't be as bad as it was the last time he had it. 

(sigh) The best laid plans, etc. So here I am, work done, chores done, no car so I can't go anywhere, and steeped in disappointment and frustration. If he had a cold or something like that, I'd say by all means, if you're up for it, come over anyway. I'd risk it. But there's no way he's coming near me with pinkeye; he doesn't want me to catch that. He offered to come take me to lunch, but you know what? Being in close proximity with him, and not being able to play, being forbidden to come in contact with him even for a hug, would be torture. 

It sucks not being able to play this week, especially. Because I don't get to celebrate my 17th "spankiversary."

You guys remember (well, some of you do) -- my first spanking was on Memorial Day, 1996. It feels like a lifetime ago. It was my baby step onto a completely new path, one that twisted and twined and took me in so many unexpected directions. And the first of many firsts, including my initial spanking-related personal ad, which led me to the first real love of my life, John. Then parties, then videos, and so many more adventures. It's been amazing, exhilarating, fulfilling, heartbreaking, validating, and a million other descriptives.

Has it really been a whole year since my "sweet 16" celebration? Last year at this time, ST came over, surprising me with champagne. I had two glasses, got thoroughly plastered (what a lightweight!), and broke two implements. Good times. The time speeds by so quickly. This August, John and I will be together 17 years. Last weekend, someone asked us what our secret is. I didn't have to think about it; I just smiled and answered, "Don't get married and don't live together." Yeah, I know -- that flies in the face of what people are supposed to want. But it works for us.

And in July, I will have known Steve for a year already. I still can't believe how he came along when he did, how he slipped in so quickly and quietly and made his presence invaluable in my life. 

I have a lot to be grateful for. I just have to postpone celebrating it, I guess.

I was going through some photo archives and found a real oldie. You might remember my writing about our friend C, the fetish photographer. One night when we were out with her and her boyfriend, she took us to her studio, which was a loft in downtown L.A. Just for fun, she dressed me up in elegant, fetish-y clothes and took pictures. I have no idea what happened to all those shots, but I do have one. Check this out, from about, oh, 16 years ago:

I don't like the glare of the wall, but I don't know how to tone that down. Will you look at those shoes! Glad she had me sitting; if I tried to walk, I'd pitch forward right on my face.

I also found the first ever photo of John and me, but there is no way I'm scanning that. When he and I met, I had short hair with a terrible perm. It is best forgotten. He says he fell in love with me despite my hair. Gee, thanks, bunny. :-Þ

As I do each year, sending out a heartfelt thank you to Paul, my premier spanker, wherever he may be. And thanks to all who have made, and continue to make, my journey so joyous.