Who I Am

     As I am just starting out blogging, I have already learned quite a bit during my experience thus far.  I should mention that I am normally a very private person.  I don't like people I don't know to know anything about me.  I don't share my business with people.  I prefer to have very few, very close friends.  I thought when I started this blog I would be able to get away with not giving anything of myself away as long as I provided practical, usable content.  I now see that that won't work.  How is anyone supposed to value my opinions if they don't know who I am?  That being said, this post will be a brief summary of who I am and where I came from.

     As a child I was always sexually curious.  I found my father's Playboys at age three and instantly knew it was something taboo, which made it exciting.  I remember hiding behind my parents cocktail bar, taking my clothes off, and pretending to pose sexily.  I always wanted to be naked, and was forever in trouble for not keeping my clothes on.  Once, on the way home from church, my mother and grandmother turned around to find me in the backseat, down to my Underoos, trying to persuade a neighborhood boy to show me his Underoos.

     I started masturbating at a young age, having stolen my father's back massager.  The first time I used it, I had what was apparently an ejaculatory orgasm.  I was convinced that I had peed on myself and it was awhile before I used it again.  Before long though, I was masturbating every time I had a spare minute alone.

     I also loved promiscuous, flashy clothes and high heels.  Any of my mother's clothes which fit the aforementioned criteria were hoarded for my own dress-up adventures.  I also loved make-up.  I embarrassed my mother many times by sneaking makeup into the car and applying it in the backseat.  By the time we reached our destination, I had applied several thick coats of fire-engine red lipstick, blush and eye-liner which no amount of Wet-Naps was going to take off.

     Despite these early signs, everyone in my family just knew I was going to be a writer, or a teacher, or a lawyer, or some other such noble profession.  My IQ is 140.  I was an avid reader from a very young age and was in mostly gifted classes in school.  I was also artistically inclined.  Several of my artworks are still hanging in the schools I attended.  Therefore, what was to come for me was a big surprise to my family.

     I met one of my lifelong best friends when I was nine.  She wouldn't let me ride her bike.  I called her a "fucking piece of shit"...and so budded a lasting friendship.  From that moment on, we spent every waking moment together.  I was either at her house, or she was at mine.  When we were 13, her perverted step-father raped me.  I won't go into it too deeply, but I had a very hard time with this until he committed suicide two years later.  After that,  I seemed to be "cured" of any dysfunction related to the incident.

     I also met my first real  boyfriend in my thirteenth year.  I lost my virginity to him when I was 14 and he was 17.  It was a very painful, unpleasant experience, but he made up for it later.  Every boyfriend I've had since then owes him a debt of gratitude.  He was both very charming, and very kinky.  He talked me into trying all sorts of new things. He ended up asking me to marry him and gave me a ring, although I really have to admit that I never intended on going through with it.  I've never really believed in paperwork, especially to do with romance. Over the three years I dated him,  we probably never had sex the same way twice.  Being with him helped to shape who I am sexually.  I am very thankful today for my relationship with him.  We ended up breaking up after three years because he thought I had slept with his friend.  I didn't.  I am and always have been an extremely loyal person.  If I say I'm with a man, then I'm with him and no one else.  The one time I've violated this rule was when I was cheated on, but we'll get to that in a bit.

     At this point my family was really starting to worry about me.  My love for promiscuous clothing had gone beyond playing dress-up.  I was constantly in trouble for dress code violations.  They have never said it, but I'm sure they thought I was one of those girls that slept with the entire basketball team.  I certainly presented myself that way.  I wasn't though.  I'm somewhat of a serial monogamist and have only slept with 7 men.

     Despite my family's high hopes for me, I made the stupid decision to drop out of school 3 weeks from graduation due to a misunderstanding about credits.  It was a problem I could have solved pretty easily, but I was young and full of steam and had the "fuck it" attitude.  Shortly thereafter, I enrolled in adult high at the local community college and thats where I met my next boyfriend.  I would spend the next 7 years with him.  I thought he was handsome...so did all the other girls at the adult high.  He wasn't very bright, matter of fact, he was borderline retarded, but he was handsome and street-smart.  He lived with one of the biggest drug dealers in the area, so he always had pot, acid, cocaine and ecstasy...at the age of 17, this was considered a perk.

     After a couple years of adventure, I ended up getting pregnant with my first child.  He worked in construction, and made good money, but he would spend it on pot all the time. I stayed home with the baby. The birth of my son forced me to grow up a bit---not the case with him, however.  He would spend the rent money on drugs and was always in and out of jail.  Finally he got injured at work and it became obvious rather quickly he would not be working again any time soon.  He was owed a Workers Compensation claim, but it would be some time before he received it.  I had never had a job.  Weeks went by, and though I put in application after application, nobody was calling back.  Finally, after hearing my plight, the next-door neighbor, a girl straight out of a Whitesnake video, said she knew where I could get a job.   She took me down to one of the local strip-clubs.  Despite my circumstances, it took me three days of hanging around the club to get up the nerve to get onstage.  But once I did that was it.  I would spend the next 10 years dancing and loving every minute of it.  The other girl's named me 'Sweetness' due to my innocence, and that's the name that stuck.

     People have asked me whether, as an intelligent woman, I regret "wasting" 10 years of my life as a stripper.  The answer has always been and always will be a resounding 'NO'.   Firstly you must understand that I loved performing.  My father was the lead singer and lead guitarist of a band and I was always onstage as a child, singing and performing with him in various bars.  So not only was I used to being onstage (albeit in a much different way), but I was also comfortable with the atmosphere.  I ended up being very good at what I did onstage because I loved doing it.  You also must remember I was predisposed to this from a very young age.

    Inasmuch, being such a brainy girl, I was incredibly naive about people...sort of socially retarded.  Despite my exhibitionist tendencies, I was painfully shy.  I had way less of a problem taking my clothes off onstage than I had with talking with the men who watched me.  When I first started, many men would buy me drinks, only to have me sit there completely silent.  I had no idea how to talk to people.  It took awhile, but I loosened up a bit.  I learned more about people, and especially the differences between women and men, and what each want and respond to, than any psychology book could've taught me.  I formed lasting friendships with some of the people and had the time of my life doing it.  I could never regret that.  I had so many wild experiences, I've often thought about writing a book about it, but that it another story, to be told another time.

     My boyfriend proposed marriage, and this time I said no.  He started pressing me to have a threesome, and I agreed.  He was pushy, however, and not selective at all.  He started hanging out up at my job and approaching all the dancers about it without my knowledge.  He told me that a girl named Silver had agreed, but this girl was nasty.  She had sores all over her body, which she claimed came from some kinky sex where another girl had burned her with a cigarette.  But I knew better.  I told him there was no way I was going down on that disease infested whore, but he was determined.  The prospect of what he wanted was right there within his grasp so he decided he was going to go for it with or without me.  He started going up to my job on my nights off and hanging out with her.  About that time, he got his Workman's Comp settlement which was just over $12,000.  He started cheating on me with her and spent all the money in less than 20 days.  After his money was gone, she left him alone.  He still wouldn't admit that he had cheated, even though it was obvious.  I cornered her in the dressing room at work, and put a very unladylike beating on her which resulted in her getting 20 stitches in her head.  I finally decided that wasn't the way to go about things and when she returned to work, pretended I was befriending her for the sake of  obtaining the proof I needed.  She told me everything.  When we got off work, I talked her into coming to my house.  We went in and he was sleeping on the couch.  We both bent over his face.  I poked him hard in the ribs.  He opened his eyes and the look on his face was priceless.  I think he thought he was having a bad dream.  He blinked and paused, then looked from me to her and back again.  I smiled and said "Boom!  I got your girlfriend!".  He looked like he was going to cry.  I spent the next three hours making fun of both him and her to their faces before kicking her out.

     My need for revenge was not sated, though.  I met a young, cute military boy at work and pretty much decided I was going to sleep with him.  To save my conscience, I broke up with my boyfriend before leaving for work one night.  But because I broke up with him for the sole purpose of fucking the military boy, I still consider this my one instance of  infidelity.  The military boy went by the name of  "Ice" if that tells you anything about him.  I did fuck him that night, and it was the worst sex I have ever had to this day...pointless rutting.  No pleasure at all came from that experience save coming home and blatantly showing off the hickies on my neck on purpose.  I  told him everything that had occurred, leaving out, of course, the fact that it had sucked.  We got back together, and everything was fine for awhile.

     We did end up having a threesome.  It was the perfect situation with the perfect girl and it went on about a year.  I met her at work although she wasn't a dancer .  She was gorgeous and decent and trustworthy.  We had some really mind-blowing times.  We would take ecstasy and fuck for hours.  It finally leveled off though as she wasn't the type to stick with a single situation, no matter how great it was, forever.  We remained friends for a long time after that.

     Eventually I couldn't handle my relationship with my boyfriend anymore.  He was constantly in jail and we moved constantly because he would spent the rent money on weed.  We broke up, he stayed in jail, and I kept dancing.

     About 6 months later, I met my next boyfriend.  He was a doorman at work.  An incredibly sexy punk with dyed bright red liberty spiked hair.  His right arm had been amputated just below the elbow in an accident and many of the sluttier girls constantly made comments to him regarding where he could stick his arm, were he so inclined.  He knew a good girl when he saw one however and soon we were dating.  Being an old fashioned stripper (hehe)  I made him wait a month before we had sex.  The sex was awesome, although he wasn't quite as adventurous as I was.  After awhile,  the things the other girls had invited him to do to them had always stuck in my mind and I asked him to fuck me with his arm.  The experience was mind blowing.  I will describe it more fully in another post, but let's just say there are certain huge perks to dating an amputee.

     Time went on, we had children together also.   I kept dancing a couple more years, but finally decided to pursue other things.  I didn't want to end up being one of those women people point at and say "She's too old to be stripping.".  I have my pride.  I wasn't close to being past my prime, but I didn't want it to sneak up on me either.  They don't have retirement plans...there's no 401k.

     After I quit dancing, our relationship sort of fell into a rut.  I had no outlet anymore.  I had projected many of the more exciting, sexy and adventurous parts of myself onto my other persona, 'Sweetness'...and now she was gone. 'Sweetness' would do this or that, but I wouldn't. I was a mother, I was a housewife.  I felt like I had lost part of myself---like there was a huge hole in my personality.  In reality, all those parts were still me, but when you express them under a different name, and only at certain times, and then you stop, it can be hard to adjust to.  I became very reclusive and depressed.  I was also very insecure.  I felt like everything sexy about me had left when I left 'Sweetness' behind.  I began to worry that he was going to cheat on me, and I began to accuse him of such with no proof at all.  This, combined with the fact that once he stopped working at the strip club, his work ethic went down the toilet, really took a toll on our relationship.  Working at the bar had been fun for him, just as it had for me, so he had no problem going to work every night.  But once that came to an end for him, he found the transition back into the real world just as hard as I did, in a different way.  He got other jobs, but he would call out all the time.  Despite my constant bitching,  the problem continued.  Finally, I took a job as a travel agent and suburban normalcy came crashing down around us.

     To put some excitement back into our relationship, I started pressing him about having a threesome. Why not?  It had worked perfectly in my last relationship...it would work in this one.  He agreed, and before too long, opportunity presented itself.  A girl from down the street began hanging out.  I knew she knew we liked her.  Before long, her boyfriend was out of the picture.  We went over to her house and one thing led to another.  It went on for a few months, we ended up staying over at her house more often than not, and the sex was great.  Only thing was, this didn't feel good or right like it did before.  There was nothing apparently wrong at first.  I couldn't put my finger on it exactly, just that something wasn't right.  I began having strange dreams.  In the dreams she was spraying something from an aerosol can into my eyes which made a cloud I couldn't see through.  In the back of my mind,  I knew what that meant.  I have always followed my intuition.  For some reason I didn't in this case.  He began picking fights with me for no reason, sitting next to her instead of next to me.  Then he started going to her house all the time for various reasons.  Finally we got into a huge fight, which she provoked--- and that was it.  He moved in with her.  I had just found out I was pregnant with our third child.

    This was more than I could take.  I felt so betrayed.  I went down to her house and told her that once I had the baby,  I would be coming for her...and I did, but she ran from me.  Doing the only thing an angry, frustrated woman can do.  I got into my Ford Explorer, drove to her house and proceeded to ram my vehicle repeatedly into her house and her car.  Now let me pause here to state, that, one cannot underestimate the therapeutic value of getting in one's vehicle and ramming it, with uninhibited abandon into some slut's house.  I estimate I saved two years time and numerous thousands of dollars in therapy doing this.  Needless to say, I went to jail...for the first time in my life.  I was put on probation.  Do I regret doing this?  I am a person who regrets very little---least of all this.  Should I have known better in the first place?  Definitely.  But I can't change the past, I can only take lessons from it.  And I have.

     After that, I spent a long time by myself.  I learned to take care of me again.  I took advantage of all the things I could never find time for. I read alot.  I went out alot.  And best of all,  I was HOT alot!!  I had fun.  I flirted.  I teased.  I never slept with anyone during that time period, but it sure wasn't for the lack of anyone else wanting to.  That was truly my best revenge of all.  LOL!!

     I started this blog as a way of helping me gain those pieces of my 'Sweetness' back.  I know a lot about sexuality, people and life in general, and my hope is to share what I know.  I hope you enjoy my posts and I hope that if you have any questions or need any advice, you feel free to let me know.  Have a sexy day!