IN WHICH SHE STEPS INTO VIEW

Let me start off by saying that I can now be a lot more open and vulnerable with my writing because my entries aren’t being proof-read by J anymore. He didn’t like me sharing intimate details, which I found difficult to do because I don’t really keep these blogs for an audience, I keep them to sort out my thoughts and feelings. I like being able to be totally honest here

So, now that J is more or less out of the picture, there was, of course, the ‘still be friends’ discussion, but I can’t really see that happening… I thought perhaps some back ground might be a little helpful.

Who Am I?

I know all about labels and their inaccuracy, and I don’t get caught up in them, but I find that they do give people a starting point when they are trying to get to know you.

I’m a 35 years old woman who identifies herself as being queer, and has for as long as she knew what the definition of queer was.

I call myself a lesbian, dyke, queer, and various other things but at times I find myself wondering about the accuracy of my self view.

I spent a long time on the Dominant side of the BDSM fence, and now find myself well put on the submissive side, so much so that I find I have a lot of slave like tendencies rather than submissive ones. I am very interested in the Daddydom/babygirl aspect of the lifestyle, I know that comes as a shocking surprise when you consider the title of my blog and my ID.

I am in a long term, but open (within certain boundaries) relationship with a bisexual woman who is two years my younger, sexy, intelligent, humorous and occasionally so frustrating that I could spank the arse off her. And have done. We rent a lovely house in regional NSW and share it with our 2 dogs, 3 cats and 3 ferrets. All we need is one more dog and one more lesbian and we’d have balanced numbers.

I paint, write, draw and am slowly learning to enjoy gardening. Our house has fruit trees in the back yard and I have discovered there is an amazing difference between the taste of freshly picked and sun warm fruit and what you can buy in the supermarket.

I am pierced, inked, shaved and dyed; and as someone at work keenly observed, I am trying to look different.

I work as a nurse, which I enjoy immensely except when you bring hospital and Area Health Service politics into the picture. Occasionally I get fed up with nursing and state that I wish I was a florist, but I don’t really. Really I wish I was a musician. Or an author. Or a stay-at-home mother. Perhaps a pilot. It depends on what day it is.

I am addicted and addictive.

A devout heretic and deliciously destructive.

I am the most truthful liar that you will ever meet.

Now watch as I get to be myself again.

IN WHICH DADDY'S GIRL FEELS DISHONEST

I felt dishonest.

There was nothing intimate between A and I, although there had been a long while ago. We were close friends and had discussed things thoroughly, with us both deciding that there was no option for us to be anything more than friends. However, for some reason I still felt as though I was lying by omission having not told A about Daddy.

I explained this to Daddy and told him that I didn’t feel that I could really call him my Daddy honestly until I had talked to A about it all.

His answer was to tell me that he understood.

I really wasn’t expecting that.