Oct 132008

In my marriage I was not what you could call remotely sexually happy. My ex-wife and I had incompatibility issues that arose shortly after we got married. This is what happens when you marry at 19. I started writing mostly as a way to express myself sexually in a guilt free environment. I wrote my dreams, my fantasies and most importantly, I wrote about sex the way I wanted it to be, not the way it was.

What started as self therapy became a hobby I really enjoyed. Sex as a topic is rarely handled well in fiction. A majority of erotica stories that are written feel incredibly shallow to me, while the other end of the spectrum are stories that have sex but the real focus is some sort of disgust with the sex. I think sex can be fun, intelligent and arousing, and I love writing it that way.

A few years into our marriage, my ex-wife suggested we try polyamory and get our own partners. I suspect she suggested it because she was bisexual, although some days I suspect she suggested it because it took the pressure off of her to have sex with me. Regardless of the motives, it put me in perpetual dating head space for a good ten years. I was already writing and my fan mail was giving me a swollen head to go with my swollen member. My stories advertised me as a sexual person in a way, and I met lovers through my stories.

That in itself is not a healthy way to go. Since writing is something that intrigues me, I often write about things that interest me at the moment, not things that I am interested in all the time. I often met submissives who wanted the absolute strength my dom characters had instead of the rather overly sensitive hard on myself man that I am. It was like I was always answering someone else personal ad.

It also exerted a pressure on my stories that I was not aware of till lately. I edited myself because whether I was looking for lovers or not, I knew my stories reflected me. I over explained myself in my stories. I avoided topics like male submissives because I know writers have their sexual identities branded through their stories. If I was to ever met that dream submissive, it wasn’t going to be because I wrote about the perfect female dominatrix.

I could write a ton about what it is like to be in a poly situation where your primary relationship is in trouble, but that is something I don’t even like thinking about much less writing. Let me just point out that it made me feel like I was single during my marriage in that I didn’t have any one person who accepted me sexually the way I am. I would meet submissives who accepted me, which could be empowering but when my ex-wife would inevitably hate their guts, I would break up with them. It would strip me of any comfort I derived as well as really wrecking my self esteem.

On a more visceral level, being sexually frustrated meant I wrote a lot of stories just to have some sort of release. I didn’t write as much as I transferred. I think I wrote a lot of great stories that way but it is impossible to write objectively in that kind of frame of mind.

So here I am now, divorced and living with a wonderful woman who loves me completely. My ex-wife would sometimes say that if I ever were sexually happy, I would stop writing. I used to agree with her. Now I know better. Being with a woman who accepts and loves me hasn’t stopped my writing but it has certainly changed it.

For one thing, I feel like I have permission to do stories without fear of how a potential girlfriend will interpret it. The Victoria storyline in my Volleyball story was a female dominant story which is something I would never dream of attempting. Writing about a submissive male doesn’t make me submissive, but man, when you’re in that uncertain dating world, you don’t take chances.

The other thing I have noticed about my writing is my willingness to go out on a limb. I always want my readers to be entertained, and I never take them for granted, but I don’t have the added pressure of trying to attract anyone. I can write Master of Spanking (which concludes tomorrow!) and not worry about if I am coming across as too unserious.

I go back through some of my older stories and I wonder if I have lost some of the desperate passion that permeated my work but you know, I just don’t care. Last night I wrote the first chapter to my BDSM Werewolf story and if I do say so myself, that shit was hot. Getting laid certainly hasn’t affected my judgment on what makes for a hot scene.

I think having a better sex life doesn’t make for better writing, but I do know it makes for a lot happier writer. I hope in the coming years that my well laid ass can still entertain and hold your attention.

Sep 062008

Wow, I put off doing a main page for this story for almost a year. I think that answers the question of how connected this story was to my actual divorce.

I don’t remember how I had the idea for this story but I know I wrote it drawing upon my own unhappy marriage and the unhappy marriages that I have read so many times in other people’s blogs. There are patterns that are repeated, stories that are almost retold over and over by different people that last Halloween I realized that I could tell a story that was a distillation of all that unhappiness.

What happened is I ended up telling my story. I had to look at my own unhappiness and how easily I distracted myself from the problems in my relationship. Hannah used chores and she had a self esteem based on the things that distract her. I had my writing, my videogames and my friends. And just like Hannah, when exciting sexual situations intersected my life, I realized just how unhappy I was. I had given up on my own happiness.

A month after this story posted I broke up with my wife. I had met someone that I really liked and adored but I never imagined running off with her. I just didn’t do that. But after writing Hannah, and soaking in her sad life, I knew that I couldn’t live like that. Like Hannah, I didn’t know what the fuck I was going to do, but I knew I couldn’t continue like I have.

Neither should you.

The Seven Curses of Hannah Part One

The Seven Curses of Hannah Part Two

The Seven Curses of Hannah Part Three

The Seven Curses of Hannah Part Four

The Seven Curses of Hannah Part Five

The Seven Curses of Hannah Part Six

The Seven Curses of Hannah Part Seven

The Seven Curses of Hannah Part Eight

The Seven Curses of Hannah Part Nine

Mar 152008

The best part about my divorce hearting was that the woman handling my case had the same last name as eternal crush subject, Pam Grier. Oh, the fact that I am now actually divorced.

The process was unnecessarily complicated and grumpy from the less than fine court staff I had to deal with. It had a strange effect of calming me down. The ruder people were, the more I realized that these court people weren’t judgmental avatars of law, They were the self centered low empathy people that cut you off in traffic and can’t figure out why no one invites them to the cool parties.

So I got this shiny piece of paper that says I am divorced. Instead of excited I just wanted to take a 12 hour long nap. Wow. It’s like having a term paper that was due forever and I finally finished the sucker. I don’t have any feelings about the divorce itself. I just have this tremendous sense of relief that the paperwork, legal reading and court processes is over. Maybe I am in shock but I am just glad to have this weight off my shoulders.

I should write something.

Mar 142008

D-day is here. I go down to the divorce court for my hearing and get my official ruling on my marital status.

I of course am crazy anxious. I don’t fear any outcome in particular as much as I am just terrified in general. I want it to be over. I want to have it done off screen. I want to be able to think straight. I just have to make it through today.

One of the nice surprises I had this morning was a lot of new reference hits from live journal. They are all landing on my new Dungeon Mistress story which is pretty cool. When I came up with the story I wasn’t sure if people would respond to it but people seem to like a little sex with their Dungeons and Dragons.

I want to welcome all new readers and assure you that after my court date today, I will be far less whiney. Though in a weird way I am not sure what I will be like after today. I spent 14 years in a codependent relationship. I have spent the last three months outside that relationship but I am still learning how to be a person. In so many ways, this divorce is just a formality but in some very serious legal ways it is the start of a new life.

I wish it was tomorrow already.

Mar 072008

Me: Hey Ashley, want to come with me to my divorce court proceedings next week?

Ashley: Are you asking me to your divorce? That’s so sweet!

Me: Judges love it when the husband shows up with another woman! Besides, it will be good experience for you if you have to get a divorce.

Ashley: Oh God, I hope I don’t have to get the divorce in Kentucky just because I got married there.

Me: In Kentucky, the divorce judge makes all of his decisions based on how good your chicken cooking is.

Ashley: Oh no! You mean who ever has the better tasting chicken gets the house?

Me: That’s right. It’s like Iron Chef except instead of celebrity judges, it’s all determined by one cranky Kentuckian judge who used to be a colonel.

Ashley: And do you have to make potatoes and corn on the cob?

Me: No, that’s only if there is children involved. You have to make one side for each child.

Ashley: What about biscuits?

Me: That’s how they determine the 401K.

Ashley: What does dessert determine?

Me: Ummm, I’ve got nothing.

Ashley: That’s okay, we can talk about at the courthouse.

Me: Judges love it when you ridicule the process!

Feb 152008

Yesterday I received my divorce paperwork from the courthouse. On Valentine’s Day. I have a date to appear in court and even more paperwork to go in the big black folder.

It didn’t bother me too much to get this on a romantic holiday except for the fact that I think Fate needs a new writer because that was a pretty cheesy coincidence.

I didn’t tell my wife because it would bother her, which is just one more little nice thing I do to protect her feelings that she will never know about. That actually bothers me more. I want credit damn it. Instead she’ll keep going thinking I did nothing for her. Uggh. I need to get over that and let it go.

Feb 122008

I filed my divorce papers yesterday and the whole experience was weird. Last time I tried filing it was the Monday after the Super Bowl and the courthouse was deserted. I thought it had more to do with it being a Monday than with it being the day after a sports event. I was wrong. Yesterday it was slammed, with a line to get in that stretched out into the street.

At one point while standing in line, a large brute of a man cut in front of me. The temperature was about 4 degrees and this brute was only wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. He had a knit hat on his head with the words ‘bad boy’ sewn into it in glittering purple letters. He was also carrying a single apple in a plastic bag. Maybe I’m a coward, but I said nothing as this guy cut in front of me because I couldn’t figure out if he was such a bad ass that he didn’t wear warm clothes and he ate apples and didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought, or if he was mildly retarded.

Once I got into the courthouse, they require you to take off your jacket, empty your pockets, chunk everything into an x-ray scanner, walk through a metal detector and then pick up your stuff. The funny part is the entire metal detecting area is about three feet square and god damn it, those deputies want you to keep moving! After freezing your ass outside, you have to enter into a high speed strip and redress procedure in an area the size of my closet.

let me tell you something, deputies really stare at you when you start giggling.

So I make it past the front door and into the filing area. Lucky for me, there is no line again. Weirdly enough, the only guy working is the same guy who rejected my paperwork last time. This makes me feel good because I have the paperwork ‘he’ wanted, so nothing could go wrong.

I stand there for five minutes while the guy deliberately ignores me. Well of course. Waiting on the one guy who is there would make sense.

Another clerk sits down at his post, gives the other guy a funny look and then asks me what I need. I tell him, give him my paperwork and here is where it gets weird:

Apparently, the person who can sign off on my paperwork is missing, and they do not know where he is, or when he is coming back. The clerk is clearly embarrassed and tells me he’ll go ahead and process my paperwork, but he can’t give me a court date . He promises that when the important guy is found, and he does his job, that they will drop a letter in the mail letting me know when I need to arrive at court.

I expect that kind of wacky office drama at the biscuit shop. I was less excited to see hear this from the people handling my divorce. Sigh.

Who knew that the television sitcom ‘Night Court’ was really a documentary?

Feb 112008

Part two of what I hope is not a continuing series. Although it might be funny in a Kafka kind of way if every Monday I tried to file for divorce and something comical happened every time to prevent it. After a few story parts, I could roll some sex into it as I describe what hedonistic acts I did to alleviate my maddening depression. Hmmm.

Wish me luck today as I wrestle the court system into accepting my divorce papers today. I find it funny how easy it was to get married compared to how hard it is to get un-married.

Feb 042008

Today I go to the courthouse and file the paperwork I have gathered these last few weeks. When my anxiety gets the better of me I feel like I am about to take a test where failure results in me being humiliated by the entire courthouse. When I am less anxious I am merely pissed off that the concept of marriage is so institutionized that a man has to do the right paperwork in order to dissolve a relationship.

Obviously this has weighed on my mind and not helped with my writing. It has given me some funky dreams which I am willing to go through the filing process just to stop. My favorite dream was the one where I worked in a factory society that had a Guilt Pool that people who did bad things were supposed to go to and drown themselves. The person I dreamed about had done some minor crime and was supposed to go there, but he decided not to. All of society ground to a halt because they couldn’t figure out what to do next. Why wouldn’t the guy drown himself like a good drone? Didn’t he feel guilty like he was supposed to? The symbolism of that dream was so blatant I am embarrassed as a writer for dreaming it.

I hope that after I file the papers my brain will slow down. I can feel the genesis of a long story idea on the edge of my conscious but I have just been too anxious to focus on it. We’ll see how I feel tonight.


So I went to the courthouse. I got a small run around as people seemed to think that I needed to talk to a counselor instead of filing paperwork. When I finally arrived at my destination there was no line at all. This was my lucky day.

The helpful clerk explained to me that I did not have everything I needed despite me calling last week and going over everything I would need. The paperwork in question is a form that I had a feeling I needed but when I told my wife that we had more paperwork to fill out, she got back to me and said we didn’t need it. I don’t know what fucking legal advice she was getting but it was wrong.

What really frustrates me is that even though I wasn’t sure we needed that form, I wanted to get that form just in case. My wife doesn’t beleive in “just in case.” She believes “just in case” is a sign of weakness and lack of faith. Whether it is legal paperwork, saving money or printing out directions to a place; my wife sees this as unneccassary. Worse, she would tell me that my anxiety was making her anxious and we were better off not giving in to such paranoid thoughts. It frustrates me that I would beleive this crap.

I used to have anxiety dreams where we were in a disaster and I knew the right way to survive and she wouldn’t listen. She would get so angry when I told her about these dreams but then she wouldn’t do the things I thought we needed to do just in case. Fuck, I couldn’t win. If I saw something bad coming, I was being anxious. Not that it mattered because we weren’t going to prepare for it any way.

So now I need to print out another form, get her to sign it, and then get it notarized before I go back to the courthouse a second time. Fuck. I am so angry I can’t think straight. I just want to type obscenities on the screen till it all feels better.

Jan 172008

I have been filling out divorce paperwork all week long. As a writer, I often find legal documents to be hilarious. The cold dry language just begs to be parodied and I would happily fill my blog with sexed up funny versions of most legal forms. Filling out MY divorce papers however has not been funny. The cold language has been depressing and as a writer I just want to write in the margins little explanations.

Take cause of divorce. They want you to pick a grievance of some great injustice that is why you’re breaking up or they want you to use the legal term of ‘no fault’. I know we fall under ‘no fault’ but man, I ask myself if it is my fault every day. I wonder if I could have done more, could I have been forceful with my wishes, could I have been a better husband or did I just fundamentally fail at some point at making that marriage work. Putting no fault just seems like a cop out.

The divorce papers spend a great deal of time talking about children. As a child of divorced parents I understand the need but it makes me wish there was a childless divorce form. Flipping through pages of children discussion makes me feel like there was an important part of the marriage we never got around to. It makes me feel weirdly guilty for not having kids to put through this mess.

The obsession with children in the papers gets me angry that we don’t talk about the things that matter to us. There is no discussion of pets and god damn it, I miss my cats every day. There is no discussion of music, of who gets to listen to the songs of the last decade without crying. There is no discussion of who gets to watch Sailor Moon without feeling guilty that a reincarnated princess of the moon and a amnesiac tuxedo wearing bad ass could make it work but two kids from North Carolina couldn’t. No where in the divorce papers do they talk about who has custody of the memories of monsters defeated and quests accomplished when we played City of Heroes and Everquest.

Damn it. I need someone to make those decisions because I get caught up in the misery, the nostalgia and the mourning of it all. What is the point of a divorce if they won’t separate those things for me.

All week I have also been writing a story. It has nothing to do with divorce, spouses or even romance. I’m enjoying the hell out of writing it because I think the main character really pops and it is a vacation from my current issues. I honestly don’t know what I would do without my writing. Making something, and knowing that people will read it, enjoy it and remember it years after I have forgotten it gives me the comforting feeling that I can do something that will last.