This is the first Full Length Podcast episode since I quit putting out Exercising My Demons on Libsyn. In this Episode I discuss how even though my rope bag was packed and I was in the car on the high way my Nilla life once again interfered with my kink based plans. A rough translation of the audio portion is included incase you’d rather read, find my voice offensive, or don’t want your children to hear me cursing.
The Audio Player is at the bottom.
Hope you Enjoy
-Mal
Script – Foiled Again…I was so close to the Rope social!
For the past three months I’ve been trying to get out and be social. Really I have! Admittedly I went into sort of a non-kink life frenzy shortly after missing Lewbaricon in St Louis this past spring. My travel routing which is a big part of my typically insane life changed leaving me less time with established frequent party and kink stops and more dammed business stops.
In June the Chesty Blonde’s dad decided to show up from Florida with less than 12 hours notice. Fuck mission aborted. I did how ever make quite the impression as he entered the hose I was apparently standing up throwing a double bird at the elected official speaking on TV while screaming profane bursts in that general direction.
The following month the Chesty Blonde’s Mom and Stepdad came in for dinner. Oh it was all prearranged with the little chesty Mrs but I don’t exactly write rope social on the fucking family calendar to block off my time. Typically I would bail out this type of event if there was something else going on but this time I had already been committed to be the fucking chef! Fine! I cooked we ate, I made cruel snide comments and uncalled for jokes at which is not at all out of character and everyone laughed having had a great time…except for me. While a gracious host I kept thinking about the other festivities going on elsewhere.
Then came the August outing. I made it perfectly clear what the date was. As fate would have it her mom was coming in but it was for a Girl’s day of spa and beauty crap. In other words I was not welcome. So the Blonde wouldn’t consider attending and I couldn’t needle her into it but everyone else had plans leaving me with no encumbrances. Or so it seemed.
Sunday Morning – everyone sleeps in I wake up around 5 and go to the gym. Other than being there an hour early than anticipate everything is going as scheduled. I do some extra cardio, shower and head home. The Blonde is sitting on the front porch in the cool morning air sipping a fifty five gallon cup of water. OK it was 64 ounces which might as well be a 55 gallon drum. At least she wasn’t going to be having hydration issues like I was.
“our appointment is at 1 then we may go to the mall and dinner.” She tells me as I gobble down homemade blue berry pancakes and try to rehydrate. I admit that I have the “thing at 3” but other than that wasn’t sure what I’d be doing. All seemed fine then came the possibility that my youngest might not want to go dress shopping could I pick her up. I agreed that if she called by 2:15 I’d pick her up and drop her off before I left. After all 3:00 is just the starting time I could just as easily show up for the social at 3:15 or even four and no worries I’d still be just as welcome right?
The time comes for me to get ready to leave so I turn off Netflix where I was watching some inane music documentary, pack a small rope bag with an assortment of green 6 and 8mm coils that haven’t been touched since I processed them a few months ago, throw a few treats in the direction of the neighbor’s dog as I head out to the running store to indulge my wicking sock fetish. Ok it’s not a real fetish but I do like my special socks for when I run and since I’m doing a mileage build up a few new pairs were in order.
My youngest text’s me “I’m going to go with them.” Hell yeah full steam ahead! As I head toward the highway calling my old friend Victoria. I arrive at the sock store which is jammed with running shoe fetish types all in their special clothes and sets of symbols. You think S&M has a sub culture try figuring out the mutations of running fetish people…there are the pronators the over pronaters , the neutrals, the short and long distances types those that partake in hill training etc.
As I park at the running fetish store I get a text from the Blonde. “Want to meet for dinner later in west county?” I agree that it might work then 3 minutes later the phone rings. “will I come with them. Lilly want to go but not to shop for dresses with Diva” FUCK! They were supposed to be at the damn mall already. Fuck!
She asks again nicely I have no fucking intention of being at a damn mall on a Sunday afternoon, let alone when I already had my first kinky plans in months, god damn it. You can meet us here and we can all ride together. I’m driving a small sedan and not my SUV fucking wonderful I thought. I warned her that I’m hungry but would go. I such a damn sucker. Fuck!
Dropping them at the door I park and run to the pretzel stand hoping they’ve added an option for valium to the menu. Yes I’d like a salted original with the super dose valium dipping sauce. After about 15 minutes I was able to be not a complete dick but had my full blown sharp edged tongue on. Any iron since I was rocking a shirt with a fat Buddha that read “I have the body of a god” Apparently the pissed off look in my eyes told the bible thumpers not to fuck with me over my semi religious themed shirt. (note to self go buy Satan shirts for the Christmas shopping season)
Then Lilly looking punk rock with her jet black hair and purple, electric blues and green streaks, and ripped skinny jeans and I went to Dicks found the folding chair section and sat in the balcony of the West County Mall watching the suburban wasteland pass us by in blissful oblivion.
Finally we headed east toward the city for dinner at a favorite Mexican place which for once was barely filled as we sat inside the open doors looking out at the patio. The Blonde and her mother splitting a pitcher of Margarita’s. Grand ma loosens up when she’s buzzed. They girls laughed for hours including the entire ride home all of them having a good time. Diva my 17 year old ever the creative prankster blocked her phone number and called me. In her deepest horror movie demon voice told me “there’s a dead hooker in the trunk of the car” to which I responded that’s OK I’ve got a rope kit in the trunk of yours so don’t open it or Grandma will be rooting through it and I’m in no mood to explain.
I looked at the clock It was 5:30 If I drove like hell I could make the last hour of the social and maybe meet a few people who went out for dinner afterwards. I decided instead to go for shaved ice. I was so damn close before as always seems to be the case I was foiled again like some witless cartoon villain.
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