38 Degrees of Insomnia

It's really cold outside this morning, 38 degrees F. I'm awake because I am afraid my snakes will be too cold. You see, I am the thermostat.

I have been thinking this morning about the sort of sub I would like to have this time. I try to pick a life partner for a sub, and will this time also. There are so many subs now. It is like a cyber singles bar of my fetish, everyday I meet many subs online, 95% of whom just want a quick & free trance (which in my universe might as well be a quick & free #@&! . . . (Can I say fuck?). Some are married, some are too young, some are boring (Carlitos says no boring men—women hate a boring man. He is right!). Even the ones that might fit in all these catagorical requirements, usually are still pretty one-dimensional.

For those of you who have never been a hypnotic Mistress, you must imagine all the males that are finally getting a chance to speak to a Domme, because I am the only one nice enough to talk to all these novices, weirdos, and everybody else who wants to chat. They are nervous. They say things like, "I don't know what to say." You can feel how tense they are. It is almost painful seeing them like that. I am usually doing five things besides talking to them. Maybe chatting with my 'real friends,' doing the mail, looking at boa constrictors on kingsnake.com—whatever—plus talking to them. It means everything to this guy, and almost nothing to me. Or there are those guys who nervously ask you questions: 20 questions, 50 questions, 100 questions. Then they ask questions that require longer and longer answers. At this point, I am usually distracted. I ignore him more and more and, before long, his BIG OPPORTUNITY is gone.

I do not relish beginning to think about a new sub now. I wish there were a way to still be nice to everyone, but only interview the ones who are experienced subs and hypnotic subjects—and who have a life. And who have stuff going on in their brains besides the kinky thoughts. A person, a real stand-alone person, is what I would like. Someone who can go in public with me and isn’t mistaken for my son . . . or my father.

I just read what someone trying to connect to me, in this thing called Yahoo! 360, said about himself. It’s one of those friends’ networks. He said he just wants to meet women who will have sex with him, so I deleted him. Another person the other day asked if I would join his 360 too. I saw that there were like six other Goddesses there already, and they were all, you know, the ones that take money for my kink. You know the kind—and don't get me started here or my blog will look like my FAQs! There, I tell everyone to be careful and pick a Dominant that is a person (not a business), who cares for you, etc.

Sometimes I wonder, where all these terminally horny porn-dog guys that inhabit the Net come from. I mean, before the Internet, where were all of them? Do you suppose the Net gives them the courage, the anonymity, the venue to allow them to talk to us? I mean, otherwise we'd have to hang out around porn movie theaters and dirty book stores to meet them, right? I am kinky, but there is a difference between kinky and scummy.

At last the sun came up, and my snakes are coming up off the 75 degree mark. I need more heaters or more insulation, or more something. I know I need more chocolate; of this I am sure. America is the "more" economy too, more pizza, more sex, more new cars, more lingerie, more everything, more jewelry, more hair products, more this, more that. No wonder there are drugs like antidepressants for all the people who want more, more, more of everything and cannot have it. That's what we are—a society of people who want things they cannot have: a house, an estate, a mansion, a car, a bigger better newer car, a brand new Ferrari, a hooker, a chick, a woman, a proDomme, a lifestyle hypnoDomme. It doesn't matter what it is, once you have it you want a better bigger newer shinier one.

I'm going back to sleep I hope.