Is there an equivalent to 'fag hag' for lesbians?

Maybe it's my inherent desire for a more dominant partner, maybe it's the lack of sexual concern or misconception, but I really like lesbians.

Yes, I wish more lesbians were willing to make an exception, but that's not why I like hanging out with them. I'm not hoping they'll change their minds. I more think they're interesting, they're the kind of people I want to hang out with.

And they're nice. To me, at least.

What if it were possible to commit suicide temporarily?

As you all know by now, I have a problem with depression. Most of the time, I handle it well enough between therapy, drugs, and of course unloading my deepest personal thoughts on an unsuspecting audience, like all of you.

But there are times when it gets bad. Times when it gets bad enough that all I want is for things to stop. For the pressure of the world, the needs of my life, the constraints of my schedule, to just stop. It's not about trying to find escapism. I can find escapism. I mean completely stopping.

The A to Z of fetish

Okay... What follows is a lengthy fantasy. It's meant to take place over a period of more than a week, and that is how I wrote it. I present it here in its entirety though.
Please comment. Especially if you like it.

So subtle you're invisible

Once, someone told me that I couldn't subtly manipulate my way out of a paper bag. I was at the same time offended and pleased. Offended, because he might be right, and pleased, because he was probably wrong.

I can be subtle. I can be very subtle. What I have trouble with, though, is a little subtle. At the time that comment was made, I could either be so subtle that you would have absolutely no idea, or so blatant that it was like hitting you with a large fish. Either way, extreme was the only way I knew how.

I've learned since then. I've learned the art of manipulation, the subtlety of word choice, of communication. I've learned nonverbal cues, to read and to project them. I've made a study of subtlety.

But sometimes, I still get it wrong. I try to be subtle, but to let someone know, and I end up overshooting. I try to give hints about something, but the hints are in code, or hidden inside other comments. I keep hinting and hinting, feeling like I'm practically giving them a sign, but that sign is in another language. And another room. In the dark.

Usually, this happens when I'm dealing with sex and potential partners. I don't like to be too blunt, and so I end up being too subtle. I aim for aloof, and I land on invisible.

It's distracting and disappointing.

And I'm doing it again. Look back at this post. What was I saying again?

Honesty and Truth

There's a big difference between being honest and being truthful. I taught myself this lesson in college, when I experimented with just how dishonest, and how manipulative, I could be without ever actually telling a lie. By talking about one thing and then quickly shifting the topic, without a noticeable pause in my speech, I could convince someone that the two topics were connected, even when they weren't, without telling a lie.

Thankfully, I was doing this experiment in a game setting, so no one was hurt by it.
But I did learn a lot of tricks. I learned that leaving a word out here and there doesn't necessarily make something a lie, but might make it as deceptive as hell. I learned that some things are technically true even if they seem like lies. And that TECHNICALLY true is all that really matters. You can tell the truth and be a deceptive motherfucker.

White Knights

White Knight Syndrome is a serious problem. At least for me. When I see someone I care about (even just as friends) in a relationship with someone who doesn't treat them right, I not only try to get them to break up with the person, I also start entertaining fantasies about swooping in and having a relationship with them, even just as a secondary, to SHOW them how it's supposed to work, so they don't make the same mistake again.

Because they do. They all do. Boy or girl, man or woman, boi or gurl; they all make the same mistake. They begin to think that the relationship is a good one, and that everyone has to work at it, that compromises always need to happen, and so they stay with the idiot or, worse, the abusive jerk. And when they finally do get away, what do they do? They replace the jerk with someone exactly the same, because that's what they think they're supposed to do.

How much mourning is 'enough'?

A couple of things have been reminding me of death lately. And along with death, I've started to think about mourning.

As you know, dear readers, my mother died seven years ago last Friday. And my father passed away last October. Neither one of these were easy to go through, and I can't honestly say I'm over either one.