So let me get this complaint out of the way before I do anything else. You all know what bad luck I have with rude people. There was probably a curse put on me that I know nothing about. I am fucking unlucky though, I can tell you that. Our last flight home, from Atlanta, Georgia, was to be nearly five hours long. That much time cramped into that small of a space is bad enough, but it was much worse than you can imagine. There had to have been at least six loud, cranky, babbling infants in our vicinity and they kept up a constant cacophony the entire time. One little one kept repeating the word "Fly" or "Bye" or something that sounded like that. Another took to screeching on a regular basis. It was horrible. I did my best to sleep through it or play music to drown it out. My ears hurt from all the noise. I feel sorry for MY LOVE, who only got to escape it slightly when the airline played a movie for us. It was a crappy film too, but it kept us distracted...
Unfortunately, that's not all I have to tell you. Before we were even off the ground I had a problem with the woman behind me. Have you seen where sometimes they will put phones or little video screens in the back of the headrests? This woman sitting behind me, while talking to a friend behind her, began poking her finger at the back of my headrest and talking about how there wasn't a phone/video screen there. She did it hard, several times in a row, so I turned around and asked her to stop. I was polite - she wore a stunned look upon her face. It was clear from the moment I addressed her that there was going to be a problem. She was obviously offended that I asked her to stop poking at the back of my chair and for the next thirty minutes she made this clear by continually pushing or bumping into the back of my seat. She would lean over and drive her head into it or turn to talk to her friend and grab the back of my headrest and yank on it. MY LOVE, sitting next to me, could also feel this. I think I showed a great deal of patience, all things considered, and I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say that five minutes did not go by before she was slamming the tray back into place or digging into the back of my seat for a magazine. It was pathetic.
Eventually I lost a little control, and probably at the wrong moment. I decided that the next time I felt the woman behind me slam into my seat I was going to depress the button on the arm rest that allowed me to recline a bit. It just so happened that when I next felt something it was her trying to hoist her ass up to go to the bathroom. Pushing back, I essentially pinned her in for a moment. I heard her grunt, and squeeze against my chair, but she managed to get out and head down the aisle. I was tense, and angry, and really ready to explode. When the lady finally came back and sat down, pushing past the two people sitting in the same row, I heard her say something about getting away from "the freaks around me". I couldn't resist turning and asking if we really needed to stoop to name calling. The woman looked at me and said, "Turn around, little man." And that became the phrase that she repeated over and over again as I tried to deal with her. It was like trying to talk to a child that is saying, "I know you are but what am I?" or something asinine like that. Truly bizarre.
I guess while she was up taking a leak the woman spoke with a stewardess about our situation. Somehow she must have painted me in a negative light but I can't imagine how. "Hey stewardess, the man in front of me keeps complaining that I'm smashing into the back of his chair like a rude bitch". Next thing I knew she was getting up and moving to another seat. The couple sitting next to her actually leaned forward and thanked me for getting her to move. I don't know what she was doing to make them feel uncomfortable but it was nice to hear. The rest of the flight might have been bliss, were it not for those screaming babies, but at least I had the opportunity to come down an anxiety level or two...
So yeah, fuck the people of this country. Fuck the clueless, ignorant folks who don't know the first thing about courtesy or respect. Fuck the morons who can't be polite or take a moment to think about someone but themselves. And if you think this rant is over you are wrong, because MY LOVE and I had another great experience on the plane to Mississippi... but that'll be another post.
The good stuff is coming soon. Just warning you though, we head out tomorrow for Los Angeles. Thirteen hours in the car, but at least we won't be surrounded by screaming children or rude passengers. Nobody will be kicking the back of my seat. We can stop and get out any time we want to, pull over for food that won't cost a fortune, etc. It will be heaven compared to the last few flights. So be patient and understand if I don't update again for a couple days.
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MY LOVE writes:
***Haven't written in a while - just busy with life and work and family - so time to jump right back in with a blurb from "The Week" magazine.
A Michigan woman without health insurance shot herself to get medical attention. Kathy Myers, 41, says she injured her shoulder a month ago, but was told that without insurance "it would have to be life-threatening or imminent danger for them to do anything." Myers then shot herself in the shoulder and returned to the hospital, but doctors treating the gunshot would ignored the previous injury. "I really didn't accomplish what I hoped it would accomplish," Myers said.
Greatest country in the world...if you're rich.***
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Over the past three years I’ve traveled with MY LOVE to quite a few different cities in the U.S. so that she could work with some other adult-oriented companies. Most of them have been long-established, relatively successful businesses and caused us absolutely no problems. They were courteous and respectful, came through with whatever agreements they made and even treated me, the boyfriend, like I was welcome on the set. That is apparently a rarity for a lot of these companies.
There were a couple of companies, however, that weren’t so wonderful to work for/with. One individual set out, on the first day of shooting, to prove to his colleagues that he was no “Teddy Bear”. Apparently his style of BDSM seemed light or tame to some people he felt he needed to impress, and he figured he would use MY LOVE/Catherine de Sade to prove them wrong. Without anything remotely close to a warm-up he went after her thighs with wooden spoons. There’s more to share about that experience, believe me, but I’ll just leave it at that.
We finally received footage today from a different company we had a less than wonderful experience with. Part of the agreement to work with them was that MY LOVE would get copies of the video that was shot so that we could sell it on our site(s). The promise was made, but for months and months all we got were some high-quality photos from the shoot. No video. We were happy to have them, at the time, and understood there was some difficulty with the quality of the footage that they were trying to work out. Time went by and nothing seemed to get accomplished. MY LOVE would write to these people only to be reassured that they were working on it. What should have taken four months, max, took nearly a year and the results are less than wonderful.
The “Dom” in these videos is a man who claims to take “the lifestyle” seriously, but watching him you can see he doesn’t even know the first thing about it. He has no presence, no skills, and is basically the kind of guy who thinks taking a cane and whacking at a girl is how you dominate someone. Before they’d even begun filming he was trying to throw MY LOVE around, and wrestle with her while going through the scene. She made it clear, several times, that he needed to ease up – they weren’t shooting yet so it was fucking pointless – but the guy didn’t seem to want to listen. When she went off to use the restroom and he sat down and asked for my opinion I had absolutely no problem telling him that he needed to start opening his ears and respecting MY LOVE when she made it clear he was being too rough. There were several people sitting around us, and the room got suddenly quiet, but I am happy to say he was respectful and actually listened to what I was saying. He agreed with me, and when MY LOVE came back he seemed to have calmed down a little. Watching her shoot with him, you could see the look of irritation on her face. Editing the footage now, it’s even clearer. It was not a pleasant experience.
His partner in some of these films was just as bad. His idea of dominating a woman was to stand behind her and rub her nipples between his fingers like he was trying to tune in a difficult radio station. He also believed a glass dildo should be taken and just shoved in and out of a woman, over and over again, until told to stop. Like a machine. Watching both of these clowns was really painful, but having to wait all this time for footage that is virtually worthless was the final insult.
I’ve always said, “I’m not a Top or Dom or anything like that.” I don’t claim to know the first thing about the implements I wield, I don’t give two shits about trying to get women into subspace, and I definitely wouldn’t tell anyone I was part of the community or the lifestyle. If I did, I would probably feel a bit more responsible for my actions and a bit more cautious with how I presented myself to the world. As it is now, I make no apologies for doing exactly what I want, the way I want, and fuck everybody’s standards and expectations. And doing this, I put out a product that many people enjoy. I don’t know how well these people are doing with their businesses but I do know that we have absolutely no desire to work with them again. Perhaps calling it amateur hour is a bit harsh but that’s pretty much what I witnessed.
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Friday night, MY LOVE and I decided to chance it and go to one of the local cheap theatres to see “Shutter Island”. For a Friday, the theatre was actually pretty empty, but then again it’s a damn boring movie that really seems to go nowhere so I’m not surprised people weren’t fighting for seats. We sat in the very last row again so that nobody could possibly sit behind us and be a bother. The movie started, and although it was pretty slow and uninteresting I think we were both enjoying ourselves.
Two younger guys came in about ten minutes into the movie and sat down two rows in front of us. They did not otherwise draw attention to themselves until about another twenty or so minutes had passed. That was when the smaller of the two got up and left for a moment. When he returned, he had a big bag of popcorn and a large soda. After handing his friend the bag, he sat down and began to eat. This was really noticeable right away. Shutter Island is a slow, quiet movie (crunch!) so there were plenty of (crunch! crunch!) moments where you could hear (crunch!) what was going on down the hallway, in the (crunch! crunch!) lobby of the theatre. But that’s not what I (crunch!) heard. I all heard (crunch! crunch!) was the young guy sitting two rows in front of me, literally (crunch!) shoveling popcorn into his mouth, non-stop, for (crunch! crunch!) twenty minutes straight. Every bite he took (crunch!) he chewed with his mouth wide open. The only time he (crunch!) paused was to reach over and grab the soda pop he’d (crunch!) purchased. And as the drink disappeared (crunch! crunch!) he began to shake the cup – ice rattling loudly (crunch!) for everyone to hear. Then it was back to (crunch! crunch!) shoveling handful after handful of popcorn into his (crunch!) mouth, each bite a loud exclamation (crunch!) in the near-silence. It was (crunch!) maddening. I had to sit with my fingers (crunch! crunch!) in my ears to eliminate the (crunch!) sound. I could still see the movie, and could even hear (crunch!) what was going on, but frankly it wasn’t that exciting or (crunch! crunch!) entertaining. Leonardo Di’Caprio spent a lot of time (crunch!) talking to dead people, hiding dead (crunch! crunch!) bodies, and getting absolutely nowhere at a very slow (crunch!) pace. We did finally give up on the (crunch!) movie with no regrets. I don’t even care how it (crunch! crunch!) ended.
Of course I ranted on the way home. After having to ask the drunk women at the concert the other night to please shut up or take their loud conversation elsewhere I really didn’t want to have another incident. It blew my mind that nobody else around the pig seemed to be affected by his open-mouthed chomping. MY LOVE said that a man in their same row kept looking over at the two young men, so maybe he was bothered by it as well. I know there was a couple sitting almost directly in front of them and I was astonished they never turned around and said a word. If it was loud for us, two rows behind him I can’t imagine what it was like directly in front of him. Maybe they were blissfully ignorant. Wish I could learn that trick.
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MY LOVE received a call today from Seattle, Washington. The Pacific Northwest Ballet called about a review/reaction I had to their "3 by Dove" performance we attended a while back. I'm sure they got her number from the online ticket purchase, and they solicited the review/reaction from me via e-mail. What I wrote to them wasn't rude but it was honest. I know they read it, because I was actually asked specific questions regarding what I wrote, over the phone. However, that wasn't the REAL reason they called...
As I said I was asked a few questions, and allowed to express myself, then the sales pitch began. It was kind of subtle at first, I give them credit for that. The lady I was speaking with started off by explaining why they'd chosen to highlight the work of Ulysses Dove that evening and I found it slightly informative, even though I hadn't asked for any of it. The lady finished up telling me about whatever she was babbling about and then linked what she was saying to the topic of what was coming up in the future. Typical of any salesperson, she was breathlessly bulldozing forward, trying her damnedest to make sure I couldn't butt in and stop her. I think when my first few exclamations were positive she was surprised and certain she was going to land a big sale. I listened very politely and did not interrupt her. Some of what she described sounded fascinating, and if I were living in Seattle I would probably consider getting the 6 performances for $200+ deal, because tickets to the ballet/choreographed dance ain't cheap. But I live in Oregon, which is something the woman knew the moment she dialed our number. When she asked why we chose that specific night to be our first I told her that we were visiting Seattle, from Portland, Oregon. Yet she still wasted my time and went through her sales pitch, thinking there was a chance I'd commit $200+ to 6 performances I'd have to travel a few hundred miles to see. I commend her for barreling ahead though. It takes balls to commit to a sales pitch you should know from the beginning, in your gut, is a lost cause.
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