So yesterday, M’s coworker asked him what we’re doing for Valentine’s Day.

M said, “Nothing.”

We live paycheck to paycheck and M gets paid on the 15th and 30th every month, so our Valentine’s Days usually look like this:
Wake up around 8:30am. Smooch and snuggle in bed for a few minutes.
I get up and make breakfast for us and the cats.
M gets up when breakfast is ready and starts working, eating while he works.
I clean.
I read.
I tweet.
I write.
I make lunch and M eats while he works.
I hang out with the cats.
I talk to M when he’s got a free moment.
I play video games.
One of us makes dinner. If we’re lucky, M gets to stop working, but that’s rare. Often, he eats dinner while he works.
We usually have sex.
We watch TV or a movie or play video/board/card games.
We go to bed. Read more…

Hi. How are you?

No, really. How are you?

I know that’s, like, a default thing we all ask friends, family, and strangers, and we don’t often actually want to hear (or care about) the answer. But I really do. How are you?

I’m okay, today. I know you didn’t ask, but I’m going to tell you anyway.

Money’s tight because we had to lease new furniture because our old furniture was literally causing both of us spine and hip injuries, and then we spent more money than we should have over the holidays. Our bad. But we’ll get through it. We always do.

My mental health has been in the toilet. Some time over the holidays, I realized that I really don’t give a shit if I live or die. I’m not having suicidal ideations. I’m not actively suicidal. I just don’t care what happens. Read more…

Quick note: Our theme seems to be having occasional trouble in Safari. I can’t figure out what’s causing it. It’s a super old theme, and we’ll be updating to something more modern and less of a pain in the ass to maintain, but for now, M’s buried, and he does all my theme work, so it might be a while. If you’re having theme issues, please drop me a line at rayne@insatiabledesire.com and let me know what browser you’re using, and then try another browser. Thanks! Sorry for the inconvenience.

I’ve been having a lot of really weird dreams involving me being a dude.

A lot. Of really weird dreams.

There was this one where I was on testosterone. That was a while ago, so that’s all I really remember about it (and if I’m to be honest, I only really remember it because I was running a Twitter search for a conversation I participated in about whether or not “cis” is a slur, and that was one of the tweets that came up).

There was one where I was a trans man, but I couldn’t afford to transition. I had come out, and my family had disowned me, so I moved in with my friend and her husband (who, weirdly, lived in the house I spent my teen years in), and her husband was a complete piece of shit who kept doing fucked up shit to me because “you’re too pretty to be a dude.” Read more…

It seemed too good to be true.

We were both into a woman who was just as into me as she was M¹.

That NEVER happens.

Generally speaking, when we dip our toes into the shallow end of the extramarital relationship/sex pool, I am simply an obstacle to get around to the women we meet. It’s at least half the reason we stopped looking.

If the only people who are interested in Master are women who are hoping to outdo me in some way (and, in many cases, push me out of the relationship completely), then what’s the point? A polyamorous relationship is not a competition. Nobody wins when the people involved treat it as such.

I mean, I get it. Guys like him are one in a million. These women watch him interact with me and see how awesome he is, and how awesome our relationship is, and they want that, too. Read more…

Hey, y’all. How’ve you been?

Sorry I’ve been gone so long. Things have been a little…weird. I can’t really say I’ve been in a bad place the whole time, but to some extent, I have. I’ve watched in horror as my country shows how FUBAR it is, and screamed at my iPad over an entire political party endorsing a known pedophile for Senate, and deleted my Twitter app for a few weeks, and cried while adults attacked kids for wanting to do something to prevent their peers from experiencing mass murder in their schools, and railed against a winter that started being a royal cunt in mid-November and is still dumping snow on us as we speak.

But mostly, I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching.

I’m not ready to talk about it. I’m not sure I’ll ever talk about it here. Nothing personal, I’ve just moved most of that stuff over to a non-adult blog¹ I started in December².

I’ve been writing there at least once a week. Or trying to, at least. I’m moving my recipes over there, and my introspection re: mental health and personal issues, and probably most political talk that doesn’t relate to kink or sex. I want to stress most because I’m not the type to set brand rules for myself, and I don’t really feel like talking politics has ever been “off brand” for me, so I’ll almost definitely decide that someone in the kink/sex community needs to be talking about something political and it might as well be me and go back on that. Which is why I’m stressing most. Read more…

From the very first time I heard this song, it felt like someone ripped the words right out of my heart. And then Chester committed suicide, and I felt empty, heartbroken. I don’t think I’ve ever been hit so hard by a musician’s death.

Anyway, I just wanted to share because this song gives a bit of insight into my mind.

Rest in power, Chester. You are loved and missed.

You are never alone. If you or someone you know is considering suicide, please call 1-800-273-8255.