Choking on “Shoulds.”

One of the Happier Discoveries I made about being a pervert is that lots of the idiosyncrasies, pathologies, fetishes and freakish desires that many people frown upon in the General Public are not only just fine by pervs, but are actively encouraged.

You Like to boss people around? Great! Find yourself a pliant submissive and knock yerself out!

You wanna be degraded and heaped in abuse and scorn? AWESOME. Get yourself at the feet of a skilled top and you can rootle like the pig you are to your heart’s content.

But it is a continuous process, for me, accepting myself.

I have yet to run across a fetish or a play-style that I absolutely cannot fathom. 

I understand why people wish to pretend to be children.

I can see why scatological play fascinates people.

I absolutely grok furries.

I have no trouble at all embodying the desire to hurt, be hurt, to hit some dude in the grapes with a ball-peen hammer.

And I can view these things with compassion.

Except in one notable case.

And that is me.

See, I need a boss. A Daddy.  A Platoon Leader for my Army of One.

I need guidance, encouragement, a cheerleader, a parental figure.

Someone who will put my picture up on the refrigerator and call me in the middle of the day to tell me how proud they are.

And I see this as a fatal weakness. A character flaw.

I SHOULD be self-motivated. I SHOULD be able to be a “Self-Starter.”  I SHOULD be able to motivate myself to do for myself by myself. I SHOULD not need someone to pull me along by the nose, sometimes kicking and screaming, toward what I need.  I SHOULD keep my room tidy because that is what Good Girls Do.

That’s a whole shitload of shoulds.

The drawback to functioning so well under the measured guidance of a Boss is that the absence of said boss leaves one at loose ends sometimes.

Now, sometimes I do get motivated.  I was quite proud of myself last Friday when I took much-needed time off of work, wrestled the Mighty Kaiser Permanente, asked for help by way of borrowing a friend’s car,  saw 2 doctors for 2 different issues,  got my Flu AND Pneumonia vaccines, had my scrips filled, fucked shit up at Target,  did my shopping, hauled my loot home and up; the the 3rd floor all by myself, went to dinner for delicious matzoh ball soup,  and got back to bed in one piece.

On Friday, I had my Big Girl Panties on.

But it fucking stung to want nothing more at the end of the day to have that acknowledged by someone who was present and loving. 

The thing about being in service to someone is that it takes you out of your “You-centric”  headspace and puts you into a mindset of gleaning joy from the service to another. 

And I love that, and I get that.

And I miss that. And it is an unshakable seismic ache, sometimes.

That’s all.



I have no pithy clever wrap-up tonight.

Just me, wondering why I’m built in this strange way.

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  1. DanteG on March 2, 2009 at 8:27 AM


    It’s human nature to want an “attagirl” after a day of clearing out the crap. It means something when it comes from someone you respect and about whom you care. It may be linked to your “scenish” impulses, but anyone/everyone likes to be acknowledged for work well done.

    On behalf of the world whom you don’t know, but have come to know a little bit of you through your postings … “”attagirl.” ( if you prefer, “attawoma” or “attaperson.”)

    • mollena on March 9, 2009 at 11:10 AM


      See, this is the best reason to be vulnerable.

      You get seen by someone who gives a shit and tells you so.

      Thank you, DanteG, for that. It is a blessing and an honor.



  2. Eliot on March 2, 2009 at 2:27 PM

    I love hearing “good girl” when I’ve pleased someone. I’ve enjoyed pleasing others and doing things for them since I was a little girl. Making someone else proud is huge for me. One of the main reasons why is because I’m unfairly hard on myself. I’ve lived with self-loathing for many years. I’m the last person to give me a pat on the back or to admit that I did something well. So, it means a lot when someone tells me I’ve done something well. However, I don’t like people who blow sunshine up other people’s asses. Any compliments for me had better be sincere. If someone is willing to compliment me when I’ve done well, then they had better be willing to also tell me when I’ve done badly (as long as it’s fair and true). Otherwise I most likely will not believe their compliments.

    • mollena on March 9, 2009 at 11:09 AM

      Supportive truthfulness, compassionate interaction….that is the shit right there.

      I hear you on wanting and needing that form a partner, and i also get not wanting to feel as though it is a bullshit response. As a fellow self-harshing-human, I know I need to trust that the person with whom I’m interacting isn’t being manipulative…stroking and patting me merely to get out of me what they want.

      Not digging that feeling, not much at all.




  3. Whit on April 8, 2009 at 7:48 AM

    Agree with the core of the post. There is one kink I can’t understand, though. Crushing.

    Pedophilia + beastiality + snuff + foot fetish is just too much for me to wrap my head around, I guess.