Sexiness

All my life I’ve had difficulty with accepting my body as it is and understanding that anybody would ever want me. In my teens, boys shied away from me. In my twenties, I do okay with guys, so long as they aren’t terribly shy themselves. I am, by nature, a very sexual woman who knows how to use her body and charms for pleasure, so why don’t I usually feels sexy?

The short answer; I base my sexiness on my relationship to the person looking at me. With my ex (to whom I was engaged), there was nothing that made me feel sexy. Nothing. Now that I’m single and involved in a more casual relationship, with a man who seems to genuinely enjoy me in all possible meanings of the word, I am free to feel sexy.

The other night, while sleeping over at his house (we both have colds, so we deemed it safe to be together) I asked if I could borrow his bathrobe.  Now, bear in mind that he’s 6’ 4’’ or so, and I’m 5’ 2’’ (I like tall men). He fished his robe out of the closet for me and wrapped me up in its flannelly goodness. After pulling the sash up to where my natural waistline is, I wrapped my arms around him and told him that for some reason I felt sexy as hell wearing his robe. He sort of chuckled and I went to sit down for a moment to enjoy it.

Wearing such an over-sized robe, that I could wrap to fit my curves, felt like wearing a tremendously lavish cocktail dress. One of the leggy, split skirt ones you see in movies. It was loose around my shoulders, so it would part just a little to expose my cleavage, and the lower portion showed off just the right amount of leg. Overall, I think he agreed that I looked sexy as he pulled me close for some very deep kisses while I was wearing it.

Overall, I share a quite intimate friendship with him, and in knowing that he isn’t judging my appearance at any time I feel sexy. In terms of my relationship with myself… I find my shoes sexy.

I know, it’s weird on a strange level. And one of these days I’m going to do a post about my favorite shoes and why they’re so important to me. Not one of these pairs of shoes looks nice anymore, because being my favorite means being worn every day until they’ve torn or start making strange noises (seriously, my flats squeak when I walk).

Either way, it’s good to know and remember that there are times when I feel sexy and beautiful. And it’s amazing to have someone who brings that out in me, and lets me feel so free to be myself.

Observations of ChatRoulette

As a woman, I have the unique opportunity to be exposed to all sorts of shenanigans on ChatRoulette due simply to the fact that men (the primary demographic on CR) are willing to stop and try to keep my attention. So here are a few things I've noticed on CR, but first a disclaimer (you know it's bad when I have to disclaim things): This has nothing to do with race. I've made a chart of each country/demographic that comes up frequently and logged the content of the conversation, if there is one, as well as how long it takes me to press "next." So, here goes:
1. Everyone in Turkey and Serbia is naked and wants to masturbate.
I'm dead serious here. I've not found a SINGLE male from Serbia or Turkey who is willing to talk. And they are all naked, often with their webcam tilted down to their torso or their genitals. If I ask that they not do that, they call me ugly and press next. It's like I'm getting the same person all the time, except that I find all different body types. Maybe it was just a bad night.
2. The English love to do cutesy things and dance. And wear masks.
Overall, they were the most pleasant to talk to, regardless of age. The older men were somewhat unkempt, often divorced, but affectionate and kind. The younger guys would often show up in pairs, dancing or wearing masks (often the infamous Guy Fawkes mask, though I did catch totheark at one point). Some guys would use the drawing function to draw cute little characters or write nice messages.

3. Germans are all pierced/tattooed or like heavy metal.
I only stopped a few times on German men. While I found the majority of them attractive, they all either had loud music on or seemed busy. In my experience, it's a bad idea to ask a man to turn down/off his music. Tattoos, nose piercings, and nipple piercings were a common trend.
4. The French are indifferent to all things and never smile.
More beautiful men who I wasn't inclined to stay long in talking to. While they weren't looking for a camshow,  they definitely had their downsides. The first of which being that constant nonchalant "look at me, I'm leaning on something" pose, and the ever present look of boredom. They were not particularly talkative, nor expressive in any fashion. I suppose that cool, aloof demeanor is stereotypically French, though.
5. Italians all oil their hair.
Why? They all had beautiful hair... but they had to go and put goo in it. Why is "greasy" a popular look? I had a lot of questions for the Italians, but when they weren't brooding or propositioning me for a camshow the were pressing next or showing me body parts I didn't want to see.

What have I learned?
Being on ChatRoulette at 1am is like going into a porno theatre and expecting to meet a decent guy. This isn't a complete list of my observations for the night, and there may be future posts on other trends I notice. I didn't wish to comment on the underage users of the site, as I didn't stop to talk to any of them. For some reason, children scare me. And now, so do naked strangers.

A Statement of No Mission

Every blog I’ve ever started has had a mission statement. This one will, but at the same time it won’t. I’m not going into this with a specific purpose in mind, just a place to write.

A lot of people insist that I should write. Some even go so far as to say that I need to write. I disagree. But here I am, writing. Well, listening to music too, but mostly writing.

So, I suppose I should introduce myself.

I’m Cait. I currently work a temporary job in the Land of Papercuts.  When I’m not working I’m trying to fix myself, improve myself, and create things. Or forget that I exist. I spend way too much time sleeping, not enough time reading, too much time looking, and not enough time doing.

Most anyone who knows me could call me callous and difficult, and not always good at showing emotion. From my own perspective, I have a hard time shutting off emotion and hiding it. I have a hard time trusting, and a hard time sharing. So a blog is therapy of sorts. I trust strangers more than people I’ve met sometimes.

I suppose it’s a bit dysfunctional that I’d rather share with strangers than people I know. That’s okay, I’ve never quite been normal. I don’t think life would be so much fun if I were normal. There would be parties and drinking, not quiet nights with books and movies. I’m not much of a party animal. My definition of an awesome party falls into one of two categories: (1) A few close friends, booze, a Doctor Who marathon, and cuddling, (2) My dad’s side of the family all in one place.

Meanwhile, I really do try to function in society, but that’s hard when you have no real skills or education to speak of. I can type like a maniac and whip out a decent essay in about 30 minutes, and I’ve got decent telephone skills, but everyone wants two or more years of experience for secretarial or data entry work.

I don’t feel like I could thrive in that sort of environment anyway. The Land of Papercuts, after all. I don’t see why it’s so difficult to make everything digital these days. Especially the work I’ve been doing, that should’ve been digital from day one.

Oh well, on with the blog.