Warning: this is a ramble.
I was thinking about my toy collection today. I ordered something new and have no idea when it is coming in. It led me down a path of memories. I was thinking about how when someone has asked me to bring a toy, they had better be specific. I have all sorts. Some never get used, and I am kind of sad about that, but they are impact toys, and I don’t want that from just anyone. I can also just use wooden spoons on myself or clothespins, as some like to see.
This brought up a memory. I certain specific memory from years ago. I had someone reach out to me on Fet who was a photographer starting out. They didn’t have much of a portfolio, and they noticed the lack of professional photos on my profile. (I am into just using my iPhone camera and very few props. Just different angles and sometimes toys.)
We met for dinner to talk about maybe doing a photoshoot so I could get pics to post and he could get a positive review and something for his portfolio. Seemed like a win-win for me at the time. We talked a bit about what that would be like, and he gushed over my looks (I should have known something was off right then).
He asked me to bring toys along. This is where there was a communication breakdown. He really didn’t share his vision enough, and I didn’t ask good questions. (sad really, that is one of the things I teach my undergrads.)
When you ask me what toys to bring, you’d better be specific. But the whole situation just got worse from there. I brought my flogger and a vibrator. In bringing those, I agreed to use them, but as he was posing me, he decided he was really into making me wet, which I wasn’t at the time. I have to really like you to get there, and then I truly get there.
And then, without much preamble, questions, or talk of intent, his finger was inside me. Completely freaked out. He had started to ask to put water on me to make it appear wet, but he should have had a clue; I was not into him, because it had to be manufactured.
I was younger. I had no idea how to get out of the situation, but that is what I did. Calmly said let’s move on to something else and finished the shoot. But when I finally got out of the place, I decided that he would not be using my photos, and I explained what went wrong, then blocked him. I don’t care if he thought I looked like Dianne Lane.
I can’t say that I am much better at this. I see my patterns, but I have learned, asked questions, and I tend to only play with people I trust, who I know will either not cross the line, or I don’t mind if they do. I have learned that I am kind of into that with the right person. But I always wait to get there with someone. Long conversations about fantasies and role-playing are my jam.
Lisa Gray 