Since I taught a class on Tact and Diplomacy and yadda yadda and talked about shit like “gracious communication” and using “I feel” and “I think” statements, I sure as hell better practice what I preach.
Or at least give it my best fucking shot.
I was proud that, despite the occasional disappointment, fleeting moment of excruciating discomfort, and shrieking cliffs of self-doubt, I did manage to get through a 3 day event without a total nervous breakdown.
LOTS of that was due to the kick ass Twitterfolk with whom I met up at the event. I’d met a few of them last month in NY, and hooked up with even more Tweeterz at Dark Odyssey. I can’t say enough abut the benefit of having online friends with whom you can meet-up at these events.
The smoothness of the weekend is also due to the stellar job of organizing executed by the Dark Odyssey team.
I have been to a few perv conventions. And for an event of this scope to have had no major issues, for the attitude to be smooth and relaxed, for there to be so many presenters and so many guests, and for the small fires that did come up to have been resolved with such grace is stunning.
To the faces of Dark Odyssey, Tristan, Colten, Karri and Greg, I say
Holy fucking shit y’all kicked ALL kinds of ass!!
And a thanks to the dozens of volunteers who gave of themselves and their time. You rocked the mike.
Both of my classes were, I felt, well-attended considering they weren’t showy technique shindigs.
The promotional mixer I hosted on Saturday night went well too, and for that I am grateful.
I was especially delighted to see a crowd that was far more diverse than most BDSM events I attend. At one point, while in a cluster of folks chatting I noted that we’d reached historically illegal levels of Negrosity…so I immediately busted out and played my RACE cards. I was sure to share them with all the People of Color present. They came in handy later as well, with a kinkster of Jewish extraction. So watch out, people! Fuck around and you might find that friendly neighborhood minority playing a RACE card on ya. BOOYACHAKA!
Traveling solo and being single, I had little thought that I might have the opportunity to play or participate in a scene over the weekend.
But I’m foolishly optimistic, and so I had some hope that I might happen upon just the right situation and wind up playing.
On the first night I did receive a solicitation…from a slightly tipsy submissive man.
Not quite my speed, but he was very nice and totally a hoot! I’ll even forgive him for expressing his “disappointment” about the fact I wasn’t a dominant.
I get that so often I can’t even bother to be unsettled by the potential / implied lack of respect for my me-ness in that kind of attitude.
And frankly, there is no way he could know that is a nagging sticking place of mine and that I will, now and again, Â late at night squeeze my eyes shut real right and thump my heels together three times whispering “There’ s No Space Like Domme… There’ s No Space Like Domme…There’ s No Space Like Domme…” wondering if maybe, just maybe, if I wish hard enough…I’ll wake up in the morning with a thirst to have obedience poured across my lips like so much honeyed mead on the tongue of a Egyptian queen with a flinty gaze sparking from her kohl-rimmed smoky topaz-eyes… like so many rivulets of blood rushing over the burning feet of Kali as she devours her victims, willing or un…
But alas, I always seem to wake up and am, once again, a solo submissive, slaving away, schlepping kitteh poop, working all day to being home the Science Diet Senior to two four legged furry feline switches.
But Sunday morning…ah. Delight.
I was a little excited.
Long day and long story short, it was much later in the evening when, showered, stretched out, warmed up and ready to go I flitted downstairs to the main Dungeon space to track down and get busy with the play-partner with whom I was very excited to scene.
Alas, even from across the Dungeon I immediately sensedÂ that tonight was not gonna be the night.
It wasn’t surprising that he was tired: Â it had been a long day.Â And of course I wasÂ am glad to have been asked, and there will, hopefully soon, be another opportunity for usÂ to play in the future.
So “Mature Mollena” was smiling, being all calm and Zen, and understanding that hey, shit happens, and at least I had an afternoon of sweet anticipation. That is cool!
However “InnerÂ Child Â Mo” wasn’t at all serene and was jiving more like this now infamous chick…
I was bummed out.Â Feeling disinclined to watch other people having the kind of fun I wanted to have, I was about to swiftly depart the Dungeon to hide in my room once more.
Just as I was grinding my teeth together in the middle of that external vs. internal split, I noted a gal who’d been in one of my classes standing several feet away, expectantly, but respectful of the several conversations in which I was engaged. I started chatting with her and wow was I glad I did.
It was stunning how, just as I was about to be a piteous poutygurl, I received the most precious gift of all: one person telling me that she was moved and changed by what I had to say in my class.
I had a catch in my throat because, I mean, holy shit. Seriously?
How beautiful that on the heels of nipping nipping nipping at at the blue-grey Eeyore-esque ass of self-pity was this bright-eyed lovely girl who shared with me the best feedback of all: I made a difference.
If I flew across the country for just that, Dayenu.