Bear, Bisexual, Bottom : Yep. That’s me.

Unrelated to anything before this point in my life, I’ve been put in a position to question a lot of things lately. Thinking hard and deep about myself, my life, my transition, and my current path. I’ve really been fighting things about myself to chase this view of masculinity and heteronormativity I was always taught was “correct” or “acceptable”. I’ve always kept this attitude of “I don’t like guys and if I do, I certainly won’t admit it where too many can hear me.” vibe. But the signs were pretty much all over.

My Facebook is made up of mostly queer/bi/gay men of leather and some women, a handful of trans-people. But the majority of people I click best with and get along with are male identified. We connect better, we see things the same, we share the same kinks and fetishes. It’s been this way for years. I think there’s been a very small amount of partners that I’ve met who were fully femme and female. Thinking back on my dating trails, I’ve had more trans and male identified partners than I have female. That’s not to say I do not enjoy women. That’s just how it’s been and when I first came out as trans, I was quite literally what we call here in Long Island a “circut fag.”. Club kid, snappy dressed, leather bound beneath his pink button up, “Bitch, I love your hair.” kind of gay. Can you imagine? Things began to change when I met Sara, my ex from Syracuse. She was a strict D/S girl. Daddy’s girl and my first taste of D/S with a woman who identified as a “queer femme chick”. She was poly, preferred transmen and cismen (but did not date them. Sex only), feminist, and very radical. She did not have rigid ideals of masculinity, but being with her got a certain reaction out of people in society. I was the “straight guy”. I was “normal”. We blended in. We “made sense”. The fact that I pass really well and always have was always a benefit in this.

Then I met Amanda. She was your all-american girl according to society’s standards. Raised evangelical christian, petite, not insanely intellectual, submissive in nature, and a people-pleaser. All the guys wanted her and all the girls wanted to be her. People literally fawned over her in public and all the guys who’d never in their lives want to befriend me suddenly wanted to chill with me and rub elbows. I was suddenly the “guy with the hot girl. He must be awesome because look how average he is and how HOT his girl is.” Male privilege never felt so fucking good. I was drunk off of it. We had “attractive” friends that were literally something out of a music video. All the guys were hot, buff, but average minded. All the girls were attractive, came from money, but didn’t have an insane amount of substance. The few cool ones in these groups were few and far between, I normally gravitated towards them where Amanda did not. Mostly because it would put her in an unfavorable place with her friends. I never cared. I was on top of my game. I was happy. Or so I thought.

I remember with ALL OF MY PARTNERS from Sara to Shelby, there was always a part of me that craved a masculine presence from them on some level. I LOVED their male sides a lot more than their female sides at times, not always but at times I needed that and made it very clear I wanted it. It never mattered to me that it was something they didn’t wish to openly advertise to people. It was a part of them, I enjoyed it thoroughly and allowed them to express it freely. Because I loved all of them. There’s always something much less inhibited and raw about the masculine mind-frame. Something that the female mind doesn’t always offer and in fact, rarely does. Make no mistake, I love women. I crave them as much as I do transmen and gender-fluid/flux partners. I am just now much more ready to accept the fact that I’m not as straight as I have been leading on or trying to emulate. I am very much a queer identified transman. I can be highly masculine most of the time, but I can also be a bit more femme or bottomy. I do not really like to use the term femme as I don’t believe there’s ever been a time recently where I felt comfortable being “femme”. I use the term soft. Because deflection first, acceptance later.

I have always struggled with my sexual identity. I had a trans partner named Eliott when I lived in Syracuse. He moved from Massachusetts to live with us. I recall we went out to the Carosel Center Mall one day and held hands as we walked to the comic shop. He was wearing a t-shirt that said “Tranny” on it and I absolutely hated the fact he would billboard himself that way. Thinking back, that was just a bit transphobic considering he was just expressing himself. But I still have an issue with those kinds of t-shirts, regardless of your identity. For my own reasons that mostly come from “are you sure you need to advertise your identity to validate it?”. Again, just my opinion. However, I remember when we passed the food court a gentleman and his friends passed us. By the time they got far away enough we heard them scream out “Fruitball!!” My first taste of open displays of homophobia. I immediately stopped holding his hand and walked a little ahead of him. This was not the first time I had done something like this. We often argued over his trans t-shirts, my friends (who were all metal-heads that I worked with and mostly conservative despite being open-minded) thought he was weird because his interests were deeply rooted in queer culture. Frankly, you really can’t explain to a 45 year-old bush supporter how you raised money for a queer coffee shop by hosting a puppet show and expect him not to raise an eyebrow. Even I was a little bit put off by it, I am not and will never be that kind of radical “granola” queer, as I call it.

During my time with Jaxx in Indiana, he and I often argued over the fact that I would not engage with him in PDA when we went out. I was terrified of having our asses kicked in the middle of rural Indiana. He was really offended that I wasn’t “proud of him” as he put it. I suppose it wasn’t that I was not proud of him, I was less proud of myself. I was really stuck on the fact that being seen as “gay” on any level was a horrible fate and that I had already had enough judgement being trans and having BPD. I wanted no more of it.

These last few days with Donni have been a bit eye opening, but still very scary for me. However, it’s shown me that it’s time to embrace some things about myself that I’ve been trying to stifle for a long time:

My name is Shane-Michael.

I’m a Queer/Bi-sexual transman.

I love women

I love transmen and masculine identified, non-cisgender individuals.

I am a man of leather and kink

I am a bear


 I think, in all fairness, in order to better know the more complex parts of me I need to start over with the basic roots. I feel that being more open about this is a good start to that. I have always been a bear, always been bisexual and often in denial of it.

I am sick of hiding. I am sick of running. I am sick of denying who I am out of fear of what anyone things. Partners, friends, society. I am a queer, Trans, fat, hairy, kinky bear bottom and god damn proud of it.



We can’t be friends.


What an interesting day. I was overjoyed with Donni last night. He’s discovered his pup zone and experienced his first high from it. Seeing him so happy was nothing short of beautiful. He was left utterly speechless. He’s a NATURAL pup. King swoons over him and yearns to teach him. I think we’re finally on to something.

Perhaps not a DS dynamic. But this could very well be a fruitful pup and handler dynamic. I will be continuing to work with him on this and see what we come up with.

Donni will not be kept to a routine. He has his own and he does it very well. He wakes each day at 8am. On his own. Never misses a day of work and in fact, was sent home early today due to him working himself into slight back strain. He has a few herniated disks already and poor knees. He tends to push himself a bit past his physical limitations and is rather stubborn about going easy on himself. I’m going to try to work with him on it. Among other things. He’s determined to be a businessman in grooming and move on to rescue work. He’s firm on this and I’m entirely impressed by HOW firm he is on it.

However, during our first broadcast on Facebook I forgot that I had not changed my settings to friends only. I noticed a comment from my former on the video. It was unwanted, so I ignored it. Figuring I’d block her after and clean up the comments. Then I get a message. She offered friendship to me after we “healed”. I declined but offered to allow her to occasionally view my materials from a silent distance, providing she didn’t comment on my posts. She blocked me promptly after.

Sorry PUDDIN’ but Mista Jay is never leaving Arkham again. As for Shane? I’m gentleman enough to admit we have no reason to be friends. We were to be married, I was to adopt your son, and after all the lies you still tell about me…you wish my friendship? Please excuse me if I politely decline and set my boundaries, but yet offer a gift should you want it. Clearly it’s not good enough as usual, so it’s been placed back at my feet. I’m okay with this. I think it’s best we never speak again. I have already forgiven, but I wish to forget. I’m not interested in holding onto memories that are harmful anymore much less befriend them. I do not want to be where I am not wanted. As I’ve said, what kind of gentleman would I be to interject myself where I’m no longer wanted or needed? No thank you, dear. You have all you need where you are and I have enough friends. I have given you the opportunity to watch from a distance if you “care” so much. But I did not want this, any of it. So I politely decline it and leave it to you and yours, with all respect given to all parties.

Perhaps that sounds a bit harsh, bitter even. But at the moment, I am unable to offer that and I am not sure if I will be again. From my perspective, when you really love someone you can’t just take those feelings away and put them aside. You can place them appropriately at times, but if you find yourself unable to I feel it’s best to simply remove yourself from the situation entirely. Out of respect for yourself and everyone involved. I do not think we will ever be friends, because this is where I am at :



Right now and I’m not sure how long it will take, I am not ready to be friends. I do not want to be. It will cause far more harm than good on both sides and there’s no reason to dig into wounds that still haven’t healed. None at all. We’ve both suffered enough and are trying to be happy or already are. I suppose depending on who you ask, they may call me immature. I am not. I am a man who is still very much in love, very much broken-hearted, very angry, and very conflicted. It is for the best that I become a very faint memory. Something she will barely consider before she ends her day, until she is no longer ending her day alone and I’m nothing more than a song on the radio she can’t stand. Or a tv show that reminds her of my jokes for three minutes. Or passing by a location and thinking “He used to like it here.” and then carrying on about her day like it was nothing. I have no further place in my former’s life but that and it’s not my choosing. It’s how it has to be. I don’t have a choice. Either does she. I may not know everything about myself, but I know myself well enough to know this isn’t going to be healthy either. She couldn’t handle my issues enough to love me, I couldn’t handle hers enough to make her feel loved. Friendship certainly won’t change that either and at this point, it would be really uncomfortable. Too much damage that cannot be repaired. Especially in the final stages. There are some things we just cannot forgive. I’m sure she would agree with that. I’m also not going to continue to make myself look like a fool because I am in love with someone who no longer reciprocates it and after all we fought for, plans made, and attachments that came with it I do not think I will ever be able to look back and offer anything. Not even friendship. I won’t continue to put myself through the emotional torment. I love myself as well and plan to stand on that no matter how deeply wounded I am that the person who promised to stand by me through this battle refused and in the end resented me for it as well as lied about me. I am no angel, I am not free of sin, I own any fault that I need to and continue to, but I am also not a monster. I am not a cruel person, I am broken and sought a partner who was willing to stand by me while I fix myself. Perhaps we do not see eye to eye on this but that wouldn’t shock me. We rarely did see eye to eye on this issue, I was always the one who was worse. Always the insensitive one, always the bad guy.

“You’re all a bunch of fuckin’ assholes. You know why? You don’t have the guts to be what you want to be. You NEED people like me. You need people like me so you can point your fuckin’ fingers and say ‘that’s the bad guy’. So, what does that make you? Huh? You’re not good. You just know how to hide. How to lie. Me? I don’t have that problem. Me? I always tell the truth. Even when I lie. So say goodnight to the bad guy. The last time you’re going to see a bad guy like this again, let me tell you.”

It’s not completely accurate to the situation, but there is some relevance within it. I’m sure the people who matter will be able to understand the message in there. However, understand this is not easy for me. I am going through a lot of ups and downs. I seem happy on the outside, but on the inside I am crushed and the only person who’s been seeing that so far is Donni. He’s been there through all my tears, all my pains, all my aches, and through every correspondence I and my former have had over the last few days. I still have no clue how I feel. About anything. I’m very conflicted, very lost, very broken, and just unsure about a lot of things. I feel like I’ve exploded from the inside out and someone is trying to pick up all the pieces of flesh to stitch them back together. I just know that having to draw the final line as I said I would if this is how she wanted things has been hard and is every time I think of her. But I know that’s no longer reciprocated. I understand.


This is exactly why I had to decline. There is just too much there and that won’t ever change. Sometimes you have to accept that you’ll always be in love with someone. I’ve never felt like that about someone before and I know no matter how many times we put one another down, the moment we interact I will be right back where I was even if she no longer would or will. It’s not going to help anyone, it’s not going to benefit anyone, it’s just not anything anymore. It has to be. I’ve learned that there will be times in life where you lose something more precious to you than your own life and if you can’t keep it, you can’t continue to pine after it. You need to be brave and walk away completely. I will never be to her what I was promised I’d be and equally, I can’t give her what she needs. It’s not good enough. I am not good enough. So I accept that as a proper gentleman and remove myself. Consider me the lesser of Kings and my level of wealth and influence no longer welcome. I understand and I hope she does also. I was not joking when I said to her that if this is what she wants, I would not be able to speak with her again. I would not be able to forgive, I would not be able to put my love aside and that is what it is. Anyone who’s ever dated me knows that and the TWO people I speak to whom I’ve dated, I did not date seriously.

There will be a day when I am “over it”. I’m not sure when that day will come. I’m not sure if my feelings then will change. I know right now, this is how I feel. It hasn’t changed for anyone before her, I don’t think it will after. Perhaps down the road, I’ll know. But for now?

Goodbye is goodbye.


What happens when Harley leaves the Joker? He regains his sanity….thanks to Batman.


The Lazarus Pit has restorative capabilites, such has bringing the nearly dead back to life and restoring youth, vigor and vitality to the aged.  However to some, after emerging from The Pit, undergo a brief period of insanity. This seemed to have the reverse effect on good old Mr. J. batman-legends-of-the-dark-knight-145-2001-digital-empire-010


I consider that very pit to be the forced reality Donni has subtly thrown me into. Like Batman, Donni found me with multiple wounds. Much deeper than gunshots, but wounds none the less. Knowing how his previous relationship went with his ex who had BPD and ended her own life, Donni still did not let that cause him to judge me and in fact played a part in why he chose to stand BY me to some degree. I found myself very quickly thrown into the fact that it’s time to move forward, time to accept, time to let the grieving stage pass, and swallow the fact that some people cannot handle a partner with BPD and maybe even on the same side of the coin someone with BPD cannot be in a serious relationship with someone, or seriously attached TO someone, until they’ve addressed some of their issues and properly fixed them. It’s equally important to remember that people will reach their breaking point.

I also accept the fact that bitterness and biased perception based on hurt is going to be a factor. Yet, I feel the need to get my mind off of a few things about it during my stage of acceptance. Which at this point is “Okay. I understand and all? But here’s why you’re still kind of shitty for your end of the bargain.”.

This is Lazarus’ pit and what I see now that I emerge from it’s waters.

“I see your game.”

I find it rather quaint how some people, even people with mental illnesses themselves, will demand agency for people WITH mental illness. But the moment they find themselves with a partner who either suffers it alone or suffers with it alongside their own mental illnesses, their opinions suddenly shift. They blame, they accuse, they shame all while they demand the understanding and consideration they once demanded but now suddenly are unable to give. Because now THEY have to face something alongside their own demons. They can’t handle it, they cave, and they act as if their partner is an absolute monster who doesn’t understand THEIR illness. Suddenly, their partner is “abusive” and “playing games”. Almost as if they are INTENTIONALLY being symptomatic. Yet when they find themselves on a low, everyone must understand it’s a low and if they do not that person is just a pretty little victim of insensitivity toward their own mental illness. But that person I love who has BPD? They’re a manipulative, lying, abusive prick! Way to completely invalidate someone’s suffering using hypocrisy as a benefactor. My mental illness isn’t a game as much as your bi-polar disorder isn’t just “moody and attention seeking.”.

“I hate you, don’t leave me” is a borderline mantra. It is a theme driven by a lack of known true self and primitive fear and anxiety generated by profound intrapsychic wounds in early developmental years by those later diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). This dance or dynamic of pathological regressed relating on the part of those with BPD is the root cause of so much pain for those with BPD and those who love and care about them in relationships. It is a central causative reality as to why so many relationships fail. Those who are non-borderline in relationships with those with BPD need to understand why they are hated one minute and loved and/or needed the next minute.” – Psychology Today

Focusing on the last part : “Those who are NON-BORDERLINE in relationships with those with BPD need to understand why they are hated one minute and loved and/or needed the next minute.” people who enter into relationships with me often find themselves very susceptible to this. I think my last partner was the only person I’ve dated, sadly, who was FULLY AWARE of what borderline was. Of how it worked and how to deal with it. Yet she just couldn’t cope. I’m sure she had her plausible reasons. But she often made it seem like I was a highly dangerous and abusive individual when really, I am very damaged. She also knew this and greatly sympathized at times, until my symptoms popped up and I needed her reassurance. Or I needed her support. She was so hard about it after a few weeks into our relationship that I no longer felt safe with her. I didn’t feel safe conveying my emotions because she’d often blow up on me for them. The WAY she would built resentment on top of the resentment for being unable to communicate. Hitting, throwing things, threatening to break my stuff, throwing my things out of her apartment, telling me how horrible of a Dominant and partner I was, calling me by my dead name and shaming my masculinity or fully robbing me of it at all. There was never a time in our relationship where I could rely on HER support. She constantly demanded mine. Demanded I support her during her bi-polar lows. Demanded I understand her hyper-sexual and attention seeking needs when she was manic. Demanded. Demanded. Demanded. With a violent vengeance. But never gave.

But yet I stayed. Because I loved her. Because I genuinely thought she understood me and her raging, her beatings, her death threats, and transphobic/emasculating insults, her falsified tales of abuse were just her way of trying to cope and possibly a result of her mental illness also. I remained considerate. I remained as calm as I was able. I remained.

I did the best I could to support her through the bad days. But failed. I failed because I myself was too damaged to be able to give her that. Not as often as she needed and I still had a LONG way to go before I would be able to, I still do. This is not her fault nor mine, it’s the fault of my mental illness and how it has affected my life and ability to make decisions. Topple that with my home environment at the time and it was a terrible mixture. There’s still not much difference in my home life today from then till now, but I’ve better control over how it affects me and how I respond to it. Also, I had a huge issue with space and distance. In order to be able to be truly intimate and not threatened and/or triggered by it one has to be able to tolerate distance. Many with BPD are unable to tolerate average healthy distance that is necessary in healthy relationships. Rather we experience this distance as rejection and/or abandonment. The intense feelings that these feelings of rejection and/or abandonment fuel is the force that causes those with BPD to feel a desperate need to defend against the very one they love and partly want to be close to. This distances the borderline’s partner in often abusive ways and leave the borderline feeling rejected and/or abandoned again. It is a very self-defeating circle to be stuck in and you WILL get stuck in it if you were at the stage I was at when my last partner and I began and stayed at until I left her one final time.

Until we find ourselves and reclaim our TRUE selves in therapy, intimacy and being close to anyone is far too threatening. While we may truly want to be close we fear it with as much, if not more, intensity, and end up defending against it and pushing away what we really want and need with and from the other person. This sets us up to continue to re-experience this as rejection and/or abandonment which in a cognitively-distorted way then supports our belief that we are not safe in trying to be close and we need to go into defense mode. It’s a cycle of perpetual self-defeat and leaves those close to us in a double-bind “no win” situation.

Knowing this and still walking into a relationship with a Borderline person is pretty brave. Especially a borderline who has not gone through therapy or any means of DBT or treatment. I think, to be fair, my former did try her best to see through it and into me as much as that was reciprocal. But in the end, the fact that I needed more work to be done on ME and the fact that she needed someone much more solid and able to LEAD HER in life itself was the major factor here beside the borderline creating the wedge that drew space between.

What tends to get set up in relationships for us is the re-playing of our past relationships. Past relationships which often were full of emotional trauma, mixed messages and insecurity. The feelings of being engulfed as a child feel annihilating because we are very needy and dependent upon parents or caretakers in general and this kind of child-like neediness is re-enacted by us in intimate relationships even friendships, because it is all we know. We know a fear that is so deeply ingrained in a seriously profound woundedness that is then played out again and again. It’s a repetitive compulsion which originates from a deep-seated need to resolve the primitive and emotional developmental conflicts that generate in our experience of being neglected, abandoned, rejected and invalidated. Be it real or perceived. This dance of “I hate you, don’t leave me” puts an enormous amount of pressure and responsibility upon our partners or friends. Unfortunately, many of us transfer our personal responsibility onto a partner. More often than not the partner, who is in the active throes of our BPD (usually untreated), is seen more often than not as the parent in what are constant triggered, fragmented, dissociated ways that we are experiencing our pasts in most here and now relational moments.

This dance is also a very real and painful dynamic for us and our partners to be in and the only way for us and our partners to cope is to seek help before the relationship is lost to it and animosity/hurt settles in, or the partner moves on entirely. You also need to accept the fact that your behavior is yours and it’s NOT your partner’s fault or responsibility. If you don’t accept this, you’ll continue to remain stuck in this dynamic and the relationship won’t survive. However, it’s also important for our partners or potential partners to understand that it’s CRUCIAL they recognize that we cannot change it nor can they change us. WE must be willing to help OURSELVES. They must be willing to be patient for the results.

I have realized my own transgressions. All of them. I realized the damage I have done and the extent of it. I also realize that I did have VALID reasons to take issue with the way things were handled and dished out. I had every right to stand against being assaulted, lied about, verbally abused, had my gender identity mocked and purposely had my dead name thrown at me. But I also had no right to react the way that I did to things on my former’s end. She needed my support too and I failed giving that. I failed giving that as much as she did. We both failed one another and it’s probably better off that things ended the way that they did. People can only take so much and when it comes to BPD, dating someone like me that is still NEW to treatment and for 8 months of our relationship had none at all is very difficult. I am emotionally weak, needy, co-dependent, and unstable. I am working to fix that. I accept that things are over, she is happy and I am as well.

I still have a very hard time forgiving a lot of things, just as she does. That’s how this whole dynamic works when the damage is done. Both parties are left with an immense amount of pain and possibly even trauma. The fact is that my BPD has ruined my life and the lives of others for many years and up until now continued to do so. As much as I have been hurt, I have hurt. As much as I have been abused, I have abused. This pattern has to come to an end and lately, I see so much hope. I see so much promise. I see so much.

I’m more than certain that in time, Long Island’s worst, Mr. Jay himself will rinse off the waters from the Lazarus pit and find himself to be a new man with much better qualities, see his former clown paint shed, and move on to being a proper man. The effects of the Lazarus pit in the comic are temporary, but as for me in the real world? I see this as a permanent path to chase. I want to heal. I want to be better. I want the people I’ve hurt to know that they didn’t suffer in vain. That their lives can improve and they can be happy and heal too. That I can do better, even without them and it’s not because they suck. Despite what may or may not have happened due to whatever relationship we had. Friends or beyond it. I am tired of being hurt. I’m tired of doing the hurting.

I’m leaving the clown paint behind and I’m bleaching the green from my hair. Mr. Jay is gone and I’m happy to say he isn’t making a return. I won’t allow it. Consider me Arkham’s greatest orderly.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and thank Bats for the new lease on life. If it wasn’t for him this week, I’d probably still be lying around a circle of knives cackling madly while plotting on how to get Harley back.

I’m not a monster. I’m a madman and even madmen have hearts that cry out for rebirth.


I could be your compass…

They say love is blind but infatuation kills. Perhaps this is true. However, I think there’s a MAJOR lesson to be learned this week and if I may say so, it’s been a hell of a pill to swallow. Of course, things have been up and down this week. I’ve gone through the motions, pushed through the grain, forced myself through the worst of emotions and looked back a few times like a fool.

However, Chess IS indeed hard. But thankfully, I was never a fan of the game. So I don’t partake.

I’ve been labeled a lot of things and to each one I snicker with amusement. My favorite this week would be being dubbed Long Island’s Worst. I’m still trying to figure out says who? But I suppose it depends on whom you ask. But you know what they say about opinions. Everybody’s got one and it’s usually bullshit.

In any case, I take pride in my current decision to take a much slower stance with D/S. I’ve honestly really been enjoying the break. It’s been nice to not have to be responsible for anyone but me and frankly, Donni has been doing an incredible job taking care of me. Without me even asking him to. He just…knows things.

He saw me on my phone a few times tonight while he was doing laundry. My panic and borderline was kicking in overdrive and he could see it by the way I was pacing his apartment texting mindlessly. He let me do my thing and when I put the phone down he immediately came over to me and hugged me. He knew what I was doing, he just didn’t say anything. Donni is very good at that. He’s not the type to yell or get angry very easily. He’s just a big teddy bear. For once it’s nice to have that serenity. We’re kind of a boring pair. We watch a lot of movies and tv together, we go out to eat, talk a lot. I’m trying to get him to go out more, but I see why he spends a lot of time at home. Donni’s job schedule is insane and he works almost 7 days a week. So he rarely has time to go out. He’s normally in bed by 12. We’re old. We’re boring. I’m okay with this.

Tonight during our kitchen nightmares marathon, we talked a little bit about my emotional state and how I was doing. “Still half a mess. I’m just trying to accept a few things.” He nodded, pausing for a moment as he took a drag from his cigarette. “You know, we’re both like compasses.” “Compasses? What the fuck, Donni?” I said with a laugh. “I mean, we’re both just kind of lost. Trying to find our way. I could totally be your compass, Shane.” I melted just a little, but deflected with a snicker. Emotions? WHAT ARE THOSE?!?!? “You’re fucking gay, Donovan.” I said, blushing just a little as I put on some tunes in an attempt to distract myself. “Yes. Yes I am.”

I’ve started calling Donni my “not boyfriend”. He loves it. It places a comfortable distance between us and we agreed that at this interval, it’s appropriate. I’m still coming to terms with myself and my sexuality on a few levels. I think it’s fair to him and to myself to keep an appropriate perspective on things by keeping emotions in check and not rushed. Donni is not my pacifier. But he’s also not my partner. It’s a thing and we have no idea what just yet, if anything.

I recall during the evening, about a half hour into kitchen nightmares, I was starting to pass out on his shoulder. He looked down at me and asked, “Do you want to go lay down?” “Yeah…” I said sleepily. I undressed down to my truck underwear that I normally enjoy when I’m in little space. He smiled as he looked at them. I lofted a brow, “You lookin’ at my butt, homo?” I said in a joking manner. There goes that ingrained homophobia, Shane. He shook his head. “I mean, I was looking at your trucks but….you know.” Goofy grin stretching across his face, he went into his walk-in closet and got his pj pants. Right into bed we got and suddenly my phone vibrates. It’s her. I don’t even bother to look, I had said enough. That lasted about 5 seconds, responding!! Donni didn’t flinch the whole time, he didn’t say a word. All I remember after putting my phone down, was having a full blown panic attack and then blacking out. I must have passed out after closing my eyes to try and self-soothe. But I woke up around 6am and freaked out a little. I felt like the walls were closing in on me and like I was terrified. I was sure I had a nightmare but couldn’t remember at the moment. “Donni??? Donni??” I said in a soft tone, shaking his shoulder. “Yeah..?” “Donni, I had a nightmare.” He asked what it was about, all I can REALLY remember is being back with my former. I don’t remember expressions or any conversation. I just remember us, sitting side by side in her car holding hands. He held me and rubbed my back for a moment. We cuddled for about a half hour in silence, just laying there. I had my head on his chest and I swear his heart was going so fast I wondered if he felt alright for a moment. As I laid there thinking of D/S and all the things said in her blog, I actually smiled. It was odd, I felt this wave of peace kind of cascade over me. It began from the very top of my head and poured, like water, down my entire body. She’s happy. She’s okay. Thank god.

Time came closer for Donni to get ready for work and as he was opening his drawers to gather up his boxers he began to show me his toys. Immediately noticing the collar and leash, he told me about how he also has a paddle somewhere. “Oh REALLY?” I said, eyes widening and smile stretching across my face. “Yeah. I had an ex who I used to paddle and spank when he misbehaved. I would put that collar on him, it says bitch, and make him clean the house. If he did not or did a poor job, I would let him have it. I remember he hid my paddle from me once and I took a spatula off the wall and boy did I tan that ass.” That was the most fucking Dom thing I’ve heard him say yet. I mean granted, he’s been very Dom-like during our moments together and I really wondered what about submission even appeals to him. Because he’s a fucking NATURAL Daddy and clearly has some Dom in him. He also told me about how his most recent ex used to plug him and force him to drive places down very unstable roads. If you’d have seen the plug this was done with, you’d understand why even a seasoned sub would blush. It’s NOT small. So, I’m thinking there’s some versatility going on here. But the more time we spend together, the more times we discuss how he’s always wanted a partner he could take care of, the more I feel like there’s a Daddy Dom in there somewhere waiting to be born. But he isn’t ready for that yet and I can tell. I feel this way because he is one of the most patient, kind, understanding, calm, rational, and spiritual people I’ve ever met. He has SO much potential in SO many areas in life, D/S, love, and more. I wonder why he’s been limiting himself but I also understand, I’ve been there for a long time now as well.

Here’s another reason why I’m not sure where Donni falls in D/S yet:

The weather today is very rainy and Donovan has a few herniated disks and very bad knees. This morning while we were waking up and starting our day he had stretched himself out on to the bed in order to get his muscles moving and crack his back a bit. I was mind blown by his posturing even though it was fully unintentional.

Something about him is so beautiful when he postures himself this way. I took immediate notice of that when he started doing this. The reason I am even able to share these pictures is because I was so ensnared by his posturing I demanded he allow me to take a picture or two.

It’s so interesting how one person could be such a natural and nurturing Dom but also in his own way a very natural submissive. Versatility is a beautiful thing and I’m done letting anyone in this community or outside of this community tell me otherwise.

I kissed him before I left today. It felt right. I do not regret it.

If there’s one thing I have learned during my time in D/S far is sacred cows are poisoning the well in this community.

There’s so many people from the old school of dominance and submission bemoaning the fact that the new ways are destroying the old.

I plan to do an article about this later today.

Getting back to the topic at hand here, I have come to terms with a lot today and last night.

It really does do more damage to hold on then to let go. The fact of the matter is if I were to go back to where I was before, The cycle would just repeat itself. Realizing that somebody is no good for you and you’re no good for them is very difficult especially when the reality of the situation is that what destroyed that relationship was a mental illness gone very unchecked for too long.

All though there are things she has done that leave her at fault there are also things that I have done that leave me in the same position. The damage has been done and a lot of it is very unrepairable on both sides. I’ve been reading a lot of articles lately about love and how to heal. What I continue to notice consistently in all of these articles is emphasis on when it is time to let go and why because letting go when something is no longer beneficial for you or for the person that you love is one of the most selfless and loving acts you could ever do.

I went out kicking and screaming that’s for sure. In typical Joker fashion. But what happens to the Joker when Harley leaves for Poison ivy? Or in this case, deadpool and poison ivy?

Batman saved him and he reclaims his sanity.

I’ll blog about this later.

For now, I accept the past is the past. Perhaps all along my former and I were destined to learn from each other’s madness in some way. As far is I alone am concerned, perhaps meeting her was designed to show me exactly what my mental illness is doing to my life and to the lives of other people around me or what it could very well do at its worst. I think it’s also shown me a lot of things about D/S that I learned in my relationship with Sara but somehow forgot.

And that’s a blog for another day. But I’ve also learned that you can’t expect a cishet female to understand queer culture much less understand a transperson and I, and the rest of the queer community who know her transphobic nature, thank her kindly for not trying to culturally appropriate something she’s never lived long enough or fully enough to speak on. Don’t you dare advocate for us. Trust me, we don’t want you to or need you to. So please, blog about something you’re experienced in. Not something you know nothing about nor do you respect.

There’s something to realize here. I will never date a cishet anything again. There’s a reason we normally have disdain for them, because deep down this is how they see us.

Words spoken in anger are truths we are too afraid to say otherwise.

I just take comfort in the fact that I am guilty of trying to love someone and failing miserably, guilty of not managing myself better, and guilty of rushing into a relationship that showed major signs of incompatibility from the jump.

I should have known since meeting her family that the Apple does not fall far from the tree.

Lesson learned.



Keep kissing boys in the street : How a “straight” man developed feelings for a gay man.




He never stood out to me. That doesn’t mean that there wasn’t something inherently appealing about him but I had always thought that being attracted to somebody worked a lot like fireworks. I always thought that the second you laid eyes upon them you would find yourself swept off your feet. Although in some love stories this is the case, but right now this isn’t a love story. It’s more of a story of self discovery, bonding, affection, and growth.

Donni And I went on a date about a month after I had broken up with my last partner the first time. This was exactly 2 weeks before I had met my former partner Kyle. Donni and I met in an FTM singles group on Facebook. Originally, I thought he was pretty cute so I had asked him to hang out sometime. Donni was lonely. He was struggling with the loss of a partner and we both bonded on that. We talked about our former relationships, how losing them had affected us, and how we were in a state of semi-hopelessness about finding somebody new.

I believe we hung out twice before he invited me out to dinner in Patchogue with his coworkers. We ate at the meatball place, a really nice restaurant in Patchogue by the water. I was a little disheartened when I had shown up to our date dressed in my dress shirt, tie, dress pants, shoes and pea-coat while Donni showed in a hoodie and jeans. But I still gave him a chance. We had a very good conversation and his coworkers highly approved of me. Donni had two gin and tonics, clearly a lightweight like myself because he was pretty drunk after that. He was a little bit obnoxious about it, yelling and acting all sorts of silly. I didn’t really care much for it and found it a little bit unappealing. When I finally got him home we were about to smoke a Blunt together and Donni threw up all over himself. He was mortified. I remember cleaning him up and helping him clean up his couch. I got him clothes and made sure that he was OK. Got him into the shower and after that, we said goodnight.

We didn’t speak again after that but I’m sure we would have if my former partner did not come back into the picture. Even as just friends.

Donni and I kept bare minimum contact. We didn’t hang out again after that and when I had told him that I was moving upstate he seemed very disappointed but didn’t go out of his way to make a big deal about it he wished me good luck and asked me to let him know when we would be coming back to visit.

As of recently, If I didn’t have Donovan by my side through a lot that I’ve been going through lately I don’t know if I would be as OK as I am now. Don’t get me wrong I’m still in a state of emotional turmoil. I still miss my former very very much and still find myself crying about it. But I don’t think I would be able to get through the day as easily if it wasn’t for Donovan and that scares me. It scares me because I’ve never been in a position to have any level of affection for a man. Trans or otherwise. I’ve dated a transman before, but I knew him as a woman for much longer than I did a man. So this is a little different. Donni is a man. There’s nothing about him that wavers in that department. Nothing. Everything is different. His smell, his sweat, the way he feels when he holds me, how he’s taller than me and makes me feel safer than I feel I should with someone. He’s compassionate, an empath, spiritual, thoughtful, a bit reserved, an AMAZING listener, and just a passive but firm guy. He’s also not entirely mushy, which is nice. I’m kind of spent on heavy emotions lately. I remember I sent him a song yesterday from Front Porch Step, one of my favorites and I emphasized it was a good healing song for me, to which he replied “Gay. LOL! I’m not a fan of the softer music but it’s pretty cute and sweet for a sad tune.” He often invites me over to watch movies and cuddle, last night he had a group of friends over before we went to bed and he spent more than 20 minutes massaging my shoulders and neck. “You’re so tense, man. Nobody ever give you a proper rub down or what?” I looked over my shoulder to him and smirked, “I mean, they have but it was mostly my job. You know?” He shook his head at me. “Damn.”

Donni is very average. He’s nerdy, likes video games, he enjoys reading but doesn’t often get to so his library is small. He’s not really a corporate type and doesn’t cook. The way he cleans his apartment drives me insane and he has a mini collection of animals with various ailments, a three legged dog and a cat with a back leg that doesn’t bend due to a deformity. He’s very kind and compassionate toward animals and his friends are all awkward anime nerds or stoner kids. I see so much potential in him beyond where he is now. I want him to find himself. I want to help him find himself. But I also want to be careful. For both our sakes.

I have spent the last few days at Donni’s apartment. He hasn’t pressured me for sex, hasn’t tried to kiss me or come onto me. I think the most affectionate he’s gotten so far was lacing his fingers with mine yesterday while driving home to his apartment from the diner, and this morning when I cried over my ex he held me and kissed my forehead. He told me : “It’s going to be okay, Shane. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually it’s going to be okay and it’s not going to hurt anymore.”

 I remember more than several times last night we kept waking up in the middle of the night on and off, he would kiss my shoulders and hold me close to his chest. He’d make content little growls and cuddle as close to me as he could. The alarm went off four times and he kept resetting it, telling me “Shhh. Not yet. It’s okay, Shane. Five more minutes.” 

Last night, I wanted to kiss him. But he smelled like cigarettes and weed really strongly. I made him brush his teeth in the hopes that would ease my anxiety over it, it didn’t and I never ended up kissing him. But funny enough he mentioned it this morning when he was holding me through my tears : “I knew you wanted to kiss me last night. But you’ve got some things you need to sort out about yourself, no pressure. I understand. I’m just glad you’re here with me. I think you should come over tonight again, we’ll have some chinese and a cuddle. Talk. If you want you can stay again. Just hope you’re okay with watching me do laundry first.” I sighed. I never felt so comforted. But I’m trying to weigh where this attraction lies. Is this just a bandaid? Are we just seeing each other and seeing where this goes? Maybe I’m reading too deeply too soon? Not sure. There’s something here. Not sure what but something.

I know I have feelings for Donni. I’m just not sure where they fall. I’ve spent my entire life chasing women, chasing the dream of family and marriage. After my last relationship, I’m not sure I want that anymore. I’m not even sure I want D/S anymore. I’m just…..not sure of anything. Donni completely knows this and embraces it without making me feel like I’m leading him on. We both completely understand that he and I are trying to find ourselves but in the process of that found that there’s something here. We just aren’t sure what. I find myself conflicted on my attractions at the moment, not sure where that roots and I plan to discuss this with my therapist next tuesday. I remember I thought about him a few times the other night when I slept at home and masturbated. I even grunted his name. Thought about kissing him, thought about him fucking me. It didn’t feel bad, it didn’t arouse the same feelings that it did with previous partners, I’m trying to figure out why. I don’t want to make any moves that may hurt either of us, so I’m just working on figuring out where my emotions and desires lie. I feel like a 17 year old boy who’s going through a sexual identity crisis after just joining the football team and fucking the girls on cheer squad for the last 2 years. I have no idea what’s going on with me or if I’m even sure that this is what I want. Which is why I’m thankful that Donni is so understanding and laid back.

I have been missing work again due to severe depression and stress. I’m glad my plans  for travel were cancelled, because I’d be fucked at this point. I’ve got enough damage control to do now that my parents have seen her blogs about me and are up in arms over the lies being spread. I’m trying to keep them from their usual nuthousing. “I want her parents number so they’re aware of what she’s saying.” “I want their names.” “I want their address.” No. No. No. Everyone fucking settle down. Nobody is getting anyone’s information. You can find it yourselves. If I’m going to be accused of rape that’s fine. I was already accused of attempted murder and child abuse by my former, so it’s no surprise that she’s still spreading falsehoods. That’s how she copes and how she deflects so she doesn’t have to look in the mirror. I don’t care. Let her. People who truly know me know who I am and what I’m capable of and not capable of. They also know what kind of man I become when I am abused or knocked around like I was. If you don’t want the worst of me, don’t give me the worst of you. That simple. But with women like that there’s always a reason, always an excuse, always a story, and always a plot to keep any negative spotlight off of them or justify it under the guise of being a damsel in distress and MAN do they always know how to lay on the “I loved him and what we had, but it was toxic as hell.” angles real thick.

Everyone takes pity on Harley Quinn, but they all forget she was the one in power. Some will say that Harley suffers under Stockholm Syndrome, maybe later in the relationship and certainly in some versions but in the first origin which was depicted in Mad Love. She is a villain. She is not an innocent flower. She is a serial killer that has tortured people and used her victim status to trick Batman a few times. She isn’t a victim she is a criminal who already had a questionable personality before meeting the Joker. She doesn’t love the Joker, she is obsessed with him. Having a bubbly personality and making jokes while killing people doesn’t make her a role model or someone people should aspire to be. Nor is she a character to glorify or take pity upon. Second, Harley is obsessed with Joker in an incredibly unhealthy way, I would even question if she loves him or just has a helper complex wanting to save the Joker and to a degree uses her femininity as an excuse to get sympathy (from Batman and in general) by acting as a victim while being as insane as the Joker and enjoying killing. She is actually described as “crazier than he is and more violent”. She broke the Joker out of Arkham and dawned the Harley uniform without the Joker asking her to do so. At one point, she saw batman beaten up by the Joker and decided now is her time to rise. So actually, Joker was lucky he was playing with a person who truly just needed a little push. In truth, she had some questionable morals before meeting the Joker. Before working at Arkham she had sex with her Professor to get the grade she wanted. She also was specifically interested to work at Arkham and on the Joker because she thought she would be writing a book on the insane criminal and making millions. Obviously that failed when her ego placed her right into the Joker’s trap.

But getting off of psycho-analyzing Harley Quinn and women who emulate her and back to Donni, I know things right now are weird. They’re slow going, I’m not sure where they will go or end up, I’m not sure if Donni and I will be together or even reach a point of intimacy. I know there’s a connection, it’s a good one, but it still feels foreign and a bit uneasy for me. I’m unsure if this has to do with my issues from my last relationship, hang ups about being gay or being with men, or if I’m really not as gay as I assume. I have no clue. All I know is right now, this feels right. It feels good. I feel safe. I feel happy when I’m with him. Donni has an odd effect on me. He instills a state of calm in me that I haven’t felt in some time and it’s scary.

All I know for certain is right now, I like him, I look forward to seeing him, I get excited when I see his messages. Although affection with him scares me, I literally seek him when things go wrong. I trust him, I confide in him, he’s slowly becoming a very great friend and for that I am ever appreciative. I keep listening to this song and keep thinking about what it’s like being around Donni and how he treats me. I’ve never had this level of consideration, understanding, compassion and consideration. It scares the ever loving shit out of me. It doesn’t feel natural. I want to know WHY. Because I know it’s not that I don’t like Donni, enjoy his company, or feel things when he’s affectionate with me. I know that I no longer have the same love and trust for women anymore. I simply cannot find a woman who is mentally stable enough, perhaps financially but not mentally, to make things work with a guy like me. I’m starting to feel like women just don’t have it in them and all the good ones are already taken or just not interested in a guy like me for many reasons (being trans, kinky, queer, having herpes, ect.). I get along so much better with transmen than I do women in most cases. I’m just unsure where I lie.

I do know  that lately, when I hear this song…I start to question a lot about myself. I have always been deeply rooted in gay culture. I know more about gay culture than most gay men do. I have more gay friends than you can shake two fists at (heh). I am much more active in the gay community than any other and more well known. Perhaps who I was when I first came out really is who I am at my core? Maybe I got lost in the rat race of masculinity and heteronormativity? I don’t know yet. But as I said, I know every time I hear this song…I question. Lately, it’s all I do and until I find the answers…I will continue to.


Abusive Submissives are destroying the few good Doms left: The side of D/S we never talk about because of the “Big Bad Dom” syndrome everyone likes to focus on.


“Can a Dominant be abused by a submissive?”

Subs are people. They can be cruel or coercive, just like any other person.

So as a dom, you may look at or hear this question and think to yourself : “I feel that it’s not real because I was the one with all the power in sexual situations.”

No, you clearly were not the one with all the power. If your sub was pressuring you into doing things you didn’t want to do, accusing you of rape or pushing boundaries when they consented and praised you for your performance, purposely caused themselves injury and blamed you, and used their sexuality against you or to entice other Dominants or to even persuade you to give a certain outcome, then your sub was retaining their power and indeed using their power against you.

Doms sometimes have trouble acknowledging this, because they believe they should have all the power and never give any power up. They fear that if their sub manages to exert any power over them, they must be less dominant and therefore less worthy. Remember that however domly you may be, you can’t take power that isn’t freely given. That’s what makes you a Dom rather than an abuser. And if someone tries to exert power over you, you are vulnerable. That’s what makes you a person rather than a Dombot 3000.

Now, as a D/s practitioner, you are probably sensitive to power dynamics and thoughtful about how power works. You’re out of the abusive relationship, so it’s safe to reflect on how the power flowed between you two. What strategies did your partner use to exert power over you — to take power you didn’t really want to give? Why did those strategies work? This isn’t an invitation to self-shame. Notice your vulnerabilities without judging yourself for having them. Again, you are a human being, not a robot with a flogger.

I don’t know what exactly happened between you and your sub. Here’s a theoretical example:

Sub: I miss being caned. My last Dom loved to cane me.

Dom: I’ve never really been into caning. I don’t have much practice.

Sub: Yeah, my last Dom said it takes a really tough, dedicated person to use the cane. It’s not for everyone.

The sub is playing on the Dom’s desire to be perceived as firm and competent, and on the fear of being compared and found lacking. Suddenly, the Dom worries how they’ll look if they decline to use the cane. What it would say about them. Even though the Dom isn’t comfortable with caning, they suddenly feel compelled to agree to it, to prove their worth. They have been successfully manipulated. This is also how an abusive sub opens a window to cry wolf on abuse. They will manipulate into committing “offenses” so the submissive has “ammo” to use later when he/she wishes to discredit, smear, shame, blackmail, threaten, or paint a picture of their Dominant for others in the way they wish their Dominant to be seen by manipulating them into things by playing on their emotions and insecurities. This is not only manipulation, but mental and emotional abuse. Which can have long term damages and at worst, permanent damages. Much worse than any form of physical abuse could ever begin to instill in someone.

Anyone can be manipulated. Anyone can manipulate. Don’t let D/s distract you from that. Admitting that subs can try to take your power prepares you to recognize it if it happens again, to hear the alarm bells in your head, and to get out of the situation.

The community spends a lot of time looking out for submissives and protecting them from abusive Dominants. We talk about knowing your limits and being comfortable asserting your boundaries. We talk about the danger of no-limits relationships and what a red flag it is when a Dominant talks about how “real submissives” shouldn’t need safewords but there is so little discussion of how submissive can abuse their Dominants and how the power dynamic doesn’t protect Dominants from abuse.

So a brief primer on abuse in general before I speak to the specific issue of Dominants being abused by submissives:

  • If you were pressured into doing things you didn’t want to do, that’s abusive.
  • If you felt unsafe (emotionally or physically) because of your partner, that’s abusive.
  • If your partner didn’t respect your limits and boundaries, that’s abusive.
  • If your partner uses your Dominance against you (Cries non-consent after consenting to punishments, throws their collar down out of spite, repeatedly tells you you’re a horrible Dominant because you won’t consent to things) This is abuse

There is no circumstance which mitigates abuse. Your partner having a history of being abused doesn’t negate their own abusive behavior. Your partner disagreeing with your behavior doesn’t negate their own abusive behavior. Your partner being “submissive” to you doesn’t negate their own abusive behavior.

Dominants need to establish boundaries, limits, and safe words just like submissives do. Just because you have “the power” doesn’t mean you are immune to abusive behavior. I’ve noted many times that while a D/s relationship might involve power dynamics, people are still inherently equal beings with their own agendas and agency. As much as you might profess to be devoted to your Dominant’s will and desires, you do still have your own mind.

Manipulating a Dominant into continuing a scene or dynamic that they’re not comfortable with is abusive. For example, if a Dominant really isn’t comfortable with asphyxiation and the submissive cajoles and pressures them into participating anyway, that’s not appropriate behavior even though the submissive is the one being subjected to a dangerous activity.

Making a Dominant feel guilty because they don’t want to have sex is abusive. If a Dominant really isn’t in the mood and the submissive continues to pressure the Dominant (for example, by whining and complaining about how horny they are), that’s inappropriate behavior. Equally, shaming a Dominant over their sexual preferences is also abusive behavior.

Finally, if you think you were “the one with all of the power in sexual situations or in the dynamic in general” but you feel you were being manipulated, pressured, coerced, having your authority used against you (crying wolf on abuse because you’re the Dominant and the submissive is angry a certain dynamic outcome wasn’t delivered), or abused in general?

You probably didn’t have all of the power. It’s good that you left.

I will elaborate more on this and how I feel it applied to my last D/S relationship when I have more time to absorb and process.

Reaching the end of the road on my D/S journey. Mr J finally goes back to arkham. Forever.


I think it’s fair to say that, based on my blog about when it’s time to leave the lifestyle, that for me it is indeed time.

I am not fit to be a Master nor do I want to be that anymore. With great power comes great responsibility and I am not able to handle that power properly. My patterns of behavior and BPD do not warrant me to safely dom anyone and I certainly don’t have the interest to submit anymore. I think kink has always been a more comfortable zone for me, and that may be where I choose to dabble. Occasionally being King once in a blue moon and maybe even little space. But ultimately, I’ve reached the end of my rope in this.

It’s been 15 years in this lifestyle. I’ve struggled to get things right and find my niche but in the process found myself on a power trip that exacerbated my ego issues. I had stopped being myself. Stopped being a gentleman. I just stopped everything and found myself absorbed in all the wrong mindsets and behaviors, I began to create many “sides” to myself and lost myself in a lot of those different headspaces. Nothing was consistent.

I also struggled with losing mentors of quality and being unable to fully pursue my Master trainings. Leaving me bumbling in the dark with no formal training, plenty of reading materials, but no means of hands on learning and education. I had nobody to help me when I was failing, my mental health began to worsen over time, and although it was no fault of my own due to my past relationships and living environment, I had no confidence to do much about it. I became stagnant, inconsistent, depressed, unfocused, and unstable. None of these things were complimenting me at all as a dominant much less a person.

Topple that with submissives who make a habit of lying about me out of spite, or dominants that have physically and emotionally abused me, I’ve just found myself ultimately discouraged with the lifestyle and the quality of potential partners within it. I’ve been accused of things I’ve never done, had great sex that was mutually consented to and told it was the best they’ve ever had only for them to turn and tell others it was pushed on them and they were too afraid to say no when no reason to be afraid to speak was ever present, physically assaulted, financially drained, had my life threatened, been told to kill myself, trans-bashed by my own partner, cheated on, lied to, manipulated, and unfairly painted a monster without even been asked my side of things. I’ve had former partners before my last do even worse. From gaslighting to sexual abuse, unwillingly being infected with an STV and having my career pulled out from under me due to my former partner sleeping in my car while I was at work to keep track of me.

This lifestyle has nothing to offer me anymore. I’m content with that being a reality. I have hurt others and suffered enough on my own.

However, it does bring a heavy amount of relief.

I don’t have to worry about being made to feel like everything about me sexually is so horrible, I don’t have to feel like I’m going to be screamed at over little things, I don’t have to worry about my partner concussing me and claiming that they were pushed when they know damn well they weren’t, I don’t have to worry about any drama, I don’t have to worry about my partner cheating on me, nor do I have to worry about transphobic family members making me feel unsafe and in danger.

Things are finally levelling out. I may not have everything I wanted, but I have enough. I still make decent money and I’m finally in a place where I feel at least a tiny bit more myself.

In truth, I learned the hard way that D/S does not benefit me. I’m a great Dom, but I cannot remain focused enough to be consistently great. Nor do I want the responsibility anymore just to be bastardized and have my relationships twisted against me because of partners who can’t communicate during critical moments, or because it’s easier to “get even”. I take comfort in the fact that I don’t really have to worry about strangers over the internet taking one side of things into account over the other. I’ve enough proof on my end to know what really happened to me just as much as I have proof that I was in my own ways unkind, out of control, uncaring, selfish, and unstable. But I am not the monster I was painted to be. That I also take comfort in.

I’ve been lying in Donni’s arms for two nights straight now. I’ve never felt safer. But I still miss her. We had a love story unlike any other. It was dark, it was twisted, it was something quite literally out of a Harley and joker comic. We craved it like an addict craved their fix. 

Rehab is a bitch. But it’s necessary.

Then I’m reminded of who was “serving” me.

I know the way I had to walk on my former sub was intentional on her part. I’m not as foolish as she thinks. But in all honesty, I was just as done as she was. Just as drained. Just as sick of being torn down and lied about. We battled each other so hard it was a wonder how we lasted as long as we did. She wasn’t ready for me, I wasn’t for her. We lied about one another, she’s still lying about me and spinning half truths out of one side of a two sided tale and where I could share screen shots and photos of all her wrong doings as she does mine in private, what purpose does it serve anymore? I’ve already proven to enough people that a “lady” isnt always what she portrays herself to be. Those people matter because they came to me maturely to ask for both sides of the story. Not settle on one half of a whole cow. But I just don’t want to be that guy and I’m not going to bother. If she wants to slander me to the internet, her transphobic family members, the guys who want her, or whoever in order make herself feel better, so be it. I hope she finds the circus she’s leading with a lot of her half truths and little lies she sandwiches between the tiny layers of truth she does offer worth her time. I won’t be indulging anymore.

I have done the best I could but I’ve discovered what I want more than anything is love. A real love based on quality time, honor, passion, empathy and kindness. Something that is spontaneous and not rigid in it’s routines. I want to ENJOY my relationship. Not feel like it’s a boatload of work that never gets accomplished. Regardless of reason. I also need a partner who can handle my mental illness during my healing process. Not make a monster of me for it to anyone who will listen. I still find it funny how people who supported me with my BPD now suddenly don’t because of a “lady’s” lies. But hey, what’s the loss of a few internet folks who only know a very small portion of truth? It’s not their fault they’re easily misled because a manipulative woman knows how to spin a good tale to her favor. Been there before. Everyone loves a good tale of a damsel in distress and sometimes it’s easier to play the only victim in an equation that was abusive on both sides. 

It’s always easier to play the battered and broken woman who did no wrong without being “pushed, coerced, pressured” as if they’ve no mind of their own and no ability to self advocate, yet they can assault you on multiple occassions and tell you they hope a trump supporter stabs you. In those words. Yet somehow, they are completely unable to speak for themselves so long as they aren’t throwing ceramic items or telling you how worthless you are between throwing your personal items around the house. This is often the case with men who are victims of abusive women. They are gaslighted into believing they are the problem, when really they’re the victims. Anyone on the outside looking in sees the woman in tears, they see the man as the victim who’s tears are disingenuous or fake. Never the result of real pain caused by a partner. This is why majority of male victims never report their abuse either. Because of situations like my last relationship. Why bother when you’re just going to be the bad guy anyway? 

Considering she was never formally trained on anything she claims directly, simply remotely on the internet with her Sir before me and in person with me but resisted every lesson I ever gave since I met her. She learned very little from me and it wasn’t because I was poor at my execution. I may have been a bit unfair at times, argumentative, sexually stubborn, and financially unstable. But I was ALWAYS a great Dom and I never over exaggerated my training to be taken seriously or more credible like some people.

Just make sure you ask her why she went to the emergency room. Because it wasn’t because of what I did. It was because she struggled too hard during scene and broke her own nail. Let us not forget I have the screenshots of her owning it and apologizing for not listening to me when I WARNED HER struggling like that is not safe. But I digress.

For the record, I never gave anyone reason to not speak up during sex. If you know you don’t want to sleep with me and you choose to not advocate for yourself, that’s a choice. A choice made for no real reason as I never once during a sexual scenario made it difficult for anyone to speak up. Did I find myself frustrated with how sexually limited my former was? Yes. Absolutely. Did I ever put her in a position like she claims? No. I made it clear from day one what I like and what I want, I also made it clear that I was willing to compromise, but not completely put aside every major kink of mine so my partner could feel comfortable. My needs were rarely met and I was treated like garbage for trying to advocate for myself on it. Like I asked too much, like I “pressured” folks when really, it was a matter of someone’s guilt they couldn’t deliver being too much and spinning onto resentment for me not being very willing to compromise any further. I had put enough aside for too long. I was sick of being told no to everything and everything being a huge mountain of panic to climb over. I’m not a therapist either nor am I the type of guy who likes to be sexually stifled. If I can’t fully express myself to my partner in all means, I’d rather be single. Especially if my partner is just going to act like being with me is such an awful fate. I’ve had enough being villanized and I won’t be anymore. 

Equally, I never hide my kinks from anyone and make it abundantly clear to potential partners that being with me has a risk due to the kinds of kink I prefer. Take it or leave it.

In any case, I am laying down my Master leathers and tucking away my reading materials. It’s over and I’m relieved. Relieved because at the end of all this? I won. I walked away with a lot of good experiences, lessons, and interactions among the bad. I’ve learned more about myself and how damaging I can be, I’ve learned what I need to work on, and I’ve learned how to stand for my limits and advocate for myself. Even if it costs me.

It’s been an interesting run….and that’s being polite about it. But this lifestyle isn’t for me. I will never take another sub. Not ever. Nor will I give myself to a woman ever again. I’ve had enough demonesses come into my den and attempt to kick my throne from beneath me. 

I don’t want the thing. You wenches can have it. Since you’re so desperate to be the victim with a survivor crown, you can have it.

I’m going to continue blogging about mental health, music, life, and my experiences. But other than that, I’m moving on from the lifestyle for good.

Caest La Vie
– Shane