Go The Distance

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Saturday, November 16, 2013

I’ve asked 4 strength 2 carry on
2 move 4ward like a
flicker of light
I’ve flown away 2 join a new flock
2 be on my way with wings of courage and
I’ve taken flight
I’ve surveyed the stars and
move full speed ahead 2 travel on
with peace and understanding
I’ve soared
Far beyond any distance I have ever gone b4
2 find that I am one 2 have and one 2 hold,
I will go the distance
2wards the freedom of love

The Screenwriter

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Friday, November 15, 2013

In the city of broken dreams and falling angels, Los Angeles, you are sure to find many characters all ready to make it “big” and become a star. There are millions of such individuals in L.A., all with their own agendas, their own claims, their lifestyles. Sometimes, as it so happens in a big city, distant paths cross and intertwine. This is such an event that is bound to occur, especially when you’re faced with the loneliness of such a life and faced with keeping your sanity in the big city.

A number of years ago I decided to try my hand (yet again) at the internet dating scene. As I had been living my life more fully present and day-to-day as a transgendered woman, I felt that the time was right to see what kind of potential man was out there for a “new girl” like me. I put up a few profiles on sites like Yahoo! Dating, Match.com, AdultFriendFinder, a (now-defunct) national T-Girl/CD dating site, and for a more local approach, craigslist.  Each of the sites lent themselves to a unique community of potential daters but none fostered more uniqueness than my local craigslist ad. The craigslist respondents ran the gamut from one-night stand requests, to sex slavery, to a (surprising) number of sincere responses. After weeding out “the crazies”, I settled on three strong and well-rounded candidates. 
Candidate #1 was a recent NYC transplant living on the Westside, who was looking for a passable ethnic girl with whom he could explore his new city, and was very open about dating a beautiful T-Girl and looking to explore this new avenue in his love life. He had a steady job as a high school English teacher, enjoyed the arts, and lived comfortably and simply in a well-appointed condo a few miles from the beach where he enjoyed running along the shore or surfing early mornings before heading onto campus. 
Candidate #2 was a high-profile entertainment industry professional who was looking for a beautiful, sexy, and smart lady who would enjoy going to events, screenings, and sexy nights out on the town or staying in at his immaculate home in the Hollywood Hills. He was extremely handsome, fit, well-dressed and appeared to be a well-matched potential. 
Candidate #3 was an established creative professional who enjoyed the arts, was active in the community through his various volunteer activities, a bona-fide cinema-file and sci-fi fanatic, with a large diverse group of friends who was not only young and attractive but had had actual real one-on-one dating experience with T-Girls and had a previous long-term relationship with one that lasted a number of years.
So as I had now narrowed down my potential suitors, the time had come to start the ever important round of “get-to-know-you” dates. I was eager in finding a long-term boyfriend who was going to be there for me (and I him) in all the ways he would be in a modern ideal of a relationship. And I had to put a serious cap on when I was going to give up my body to him, as it is far too easy for me to just fall into sex with someone and leave it as that. I was looking for a relationship, not another sex partner. I had to make sure the guy wasn’t going out with me to fulfill his novelty fantasy of being with a beautiful trans girl like me, which is a very real and ever-present notion, especially online.

Candidate #1 and I had been carrying on a very involved email exchange thread and were just about to elevate it to move beyond the computer and onto the telephone. We carried on like this for about three weeks, talking about pretty much everything and sharing quite a few G-Rated photos of each other. I found him very nice and I was attracted to him and looking forward to talking to him and putting a voice to the face, body, and words I was getting fond of. We exchanged telephone numbers and I waited for an agreed upon telephone call that he was going to place to me on a Thursday to set up a Saturday evening date. I waited. And waited. After two weeks, I decided to phone him. I got his voicemail (finally hearing that voice of his…) and left a polite message. Instead of a return call, I received an "excuse" email. I knew then that this wasn’t going to happen in real life. I replied and we exchanged a few more emails and then *poof* he was gone. Or so I thought...

Candidate #2 was much easier to get on the phone and much easier to secure something with, and what a refreshing change after the time and effort spent on Candidate #1. Candidate #2 was very “typical L.A. Player”: fast car, super-groomed, very talkative, extremely career-oriented, and was deep in the Hollywood scene. What I liked about him was that everything was upfront and right on sight. There wasn’t really anything held back with him and I’m very much the same with many things in my life. We also had many things in common especially as we both worked in the entertainment industry (in different fields of course) and we both enjoyed the more upscale end of life. Instead of emails, we talked on the telephone or via text message. We quickly set up a date and agreed to meet for dinner and then attend an industry event together. My oh my, was I swept off my Manolo Blahniks by this ultra-suave man! Our first date was really something out of a rom-com movie: flowers at my door, seats at the best table at the hippest restaurant of the moment, flirtatious and insightful romantic conversation, and that ever important “cinema spark”. We had major chemistry, no doubt. After that very fun and jam-packed night, we decided to see each other again. We ended up dating a number of times after that and having some very memorable moments during the times we spent together. Despite our intense attraction both romantically and sexually, we both felt the “time wasn’t right” for us to become involved. Amicably, we decided to remain friends and He and I are still in each other lives today. Yes, there is still that “spark” there but time has leveled it off. We can just enjoy each other in a deeper kind of platonic love, which continues to be very nice.

Candidate #3 was the opposite of “hot shot” that the likes of Candidate #2 embodied but was sweetly endearing and refreshing. He was a creative person after all, a Screenwriter by profession. We enjoyed a nice and lengthy e-mail flirtation which eventually progressed to numerous and lengthy telephone conversations, mostly at night. His voice—assured, youthful, vibrant, gently masculine (there was a tinge of feminine in it which was actually cute to me)—was something I was beginning to crave at the end of a long work day. I really enjoyed our intellectual conversations which came easily and without any sparring of our ideals against each other. Very soon, our nice intelligent conversations changed into nice intelligent sex talk. Now I am no stranger to phone sex (being well practiced in the phenom in its early heydays in the 90s) but I’ve never had it so unusual as I was having it with Screenwriter. Our entire sex talk revolved around his personal obsession with fur, specifically, fur coats. It was his button and he wanted it pushed badly. This was furthered by his deep appreciation of the classic erotic novel “Venus In Fur” which I could appreciate and actually admire. I too was a fan of the novel but not to the effect that he was a fan. We even took out our copies and read aloud paragraphs to each other (or, rather me reading them to him seductively) on the phone. Ok, another hot move on his part pushing my literary buttons and he did score major points for exposing and indulging his kink with me, be it only and always in a fur coat. At his urging, I would even put on my own fur coat and play with myself while having phone sex, which was extremely sexy (even though I was always afraid of getting cum stuck on my expensive Max Mara sable coat). When we finally agreed to meet in person, it was an event. 

We at first agreed to a nice dinner at a modestly hip restaurant on a Thursday night. This plan got changed last minute to going to a nice dinner at a different modestly hip restaurant that Saturday. That late afternoon, he told me he wasn’t going to be able to pick me up for dinner but he wasn’t cancelling, I just had to drive myself. When I got there, I was greeted by not only him but eight of his friends, on a dinner theatre date as a group. We didn’t get to sit next to each other because of the odd seating arrangements of the large group. I was seated the entire night next to a friend of his who was openly flirting and trying to seduce me constantly, called Mr. Flirt.  After the dinner show, Screenwriter and I spent ten minutes talking to each other. Our chat was non-committed, distant, and extremely platonic and brief, which I found to be very strange especially since we have had many pleasant (and colorful) private conversations. I chalked it up to us being in public and him trying to “play it cool”. I asked him if I was making him nervous or if he wasn’t interested but he replied to the contrary. Then the bill came. Now, I’m a modern girl who makes a very healthy professional living so money to me isn’t an issue. I was actually prepared to “go dutch” but I wasn’t prepared for having to contribute more than my own for the entire meal for the group of eight. It ended up with me paying about 65% of the whole bill. I did it pleasantly but being a modern girl, I brought it up to him immediately while he walked me to my car. His explanation was that he was waiting on a check to come to him and he was a little short and that most of his friends are struggling actors and they didn’t expect the bill to balloon to where it did (they of course had no problem with ordering drink after drink paying no mind on the bill while I had one glass of mediocre wine) so they were caught short blah blah blah. I gave him a hug and said that maybe you all should’ve been more aware and ready to wash a shitload of dishes the next time you all go out. We ended the night on that note with a hug and kisses on the cheek. Then, out of the darkness of the night comes his flirtatious friend to say goodnight and goodbye to me with a big strong manly bear hug and a kiss on my neck. I thought, in that moment, the night was saved a bit but I just had to leave it where it was and how it was supposed to end, on a friendly note and a tingle in my loins. 

A few days later, I get a call from Screenwriter asking me out on another date. I accepted, giving him the benefit of the doubt and an honest second chance. We decided to go out dancing to a gay nightclub on their bi night which was on a Tuesday so it was going to be a mild night. I put on a sexy LBD and pair of killer Gucci stilettos.When I got there, I found Screenwriter at the bar…with four of his friends, including Mr. Flirt. I had half the mind to turn around and leave but as soon as I was spotted there was no turning back, thinking "not another group outing!" . Screenwriter gave me a strong hug and a naughty little compliment (“you’re sooo hot that its making me melt”) and I leaning in and hugged him back, lifting my leg and wrapping it around his hip, my leg brushing his crotch which was swelled to a nice bulge. There was hope for him yet! I ordered a drink and we tried to talk over the music and interjections of his friends and of course Mr. Flirt, who was more obvious and blatant and he couldn’t stop gawking about my gams. We all went out on the dance floor and, as it is my natural way on a dance floor, I let loose and just danced. When I dance, it’s not just moves, it’s a seduction. I tried to sidle up to Screenwriter as much as I could but I was too hot for him because he could only take me gyrating in short bursts. Meanwhile, I had to keep Mr. Flirt at bay because he was definitely able to keep up with me and was actually giving me a run for my own money gyrating his own sexual energy at (and against) me the few times we did danced together briefly. In the lulls between social interaction with his friends, dancing, and getting drinks, Screenwriter and I did have chances to talk; our conversations were brief but spiced with flirtatious compliments and comments by the both of us. It was getting late and time for me to go, so I hailed a cab and got on my way. This time we parted with another strong hug and a kiss on the lips, with a gentle and lingering taste of his tongue in my mouth. We spoke on the phone about an hour later for exactly thirty minutes of phone sex, heavy on the fantasy and the furs, ending with him climaxing loudly and heavily on his end, a pleasant finish to the night. 


Two or three days later we talk on the phone, and he invites me out to join him at a rock show at a club I had never heard of or been to in Hollywood. I put on a mini mini-dress, Manolo Blahnik stilettos and oiled skin. I cabbed it over to the club and dashed in looking for him. After getting groped by more than a happy share of drunk rockers on my way in, I found Screenwriter and, yes, Mr. Flirt (I was none too happy to see him again but…).  I tried to enjoy the way-too-loud-bad rock group and it was a fail to try to even talk, so I drank my beer and swayed to the rhythm of the place and enjoyed myself as much as I could. I shout-chatted with Mr. Flirt a little (finding out he was an Investment Manager and an aspiring stuntman and a Scorpio like me) and with Screenwriter (who was here to support a friend of his in the band who may or may not have been an ex-girlfriend and was a lousy guitar player). I told him that since I cabbed it, he’d have to be a gentleman and drive me home tonight, which he agreed to do. 

When it was time to leave, the three of us get in his car, which was a disastrous mess of a junk heap inside. Mr. Flirt and I had to sit in the backseat together because the front passenger seat got stuck or broken and wouldn’t move back from the position it assumed to let Mr. Flirt into the back seat! I’m in the back seat and Mr. Flirt is talking about my legs (again) to me and Screenwriter, who is acknowledging and reiterating all the comments. Mr. Flirt is touching my legs. I’m thinking, like the naughty kink I am that “ooh, we’re on our way to three-way land now!” reveling it. I was way okay with something happening, especially with all of the intense psycho-sexual flirting that Screenwriter was doing to me this whole entire relationship, and I figured this was just one of his other kinks. We park in my driveway. Screenwriter suggests that I kiss Mr. Flirt, saying he knows he’d really like that. I ask Screenwriter if he’d like that. He says “no” but since he “belongs to me” I could cuckold him if that were my desire and he would submit to any of my desires as I wished. Not much of a shock but one nonetheless. We hadn’t exactly had this conversation before privately but who was I to deny him this pleasure. And, I wasn’t entirely blind to the fact that he wanted me to dominate him in this relationship, laying many signs there for me of which I was being petty about trying to see clearly. I wasn’t feeling confident enough of being the dominant and I was all too comfortable playing the submissive from past experience. Now, with all of the balance firmly planted and defined, I took the reins. I asked Mr. Flirt is he wanted me, if he wanted to show Screenwriter how to give me pleasure and to show him how a man does it. He willingly replied “Yes”. I pulled him in to kiss me deeply, and he not only complied but urged it on, kissing and tonguing me and moving down to my neck to bite and nibble it. He was running his fingers through my curly hair and rubbing my legs and feeling on my budding breasts. I was getting increasingly hot, as was he, and I never took my eyes off of Screenwriter, who was in the front seat turned around to watch us, his blue eyes piercing right back at me with lust and a quiet sexual rage. I could feel it turning him on. I could see him wanting me to be more merciless with him in cuckolding him. I sensed that if I took this to another level, his arousal would move swiftly forward to its next level. I asked Mr. Flirt if he wanted to come in and see me naked. He said “Oh yes!” I told Screenwriter to let us out of the car and to wait for Mr. Flirt to come out, because, after all, he still had to drive him all the way home to Long Beach. He let us out and I kissed him lightly on the cheek, saying goodnight and thank you. Mr. Flirt and I went inside and got comfortable on my cream sofa. He had never been with a trans girl before so I let him explore my body, kiss me all over, feel my budding breasts and play with my big uncut cock, where he jerked me off to a wall splattering climax. I returned the pleasure and gave him a mind-blowing, long and wet blow job, savoring every inch of his thick Latin cock and swallowing every drop of his creamy load. We got dressed and I walked him out. We kissed again passionately on the porch. I turned and looked at Screenwriter, those eyes of his burning hot with sexual fever. I coyly waved goodbye, standing there wrapped in my sable fur coat, watching as the car ever so slowly backed out of my driveway, his eyes grudgingly being pulled away to maneuver the car, and turning to look straight at me, savoring the final engulfing gaze of me standing there caressing my fur coat before Screenwriter drives away into the night.

Two nights later, I give Screenwriter a telephone call, to check in and to see just how affected he was by the events of a couple of nights ago. He didn’t pick up. He didn’t call me back until a week later. I scolded him for taking so long to get back to me. I told him it was unacceptable and not the correct way to behave, and that I’d have to punish him for it. That set him all ablaze, and he began telling me that he was all a flutter with excitement about that night, where one of his wildest dreams came true. I told him I wanted to see him that night. He had other plans so was trying to back out. I told him to behave and do as I request, and that he should be at my place at 11pm. He agreed that he’d be there. Fast forward to midnight, still he had not arrived. I called his cell, got his voicemail, and left the bitchiest and meanest message, telling him “to go fuck yourself with a big dildo and split yourself in two” and, since he stood me up, that "better yet, I'm going to dildo fuck you when we got together next time and split you into fours". I hung up and jacked myself off to the thought of fucking him with a huge dildo, cumming all over myself and falling asleep.

A few more days pass and I finally hear from Screenwriter, who had some major accident happen to him in his apartment where a main water pipe burst in the apartment above his and ended up drenching his place and practically destroying it and the contents inside. Concerned, I asked if he needed help moving his remaining belongings out . He told me much had already been moved but it would be nice if I came over and helped to move a few little things. Since I had never been to his place, I jumped at the chance, not only to spy on his place but to see just what kind of a disaster had befallen him. It was actually quite bad but it had only affected the back part of his place. We moved a few of his things into the front room and then had a beer. We talked about some minor things and then we talked about his writing. He showed me a few of his scripts (but wouldn’t let me read them). Then, without any warning, he grabbed me by the arm and pulled me forcefully down to the ground, where he proceeded to get on top of me, and kiss me. And choke me. Not a little squeeze but a tight grip choke. He was full force kissing me too, and with his firm grip on my throat and his mouth sucking the air out of me I was beginning to  get light headed, on the verge of passing out. I think he knew and let go of both my mouth and my neck. My eyes went wide. As scary as it was in that moment, it was exceptionally erotic. I reacted, in a knee-jerk kind of way to the exchange by slapping him full on his face. His eyes went wide. Next thing, he’s pushing me against the wall, holding my arms down and kissing me again, full force. I’m struggling against him and the wall, feeling his huge hard-on pressing against my leg. I’m trying to regain some sort of composure and some level of power in this exchange, wavering from exerting some level of dominance and wanting to give in to my desire to be submissive to him.  He has me pressed hard against the wall, still pinning my arm down and I'm kissing him back just as hard if not more so because that is the only way I could move with control. Again I feel his hard cock against me. I'm sure he could feel mine rising against him, as it began growing to fullness. Then, as quickly as it started, he stopped and moved away from me. We stood for a beat, breathing heavy and looking at each other. I reached down and grabbed a hold on his erection and squeezed it hard, pushing him back away from me. He stumbled back a little and when I had the room I needed, I pushed him away and just walked out the door, down the stairs and into my car. I started the engine and drove away, back over the hills to my apartment with ecstatic pleasure bursting from every part of me and into ferocious laughter.

That afternoon was the last time I physically saw Screenwriter. We did talk on the phone a number of times after that afternoon, not ever really addressing the very real feelings that presented themselves that day. Through the strange circumstance of life, we weren’t able to see each other, as I was temporarily transferred to another city for work abruptly, and he was working that summer teaching young kids at a wilderness drama camp.  We spoke one last time before he had left for the woods. He told me that he had written a screenplay of which I inspired. I think it was the one he showed me but I'm still not sure. He said that the main character was a transwoman who, after being informed that her boyfriend is in dire trouble across country,  goes on a crazed rampage to save him from some ill fate and, unbeknownst to her, is set up for murder, as she had a dead body in the trunk of her car when she gets pulled over and charged with the murder of the body and gets sentenced to prison. The body turns out to be her boyfriend’s, of which she is not sorry or has any remorse for his untimely demise. How strange that I inspired that?! I don’t know how or why this character brings these ideas to mind when thinking of me but I guess I should either be flattered, or creeped out.  I hope if this screenplay gets produced, the transwoman would at least be a beautiful one. I'm sure I could’ve inspired that in the least! After all, he inspired me to share this story of one of the most unique and interesting dating experiences I will ever have, especially in the city full of love’s young dreams.

One Direction

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Thursday, October 3, 2013

Through our night together, you never said you missed me, told me how much you want me, how hard it was to be apart from me...yet all I did through the night was spoil you, tell you all the things you could ever want to hear, how much I have craved you these long days far away from you, just how much I have missed you...
It appears that we are going in one direction with two separate itineraries to the same place. It feels like we're not traveling on the same wavelengths as we once were, or I'm just a little bit lost in my way.
I hope we are both there together in the end.

Everytime

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Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Every time we’re together I want nothing more than for you to stay 
but at the beat of my yearning heart it is me who runs away 
from the painful truth of the life you live with her 
alone dreaming of the one you’ll never have with me
yet the magnetic pull 
draws us to each other time and again 
to play our parts in this blissful tryst of which we both don’t want to ever end. 
I will just have to live with having you in the fervent moments we share
and trust in the passion you relish on me with exquisite care
 in those fleeting moments 
when I feel you’re not there and again you dress and turn the knob to go 
all I know is this delicious treat of the forbidden is worth every dare, 
every time.

Flash

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Friday, August 2, 2013

A flash of skin shone as 
the small of your back smiles at me,
having me longing to caress 
the creaminess of that exotic valley of flesh
It is there that I want 
to plant a gentle kiss 
to show you how beautiful I think you are

An Adulterous Allowance

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I'm your sweet sexy secret little play thing and I love it that way.
I will be the one and only one with whom you can live out all of the secret fantasies you hold away from the world and release them into the realm of actuality, my body as the vessel on which you ride.
You have the whole world watching you, but, with me, it is my eyes alone that get to see the minute details of your design. 
I look at you and I see release, I see freedom, I see You.

Vous me faites ouvrir et cède à vous et il me remplit de plaisir si pur et intense. 

You allow me the honor of your favor again and again, the many stolen moments of time that we catch like flies in the air and hurried rush through our burning passion, until the time is gone and spent.
When it is like this, I feel like the sweetest taboo.
If only the world that watches you knew just how much you love this joy ride, but, it is me alone that gets to see the subtle and obvious of your intention.
I turn to look at you and I see intensity, I see  liberation, I see only You.

Me toucher partout, même légèrement, et je me plierai à vous. Je promets de vous donner tout ce que dans la raison, à notre portée. 

Je peux exploser dans un milliard d'etoiles!





Destiny (Question #1)

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What more do I have 2 do 2 make 
u see
that I was truly meant 
4 u
like u were truly meant 
4 me?

A Change In You

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Tuesday, July 2, 2013

There has been a change in you and it makes me feel
Fresh and new and at the same time
Old and gray and wary 
of all of these new found abilities and all of these new found confidences that you have no qualms showing me
I do not know if I should sit back and watch you behave in these new ways that you have acquired as your self, 
or get up off of the floor and step aside for you
and give you all the room you need 
to be free and complete on your own

Sixteen Years

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What should be a distant memory still feels as fresh as the new day. To think of the number of minutes I have spent trying to undo the countless moments I spent to keep you happy makes me wonder why I gave up so much time for such a failing proposition. I cannot believe how long I have been trying to forget and how strongly I ache to remember all of the great times to outweigh the horrendously bad times that came and washed us apart.

Sixteen years!

I still miss you unbelievably. I guess that means I still love you in some blind way or I am still in love with the thought of you and the hope of promise never fully materialized. I am deigned to repeat you again and have been fighting off the impending front of this strange possibility.
I am never over you.

Sixteen years!

The clock ticked the seconds by and I am no further away from that last day with you than I was sixteen years in the past. I have only taken a few small steps in comparison. It is time to start to move at a fast leap and quicken the pace because time cannot continue to pass by as it has, with the ghosts of you at my side.

(for Kevin J)

Five Minutes

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All I want is five minutes of your time so I can sit down and look
into your eyes and see past all of the words,
listen beyond all of the lies you have ever told me about how you
loved me and see the reality of what was.
Five minutes is an eternity, an infinite amount of time to look at you again.
I couldn’t bear the madness that would ensue, realizing that all of the lies were
in fact truths and I have been the blindly loving fool, 
skipping around in folly of a one-sided love tragedy.

Modern Life

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Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Our modern life is not about market values, advertising outreach, political punditry, profit margins, browbeating, living in the proverbial box...
it is about being one with nature, expressing love, opening your mind, using your creativity, understanding your individuality, and sharing everything you know joyfully with each other.

A Valentine: Masculine vs Feminine (V 2.013)

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Thursday, February 14, 2013


The following was originally written in 2005 in my personal digital journal in response to a conversation I was having over dinner with a group of young like-minded professionals who lived in my apartment building at the time. It appeared in a different form in its original entry, directed more in regards to the wider spectrum of our conversation and with some direction aimed at persons at the dinner.  What came from the entry was a letter of heart to myself, and all of its stirrings. I have held on to it with the intention of revising it and writing is as a "valentine" to myself. I began reading it again recently and decided to "finish" it and set it with a new heart and a mind. What follows is that "valentine" in its true form...
Enjoy and, as always, Love One Another.



Masculine vs Feminine (Remixed + Revisited)

I am naturally androgynous and EASILY blur the gender lines. And yes, that extends 2 my mannerisms and the way that I speak. I am feminine. I am 500% natural about it. I have always been this way and can't even think of how I would be if I were outwardly masculine; it wouldn't suit me. My feminine nature is the pre-dominate one yet this does not mean that I do not have a masculine nature as well. I am a human being, which means I am a being of balance. My masculine nature is one I know just as well as my feminine nature; he is quiet, contemplative, and analytic where my feminine is outgoing, willfully strong, assertive. Together they are conscious, thoughtful, caring, and wise.
In a social context where butch/fem roles play their part, the question (not one I ask of myself but one asked of me) is where do I fit in? What does my peculiar nature dictate where I stand in the social context? It has been asked of me because of my dual-nature, does it make me a fem with butch characteristics or a butch who is outwardly fem? Transgender (another topic entirely)? Am I a “gay dinosaur”, an extinct representation of the gay community of yesterday? Am I social freak, one that lives on the outer edges of society, outcast from the central core of the context or in a rock musical fantasy?

Having a strong feminine nature, I know it to be natural that I am attracted to masculine men. This comes about for me as an act of balance, in direct contrast to me physically, emotionally, socially, etc.  It is not easy, especially currently where the socially acceptable way for a gay man to be is masculine/butch (affected or natural, face it men that is what our gay social structure is dictating to the population). I understand the desire to be with a masculine man in contrasting and comparative relationship pairings (because that is what I AM attracted to) and I understand the nature of an effeminate man (because that is what I AM). I feel that it is an inherent masculine/feminine balance that connects male homosexuals: the feel, look, shape, smell, etc of a man's body, his tactile and strong way of loving to his quiet yet deep way of emoting and how he nurtures himself and his world that is directly opposite to the female. Isn't that a bit of what defines us as homosexual men?
In direct contrast are our society’s negative feelings about feminine qualities in men: Could it just be that we have been, and continue to be, socialized to place a negative view on effeminacy? I think and feel this to be so. I think the male machismo kicks in and rises up this fear of a feminine man, saying that he is “less-than”, stating that he is not “man” enough. If it is so bad then why do women find the gay feminine archetype more acceptable! All of this negative socializing has to stop. We cannot continue to raise future generations with these beliefs. The more this happens, the more difficult it becomes for society to accept those that are different and, to ultimately, evolve into a higher consciousness, a better understanding of our collective Love.
In my experiences in the gay dating circle, I have received the instant shutdown because of my effeminate nature. I see many examples of gay male couples and they are comprised of both masculine/”butch” guys. I often wonder how that pairing works: where is the masculine/feminine balance (or is it opposing examples)? Since I am not seeing these distinct markers, I surmise that they must be in place, perhaps just hidden from my view...? In the collective dating pool, why then is there such a quickness to tear down any possibility of connecting with a feminine man (oh, how I loathe the "no femmes" tagline)? I feel this may have stemmed from our early socialization and the factors placed then in how the gay community has come to accept them and how they view themselves. Our queerness dictates that we are unique; why don't we celebrate it instead of feeding it with negativity? How can we be a community when we don't even want to commune with each other? If these are to be the few (and only) choices in the gay community, then I am choosing to be a member of another community, one where the understanding of Self is more evolved and rooted in Equal and Unconditional Love.

I hear each and every day something about my effeminate self (mostly positive) from people I know and from people I don’t (at times). These positive remarks remind me that I am being honest and true to my Self first, and who I really am in this world and in my self, reminding me of my worth and value. As a balance, I hear on rare occasion something not so positive about my effeminate nature. I have grown to not let these non-positive remarks affect me and instead let them build my strength and inner resolve to continue to just be myself more and more.


I have always been and always will be exactly who I am: MeBeautiful, attractive, androgynous, feminine Me. I don’t see this to change into something else ever. Nor do I want it to; I have come to know and truly Love who I am, cultivating a Love that exceeds my own physical limits in this body. It permeates into the stratosphere, granting a welcoming touch to all of us, no matter the difference. It celebrates our individual uniqueness and admires the diversity. In truth, I may appear different but I am the same as anyone else: Human.
 For the modern, evolved homosensual man that I choose to share my life with and whom I love, this understanding will be easy and clear. He will share the same qualities and ideas as I do. He will be a member of the Human community. Yes, he will be masculine in balance to my feminine but he and I will be the Same, we will be One.  And isn’t that what Love really is? Yes, I know it and believe it to be so.  This masculine, charming, loving man of mine, for you I am here and I can ensure this: you are in for a wonderful treat: Love.

A Valentine 2 U

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Today is a day that was set aside to remind us of our inherent and divine gift: Love.
Love is the essence of all things; without it there would be nothing except nothing. It is the color with which we paint our world. It is the heart with which we feel. It is the eyes with which we see. It fuels the mind with which we come to understand. It comes from a place of knowing.

Go out today, and every day as a matter of truth and fact, and cultivate, create, share, express, live, and be Love.

Enjoy it...the Feel of and the Good of Love.


I Love You (yes, you) for many things: especially because you take care in looking, feeling, and being good, with your own personal style and flair and energy. Thank You.


*previously published on another site of which I am the publisher and owner of in 2010

Untitled 98 (twentythirteen Remix)

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Monday, February 4, 2013


I can remember the color of the light 
as it splayed itself across the white walls of the room
 and the feel of you in my bed
I can remember feeling the weight of the sounds
of our love that was made
your body pressed on mine,
and you made me feel
proud
to say that I loved you
and in comfortable contemplation of how easily
I was caught then,
once more and again.

Suspended
in the absence of us
I can see the empty look of all of the emptiness
that lies within
the knowing that there is no longer “we”, “us”, or even “them”,
the impression that is left here now is
the full understanding that there is now only
a measure of time
given as a token from another realm
a nurturing realization that I will be so full of me,
 without you

A Sneak Peek

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Saturday, February 2, 2013


I was never one who was shy or afraid of sexuality or sex even at an early age. I was increasingly interested in it and have many a memory to attest to this. Even as a child, I knew that sex wasn’t some dirty little secret that was meant to be kept away from me or that it was “the naughty thing to do” but that it was a vessel of expression and frankly, it looked like a whole lot of fun. I of course didn’t believe this when I first encountered sex—it frankly scared me because I thought the two people were hurting each other from what I gathered from the sounds that were being made and the rapid, exertive movements they were doing—it was this very question that made me deeply wonder about sex itself, why was it something only adults did (and did often in my childhood home) and if it hurts why does it look like fun?
We all have had our first introductions with sex when, as a child, you may have “overheard” your parents enjoying the company of each other in their private quarters. And I'm sure I am not the only one to wonder “what's wrong with Mommy and Daddy?” as also I'm probably not the only one to get up out of bed and wander down the hall and ask them personally and walk in during their adult time, enacting the dreaded “coitus interruptus”. I'm sure though, in this case, I'm of the select few who then began, after the first couple of “accidents”,  to begin to do it purposely, and, I confess, to actually hide out and watch and then get purposely caught, consequently enacted “coitus interruptus” and getting a swift spanking and a rapid cart off back to my room. Sitting in the dark, with my tiny bottom sore, and a salty and devilish tear in my eye, I’d ponder what I witnessed and turn question after question in my mind about the event I saw and why I wasn’t allowed to have seen this. Yes, I became a tried and true voyeur as a child, at the wise young age of four, of my own free and conscious will. I can readily say I may have actually witnessed the makings of my younger sister at that age, a few of my younger cousins a few years later, and one of my godsons later on in my young adult life. I know, it may sound leery and creepy but actually it’s not. It might have been curiosity that killed the proverbial cat but it was an intriguing sexual curiosity that had blossomed my views of sex and coaxed my voyeurism to increasing heights. Maybe because I got a spanking each time I got caught watching my parents (or older cousins or aunts and uncles) fucking I kept seeking a voyeuristic moment or maybe because I felt the need to just watch and learn and observe…or maybe its something else not yet tapped into that compelled me to sneak a peek of people in the act…all I know of it now is that I was deeply compelled, transfixed, and sought it out, and I would do it as much as I could and would be mentally aroused by the entirety of it.

One of these early memories that I vividly recall witnessing was when I was about eight years old. 
My Aunt Linda and her husband Brian and my two cousins were moving from the East Coast to my hometown. They made an exhaustive cross-country road trip west and had to stay with us for a few weeks before moving into a house my mother owned in another part of town. It was all fun and games and a lot of getting acquainted with this family, whom I had last seen when I was a baby in my native country and I really had no recollection of ( I am the first born of the first generation of the culturally assimilated in my family and the first of only ten born of that generation in our native country. This is a distinct honor in my culture and in my family). My aunt and uncle had met and dated at the same time as my parents did and had my cousin just four months after I was born. I had never really met them or my cousins until that summer they moved into town and into my home. 
What I did know was that I found my aunt and uncle to be quite a beautiful couple. I was intrigued to see a woman, my mother’s near aged younger sibling, who had different and darker features and a different body and a different demeanor than my mother, yet the similarities were present. It wasn’t my mother reflected back to me but a different possibility of her, and a reflection of my family, and possibly of myself. Her husband was unlike any man I had seen before and he was definitely intriguing to me. He was tall, muscular, disgustingly assertive and boisterously masculine, and he was also mulatto with unique features and a deep milky complexion. My mother’s boyfriend at the time kind of looked like Brian but would’ve been the “small fry” to his champion  bodybuilder look.

One night I caught the sounds of Linda and Brian breathing heavy and speaking in hushed tones, as they were sleeping in my sister’s room next door to mine (we had an adjoining shared bathroom between our rooms and sounds carried easily through the echoing of that bathroom). My sister, my cousins, and I were all asleep in my room. Leave it to me, with ears like an owl, to spy this. It also helped that the bathroom doors to both rooms were open (on their side) and ajar (on mine). I opened my eyes and laid there for just a moment, listening to make sure they were doing what I thought they were. I crept silently into the bathroom, making sure to not make any noise to wake anyone in my room or to alert them to my presence. I actually crawled on the floor in to the bathroom and laid still on the tiled floor. They had some small light on so there was faint lighting, and I spied my aunt on top of my uncle (cowgirl style) writhing and gyrating. She was breathing  and saying his name and he was saying hers. My mother never did this with my father before or her current boyfriend so I knew I was getting my first real glimpse of unbridled enjoyment. All the few times I spied on my mother, I never got the sense that she was thoroughly enjoying it but rather going through the motions for the man’s pleasure. My aunt, on the other hand, was clearly enjoying it, not only for herself but she was making sure my uncle enjoyed it too. 
This was the first time, I believe, I saw sex as an act of pleasure and purpose, and in this moment I began to understand what the fun was all about. This was also the first time I had seen a woman on top (again, my mother was a missionary style girl) and the first time I saw an actual erect penetrating penis, and my uncle was (through current understanding) well-endowed. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing because it was so different than anything I had seen before, and I remember holding my breath for the entire ten minutes I could stand to watch. I remember silently crawling back into my room and into bed. I made no sound and had no intention to interrupt them. I remember laying back down and listening to them continue until the sounds faded to silence again. 

My head wasn’t filled with questions this time. It was filled at that very moment with the stirrings my own quest to find out for myself about sex, and to come to an understanding of how and why it was so much fun.

I never witnessed Brian and Linda having sex after that night (although I did hear them one afternoon about two years later going at it but didn’t have the guts to peek at them from outside through the window). Maybe it’s because I honestly didn’t want to tarnish or diminish that indelible image of them in my mind. I did continue to harbor my secret sexual attraction to uncle Brian (even though I didn’t really like him as a person because of his attitude and boorish nature) and cultivated it when I discovered that he gave the most thorough and delightfully intense spankings, which he quickly got an understanding of when he flat out refused to spank me ever again because he sensed (and told me point blank) that I “got off on being bad, getting caught, and liked it too much” (Oh yes, I did!!). I admit, I used to seek out trouble to get reprimanded by him and I guess because I’d never cry when he’d spank me he knew there was something else going on (Come to think of it, uncle Brian ignited this submissive spark in me too). I used to think (and sort of still do) that maybe uncle Brian knew I had spied on him and aunt Linda that night and because of my voyeurism I had this secret affection for him, and that I was teetering too close to a line uncrossable for a child of any persuasion or capacity.

All the other voyeuristic opportunities I had later on in my childhood (or early adolescence) didn’t compare to that fateful night, nor did most of them enhance or further develop my understanding from that first sneak peek of pure adult passion. 
What I know that experience did for me was open my eyes and awaken my senses to the encompassing world of an examined and cultivated sensuality of my own design, rooted in pleasure and unbridled energy, felt in my adult body and perceived in my adult mind.

Compelled

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Thursday, January 31, 2013




I don’t know what it is that draws me nearer to you
It is like a magnetism that has no further pull than our inherent concentricity
It is an electrical current that runs ever so swiftly through my entire being
I am ignited by the very essence of you

I don’t know what it is that locks me in to your orbit
It is a gravity that pushes me to pull you closer inside my depths
It is the mechanism of union and the locomotion of energy
I am set ablaze by the bottom of the blue-core flame of you
There is nothing I can do to be set free from you
I don’t ever want to go away from your side

Rebel Student

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Monday, January 28, 2013


The student/apprentice that I am always feels the need to rebel against the teacher. It is a way of exerting intellectual independence counter to all the lessons taught and learned, expressing the internal truth I have within myself , expressing my own intelligence and it works this way, which is not always your way, the taught-to-be right way. I recognize this rebellion yet do not try to temper it. It is my learned behavior of learning.
I am learning to come to understand in the teachers way now, with totality and without feint.

Committed

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Friday, January 25, 2013

*this is an excerpt from a journal entry from January 1998, written as an self-exposition on a personal issue I needed to express and I felt strongly about and is still relevant today. After spending years on improving myself and my relationships, I now rest happily being the Master/Student always ready to learn and continue to evolve even further into my joyous Higher Self. I hope that by sharing this entry and exposing a deep layer of myself, it may give you the freedom to choose to do the same and stake your own claim to reach inside yourself and grow. Thank you for allowing me to share with you and if you find this helps you in anyway, feel free to comment and let me know. Live on!
-M


I accept the fact that I have commitment issues. Not some superficial explanations of my relationship shortcomings but a real and deeper exploration of my relationship issues. I am doing this so that I can love wholly and completely and without pretense or apprehension, and, above all else, without fear. I know that I hold many things back when involved with someone that later come out in other ways destructively, both to the relationship and to myself. My masochistic side comes from this and out of this. I do not want to continue ending up in the same situation, the same old story. How many times do I have to try and tell myself that I am sorry for myself when I have laid these traps in front of myself, in spite of myself? I cannot fathom enduring another sweeping heartbreak when I have aimed the stinging arrow in my own direction. It is a bed of thorns that I have become well adjusted to laying in. I'd much rather sleep in billows of clouds now, a much deserved solace from these self-endured misgivings in relationships.

Someone said to me once that I “am an answer to a prayer”. What a line to follow! What a commitment to the belief! Am I really an answer to something as big and sweeping as a prayer? I am scared to ponder and even more afraid to know if I am indeed the answer one seeks to questions or even prayers. I don’t know if I’m allowing my relationship shortcomings to stop me or if I am willing to be brave enough to take a leap forward. I haven’t had any success in creating new lasting love relationships that I want and desire to commit to, through my own volition, and admission. I am certain it is because I have been building grand walls against hurt and against rejection, and lined in these walls I find complacency and a sickly sweet melancholy. I have also instilled a smart little system for myself when it comes to love relationships that will always and most certainly hit a delicate glass ceiling simply because it "works", to no advantage to my Heart (or theirs for that matter).  It is a failing substitution and yet a proven way to strengthen up my resolve against romantic heartache and pain, a means to becoming an expert brush off artist or the ultimate emotional masochist when it comes to love. 

I have built up a standard that no one has yet come to fit. This standard is the ultimate illusion, and I cannot continue to resign myself to adhere to it. If I am such an open-minded and unconditionally accepting person who does not carry or harbor judgments before me in all areas of my life, why is it that I allow myself to seek this illusion in love?  How can I expect to be accepted without conditions and on the basis of "who I am" when I see these illusions as a reality and where I ecstatically seek it?  This is a grave disservice and I do not want to continue to participate in it and give it energy to live. I have built up a standard of which I am not allowing myself to be fit to receive and fit to give in equal, balanced measure by this illusion. I accept and admit that I have fallen in love with these illusions time and again and I know better now.

I am letting all of these emotions and experiences (past and present) out and letting it all go, finally freeing myself from the confines of being a boxed-in, committed love junkie. I now step forward into a fully realized existence where I am nurturing and eliminating any pain I have caused myself and my Heart, where there is no blame placed or victims pained, only champions of evolution and growth. I have learned and I am learning, always the apprentice even when I am a master. Presently and going forward, I will always honor my Heart and my Love and allow these gifts to bloom without barriers and without fail.

I deserve it.

Knots

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Thursday, January 24, 2013


At the very thought of what you represent
You put my stomach in knots and stir an ache so deep
There is no escape; I am trapped within my own womb by the seed you have planted
Within me
Who is to know what will blossom in my private garden or
What weeds will grow; how can you tender me to nurture the Idea that has been
Awakened
I cannot give it safe passage because my core betrays it with a simple thought of you
Twisted and tied against the unchain joy of what this new birth brings
You put me on an edge above the precipice of beginnings
Only to wretch against the impending final moment
Imagined

There is nothing more real than the happiness that you promise and the fear of not ever having it again that keeps me twisted in this mess of emotions playing false tricks on my expanding mind and my growing heart. There is nothing more real than the true possibility of Forever and the true fact of Never. There is only this moment this thought this feeling of wonder and opportunity to fall so deep into You that I will be lost forever tied up in knots so tight and intricate entwined in a bond unbreakable not even time can separate the two. Minds and hearts and bodies tongue-twisted and tied up in endlessly seamless, interwoven knots of each Other.


One More Time

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Wednesday, January 23, 2013


My goodness how I have thought of you
I remember those nights that I used to sit and long for you,
How could I forget the way it felt to ache to hear
your voice and see you
Just one more time

My goodness how I have thought of you
I would open up the chasms deep inside
And let you back in
What more could there be in this world to fill the void
The joy of being so connected in commiseration with you
Just one more time

Evolution Resolution

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Tuesday, January 1, 2013

During this time of year, fresh off the heels of New Year celebrations and revelry, everybody starts talking about the changes they intend to bring in with them and implement. These changes, or resolutions, most of the time get lost and forgotten within months. We get bombarded by the media by "resolution stories" to the point of annoyance (to me).

I don't make resolutions, I make choices of evolution.
I intend to continue to change the way I conduct my life on many levels. I intend to make change in how I serve the world and my community. I intend to further embrace my creativity and my commitment to it and its expansion. I intend to strengthen my business so that it evolves and grows exponentially. I intend to grow my personal relationships and always express my love and adoration to those who are dear to me. I intend to continue to explore the world around me and share my point of view of it with you. I intend to always have an open heart, an open mind, and open eyes so that I will always see the good surrounding me, feel the infinite good around me, and to do it with my own style.

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The Beam Shines On

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It doesn't matter the time, incident, or place because Love will always be present and will always heal. time is irrelevant and has no bearing when it comes to loss or pain or strife because Love will come in and will always heal. life ebbs and flows and continues on because Love will always be present and will always heal. it is a gun with a beam of Divine Lovelight and it shines on. Forever.

I point it at you, at me, at the world, at the Universe. I point the Beam of Love.

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