Predators in Direct and Private Messages

Yesterday I tweeted this:

So this is pretty f’d up. Everytime I post something emotional or show I’m vulnerable or struggling my DM’s explode with sliders. Men…stop fucking doing this! Your dick doesn’t look more appealing to me when I’m crying! And it’s not an invitation to get off on my sadness! by K_ghislaine

And I am astounded by the response I received from it.  In fact, I have to say that this has been my most influential post to date, far exceeding the occasional cleavage or sexy picture.  And that tells me that this topic requires more discussion.  Especially after I received a message from a guy who was genuinely shocked I posted this, and asked what men are even allowed to do or say in this #metoo charged environment.  He honestly felt that no interaction was safe anymore and was feeling stifled by the recent changes in response from women.

Ok, let’s talk about this.  9 or so years ago, I was seduced by a private message.  And it was so hot!  Within a few hours of the initial message, this guy was on my doorstep for what was to become a very regular and incredible booty call buddy.  He opened with a sexy tease, I responded in kind, and the flirtation ramped up exceedingly quickly.  He was the first guy who randomly messaged me and was in my bed that day.  Totally success case, and an inspiration to men everywhere right?  But here’s the thing, that’s not the whole story.  There were a few key things that occurred prior to this message that ensured its success for the both of us.

First, we were already friends.  Yup, that whole friendzone thing is bullshit in my opinion and maybe I will touch on that in a future post.  For now though, we had established a bit of a rapport and some trust.  To be clear, we had never flirted previously, we were truly, just friends.  Second thing that happened, I posted online that I was lonely and looking to have a little fun.  Yes, that’s right, I playfully put my intentions out there, I opened the door to have someone on my friends list message me, and take the bait.  I gave consent and permission to be flirted with using my words.  I used more than just a sexy picture (are you seeing a pattern forming yet?).  And thirdly, he was a emotionally stable and mature man, who was playful and listened to all my boundaries without any push-back or manipulation.  It was a fully consensual pairing that turned into something incredibly hot and satisfying.  And looking back, this was actually more like a 1 in 100 success rate for me, perhaps even closer to 1 in 1000.

With that story in mind, let’s get back to my tweet that started this post.  I have been struggling as of late with where I want my future career to take me.  And it sometimes feels good to just vent a little, especially on twitter because I really appreciate all the people that I interact with, and their perspectives.  I feel better just putting some words out into the universe.  It helps focus me, and well, it’s why I blog.  So on Sunday, I did just that, I wrote a little tweet stating that I was having a rough time, and I was hopeful that Monday would be better.  And publicly, there was a lot of love.  But privately, some men showed their disturbing colours.  And it sucked having my vulnerability preyed on like that.  And I do not want to mince words here, what those two men specifically did was predatory.  Offering me a kind ear, getting me smiling and then rapidly ramping up their sexual intentions without any warning or any previous DM history.  And I, like so many women who responded to my tweet were outraged.  Doing that, is NOT OK.

And guess what?  We as past victims, are onto you.  We are onto you all!  Being empathetic or sympathetic does not give you the right to proceed with your ulterior motives.  That is not consent on our parts, and we are tired of feeling weak for showing our emotional vulnerabilities and getting sexually propositioned as a result.  If I want sexual interaction I will ask for it.  And crying is not asking for it by any insane stretch of the imagination.

That being said, let me get back to the guys concern that he no longer knows how to treat women. To that, I say good.  Stop what you’ve always done in the past, and listen to the women you approach.  Watch their body language, listen to their words and ask for feedback.  Do better as a whole.  If you have always had positive “hell yes I want to sleep with you” or “OMG I love when you touch me” then guess what, what you’re doing is most likely amazing.  But, if you have ever felt a lukewarm reception to your advances, or heard the word no, or even just uncertainty, it’s time to stop and check yourself.  And as I am completely honest, I will fully admit that when I was younger, I never asked permission to touch men or women.  I lived by the assumption that every person I touched would be flattered that a decent looking female was touching them.  But you know what?  I grew up.  I realized that I preferred a fully consensual yes you absolutely can touch me, to the initial shocked and often uncomfortable looks I would get in my early 20’s.  It’s hotter for me not having uncertainty in interaction.  I can be so much more intimate and intense that way.  And guess what?  You can too!

In summary, the jig is up.  We see what you’re doing and do not like it.  The guys who are successful have a backstory that you don’t see.  Approaching a person who is vulnerable with your ulterior motives needs to stop.  And if you’ve ever become turned on by helping someone, or having a girl cry on your shoulder, keep it to yourself.  Show self control and DO NOT try and act on it.  It is not the time, nor the place.  Instead, build up a friendship.  Get to know a wide variety of people in and out of your comfort zone.  Listen, read a book or a blog and get interesting.  Only predators go after people who are weak and vulnerable.  It’s time to break that cycle!

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The Ice Queen and Finding Peace

When I was a young girl some not so lovely people started referring to me as the Ice Queen.  It was a nickname born out of my outward coldness and reserved nature.  In short, I built a wall around myself, as many children from broken homes do and I gave off a vibe of isolation and an emotionless demeanor.  This is a persona that haunted me well into my early 20’s.  At the time, I chose to embrace this being, this ice queen.  I used the cold, and calculating comfort that this identity provided me to explain my lack of tears, and my almost holier than thou attitude.  I didn’t have time for foolish games, my young self would decree, I was a queen, and nothing could penetrate my icy heart. Whenever I was feeling down or lonely, I could snap into this character and find a calm sense of power and control.  Queen’s don’t cry, especially in front of the plebs (I lament that I only learned that word recently and never actually got the chance to use it on the playground!).

So why now, when I am the happiest I have ever been in my life, does this painful memory pop into my head?  Because as it turns out, this is my default when something unexpectedly painful arises in my life.  I go into cold, survival mode, and nothing can get in.  My defense mechanism is my Ice Queen identity.

I found out a few days ago that one of my great aunts passed away, quite suddenly.  And while that in of itself is painful, it is not what triggered me.  The catalyst was in fact the text message from my mom, the person I had not had any communication with in more than 4 years.  I cried for my aunt, and my grieving grandparents.  But then, the well of tears just dried right up.  There was a cold, protective shield that went up in light of the message from her.  It was like reading a message from a complete stranger.  You quickly scan, glean the information and then process the information at face value.  It was like she was a messenger pigeon and not the person who helped give me life.

I felt confused.  Really, seriously out of sorts.  How was it possible that this person had become a complete stranger to me?  Is this what happens to normal people when they have a falling out?  Do they just become acquaintances or less?  And what’s more, was I guilty that this had happened?  What was my next move, if any?

And then, just as quickly as my brain started to wind up, it calmed (with the help of my sister of course).  The wave of uncertainty was replaced by something wondrous.  Something I didn’t know was even possible.  It was peace.  Simple, calm, elegant peace.  I’m left knowing that there is no right or wrong, or regret or lament, or really anything else.  I made a decision that brought me peace and comfort.  And the ability to live my life to the fullest, without an anchor judging, shaming or holding me back in any way.  I am free.  I am also grateful, to the Ice Queen inside of me.  I recognize now, that in the face of uncertainty she will be there, she will not let me fall apart.  She will keep me whole in the face of adversity.  I can count on her years of strength and support when I could very easily be overcome with emotion and lose control.  The fear, that used to give me pause, is gone.  And while I am grateful for the calm reminder that the Ice Queen will always be a part of me, I am hopeful that I will not have to rely on her for many years to come.

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Embracing My Sex Appeal

I have a certain look, a dancers walk, a sex appeal, and a quiet confidence.  These are things I fought for a long time to accept as a part of me and in fact spent a great deal of time fighting.  In my youth, I yearned for people to respect me because of my intelligence, my wit, and what I rationalized as real substance versus the superficial that I couldn’t control.  I never wore make up, only dressed up for special occasions and aside from having a stellar shoe collection, I’m still just a jeans, flip flop and hoodie type of gal.  I like being comfortable, understated and I could go on and on about just how much thought went into ensuring I consistently look and feel low maintenance.

Not using my looks or demeanor was always re-enforced with my friendships with both men and women.  I really wanted to downplay being seen as a threat to keep the girlfriends from taking my male friends away.  Or getting jealous that I was included in guys nights.  If you’re a regular reader, you will know this is an ancient problem as I am no longer one of the guys.  And with the women, I didn’t want to constantly talk about how cute I looked or how well I wore such and such an outfit.  It made me feel like they were constantly comparing themselves to me, and I never wanted anyone to feel bad around me.

I fought my sex appeal for well over a decade.  I buried my femininity as best I could.  Being just “one of the guys”, or assuming I was on equal footing with my peers, these were all aspects I embraced about myself.  I downplayed the visual cues I have little control over to be taken seriously.  I’m sure a large part stemmed from hearing time and time again that the men in my family really wanted me to be a boy.  As the first grandchild, I was born to be a leader, to go off the beaten path and create a new life, and new identity.  This was drilled into me, and celebrated whenever I showed positive direction away from the norm.  I got people thinking, to see new perspective.  But I did it without the aid of my face, boobs, or thin figure.  In essence, what I did was make things harder for myself, a lesson I have recently discovered.

Now I find myself coming to terms with the fact that using my looks to get my foot in the door, to open someone up to conversation or simply to give a warm smile that makes someone else feel good is more of the person that I want to be.  I am starting to embrace a new norm, a new, and much more whole identity.  And that is not without its own set of bumps.  Why?  Because I have now had to work on learning the balance game between flirting to get something and going too far with sex appeal without the comfort blanket of being young and dumb (so to speak).  And it’s a game that has been difficult to teach myself and know where I actually want to take it.  To embrace a whole identity that includes my outsides, in a meaningful, and ethical way.

So here I sit, finding balance between sex appeal, and an articulate, whole woman with a mission to educate and teach others.  Understanding that sexy can exist without dismissing intelligence outright. It’s no longer my burden to worry about how other people perceive me.  Instead it’s my prerogative to be complete, whole, and amazing both inside and out.

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Swing Club Ice Breakers: The Censor Bar Costumes!


That nervous excitement of wearing what you dare, and we do dare, to bare it all… almost.  The costume idea came to me months ago.  Could we really show up to a swingers party wearing nothing but censor bars covering our bits?  A combination of loving to dress up, understanding the amazing power of the costume ice breaker and being comfortable naked created the perfect trilogy of traits to bring this, over a few beers, costume to life.
As I mentioned in my last post, I was feeling a devilish excitement with regards to this risqué costume, and as we went into full arts and crafts mode to bring the idea to life, there were flashes of nerves popping up here and there, but overall we were excited.  We kept asking each other as we created each piece, “are you ok with this there?” and “will this be easy enough to take off?”.  Courtesy checks and dismissing of previous comfort levels abounded as we cut out cardboard and test fit string, there was no room for our normal comfort zones with these strategically placed bars.  And then came the sexiness test, which is one of the most fun aspects of arts and crafts time.  Does the costume actually get the blood pumping?  A few glorious yesses later and we were ready to depart.
The swing party house that we attend is set in such a way that you can really make an entrance.  Once you put down your coat and such, you go down a staircase that feels almost like a grand ballroom foyer, where by the majority of the guests stand to the right mingling, and facing the staircase.  Being in that space is the perfect people watching location, and with drink in hand, you can meet, mingle, and see all the new faces make their couples nervous entrance.  And that is just what we did, wearing nothing but our bars, we took a deep breath and started down the stairs, in the daylight (The joys of it being light out at 9PM)!
The first few steps were tough, but before we were even halfway down, the excited and very interested exclamations of the group below started to reach our ears.  And all nervousness was replaced by beaming pride.  We did it, we were brave, we bared it all, and the guests loved it!  This costume was the perfect combination of sexy, and ice breaker.  All the guests wanted to know the mystery behind how E kept his bar on (any guesses?).  And many people were delighted to find that my “bra” could be flipped up for easy access.  Meeting new friends, and socializing is such a breeze when your costumes make all the introductions for you.  “Hi, we are K and E, and we are exhibitionists who are confident, fun and sexy!”  And you know, after that party, any trace of fake it until you make it, that I may have had is gone.
We took the irony of censoring nudity at a swingers party and created a costume that encouraged the rapid dropping of clothes and a very hot, half nude dance party.  Which got the blood pumping for almost all the couples to sneak away for their sought after fun quite early on  Your flaws just don’t seem to matter at that point.  You forget everything at the door, all societal norms those nagging restrictions and you can just be who you are in all your sexy, raw glory.  For being relatively new to the lifestyle, I have no feelings of being an outsider or have hesitations as to what is permissible, we are just having fun, living in the moment, free.  So, thank you to the ladies that let it all hang out at the previous parties.  You gave me the complete confidence to push the envelope myself.  It was amazing, I love it, and I am not sure I can ever go back.  I am no longer censored.

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Today I Cried…


Today I cried.  To be absolutely clear, I sobbed.  I broke down, alone, isolated with the weight of the world on my shoulders.  I screamed out, “why will I never be good enough?”.  And I covered my face with a pillow as I just let everything I had out.  It lasted perhaps 2 minutes.  My dog rushed over the second my face was visible and he snuggled.  He let me just cuddle and hold him for a few desperately needed moments.  And I got up.  I brewed some tea and I just existed for a moment.  Then I sighed and recognized that my life is moving in a direction that I can control.  And I have a partner, and I am not alone.  But today, on the couch I felt like I was.  I lost it. 
My last few posts have had a clear direction, a voice, and a reason for being written.  My confident personality has shone through and I have grown the K-Ghislaine brand into something I am incredibly proud of.  I started this blog to help me come to terms with Open Relationships and to start questioning the societal norms of relationships that are around me.  But this morning, I had troubles overcoming my shortcomings and focusing on the task at hand.  Today I failed me, in a way that actually scared me.  I wondered if I was making the correct choices, and if the business I am working on will succeed.  I questioned if I should keep writing, and I questioned if I had the right people in my life, on my team and just generally with me.  It was the briefest moment of rock bottom, but my lungs hurt from the sob and I felt so drained as a result, and of questioning that resolve that has kept me moving forward after the most recent of my life challenges this past December.
As I closed the door on the last toxic member of my family last year (or rather had the door slammed in my face) I found a relief or release as it were.  I now count the blessings of that event.  I am grateful that he cut me out, so I could be free from the toxic lifestyle that was consuming me and poisoning the rest of my life.  Aside from this morning of course, I do control my actions.  I don’t blame who I am on my parents or the hardships that are a part of my past.  The doors are closed, and I have found peace of mind to excel in my life without any of their shortcomings impacting me.
I find myself in a period of transition again.  Embarking on a journey that has high risks for my relationship and my financial security.  But it is in these risks that I am finding my stride.  I am discovering things about myself that were laying dormant.  With each word I type, I feel better.  Stronger and more focused to take on today’s task at hand.  I blog because I love it.  I absolutely adore the clarity I get from it, and the relief that it brings when I press publish.  I am an artist and writing is my preferred medium.  I forgive myself for losing control this morning.  My body needed the release and my soul needed to write.  With these two tasks completed it is time to conquer my next challenge and quiet that little voice that sometimes bubbles over, the voice that wonders why it cannot be just a little easier. 
To lose control is not something I am proud of.  But to err is human.  And the most important thing for me, is to recognize why I lost control and learn from it.  To listen to myself, and my inner voice when it calls out.  There is a strength to be found in weakness, and today I got caught ignoring my needs.