Monthly Archives: August 2003

Last week I had my first experience with BDSM (for those of you unfamiliar with the seedier side of the sexual underworld but too lazy to click on the link, this stands for bondage & discipline/sadomasochism). Since, as I’ve mentioned many times, I enjoy being told what to do in bed, it made sense to follow that preference to the logical extreme.

When the relevant part of the encounter—which I quite enjoyed, though I don’t think I’ll be pursuing this as a lifestyle choice—was over, my partner removed my blindfold and I saw that the room I was in was filled almost to overflowing with Star Wars paraphernalia.

There was a poster on the door saying “Welcome to Coruscant!”

All I could think was, I wonder whether he spent more on the leather with which he tied me up or on the Star Wars figures.

Except of course I knew the answer.

There is a God.

I found out today he is a bottom.

The anaerobic physicist, that is. Not God. God may or may not be a bottom, but I’m not so interested in him.

I want to sing and dance around with joy, but I’m too exhausted from the relief of it all. Because of course if he’s a bottom then it never would have worked anyway, and I can just forget about the whole thing and move on.

I’m sorry not to be more amusing about the whole thing. I’m just so damned thankful that I can’t think clearly.