5 Tools I Use to Write About Past Experiences

You may have noticed that I write a lot of personal stuff. Stuff about my sex life. Stuff about my relationships. Even stuff about my childhood.

Friends reading my work often remark that I “must have a good memory” because I’m able to recall surprisingly specific details – like the exact wording of something a partner said to me, the exact outfit I wore to a particular event, or the exact number of seconds that elapsed between text messages.

It is probably true that I have a better-than-average memory for romantic and sexual events, developed due to a combination of obsessive anxiety, an intense passion for this subject matter, and plain ol’ practice. But I also have plenty of tricks up my sleeve that help me remember details when my brain didn’t cling onto them to begin with. Here are a few resources I rely on, that you might also find useful for your personal writing…

Journal entries. I’ve journaled regularly for over 10 years, as a means of coping with feelings, processing events, and identifying patterns. My journals aren’t exhaustive – I don’t write down every single thing I did on a given day, just what felt emotionally significant to me that day – so they’re not always good for cross-referencing minute details, but they are a good record of big emotional arcs in my life.

For example, the last time I thought I might be falling in love, I went back and looked at old journal entries from previous times I’d fallen in love. I wanted to check if the “symptoms” were similar, if the timelines matched up, etc. to see if my present-day feelings were really love or more like infatuation. Nerdy, right?

My journal entries tend to contain the details that really stood out to me about a particular event – so, maybe I don’t write down the name of the specific cocktail I drank on a great date, but I am likely to record stuff like how nervous I felt, what my date’s eyes looked like, and what they wore (if I liked their outfit!). These are all useful pieces of information for a blog post or essay later on.

The “advanced search” functions on Twitter and Flickr. Searching your tweets or your backlog of images is a breeze with these two services. I tweet and take photos far more often and more exhaustively than I journal, so I’ll often search my tweets or photos if I need a small, specific piece of information.

For example, if I know I tweeted 5 minutes before a date started and then again as I was leaving the date’s house later that night, I can check the timestamps on the tweets to figure out how long we were together. I often refer to Flickr if I need to know what I was wearing on a particular day, or other visual details like what a place looked like or what lipstick I wore.

If you use Google Chrome, you can set up custom search engines to make this process even quicker. I have the short-codes “TWT” and “FLI” set up in my Chrome for Twitter and Flickr, respectively. So if I want to find a tweet of mine containing the word “party,” say, I can just type “twt party” into my address bar and hit enter – or if I want to find a Flickr photo where I was carrying my Kate Spade purse, I can type “fli Kate Spade.” It makes information-hunting much more efficient, so I don’t lose the momentum of my writing!

Text message histories. The availability of this technique depends largely on your texting medium of choice. For example, Facebook Messenger’s search function is pretty good, while the Signal app doesn’t have a search function at all (and you lose all your texts if you delete the app!). iMessage’s built-in search function is pretty terrible – it’ll only show you one result for whatever word or phrase you enter – but can work if your search term is specific and unique enough. (e.g. I had no trouble finding the conversation I wanted to find when it contained the phrase “Daddy, per se.”)

If you are the type of person who texts a close friend (or a partner) immediately after anything notable happens, texts can be a great source for your initial impressions of events. For example, when I journaled about my first time having sex with a new partner in summer 2017, I wrote at length about how romantic and beautiful the encounter was… but my texts to Bex immediately upon leaving that date tell a slightly different story: “HE IS SUCH A DOMLY SERVICE TOP AND HIS DICK IS ASTONISHINGLY GOOD!!”

Selfies. Like many millennials, I take a lot of selfies. The timestamps on them can often provide useful information if I’m writing about a particular day/event, and I also like to check what I was wearing incase that’s a detail I want to mention.

Occasionally I plumb the depths of my selfies folder when I need more subtle info, like “How long did that boob bruise last?” or “How much did that blowjob smear my lipstick?”

My sex spreadsheet. Every year since 2016, I’ve debated whether I really need to keep a sex spreadsheet for another year, and I always come to the same conclusion: yes I do, because it’s indispensable when I’m writing about sexual encounters.

My journals, texts, and tweets only contain what felt significant to me at the time; they don’t always contain the logistical facts I might need when writing about a sexual interlude down the line, like “How many orgasms did I have on May 8th, 2017?” or “How many blowjobs did I give in October of last year?” or “What sex toys did I use most with partners last summer?” You never know what kinds of details you might want to reference in a piece of writing, so I like having the flat facts at my fingertips incase I need ’em.

What do you refer to when you’re writing about the past?

Interior Dickorator: How to Make Your Home a Sex-Positive Sanctuary

They say home is where the heart is. Home is also – for many of us – where you get to be your most authentic self. And if you’re a kinky sex nerd like me, maybe that means your home is a palace of perversion.

When I moved out of my parents’ house and into my own apartment last year, one of the most exciting aspects to me of this new experience was the chance to decorate my new space exactly how I wanted to. And since both my career and my personal life are soaked in sexuality, obviously my new room quickly became the lascivious lair of my dreams.

Are you similarly committed to building a raunchy refuge? Here are some sex-positive decor suggestions you might enjoy…

Risqué prints. Look, what is even the point of having your own private space if you can’t plaster porn everywhere?! I have on my walls, for example, a glossy color print of Quinne Suicide, a Clementine Morrigan illustration of a femme in a strap-on, some postcards featuring art from vintage romance novel covers, and large medical illustrations of the vulva and internal clitoris. Other suggestions: pictures of you and your sweetheart(s), framed screenshots of significant sexts, vintage porn prints, Vargas girls posters, other pinup illustrations, dirty needlepoints from Crass Stitches, sexy stained glass pieces, Vanessa Walsh paintings. You’ll feel saucier in your space once you’re surrounded by sexy objets d’art!

Artfully-arranged condoms and lube. I firmly believe that life’s “boring” minutia doesn’t have to be boring; you can always inject a little pizzazz into the day-to-day. One way I like to do this is by displaying my condoms in a cute little basket, like a barrier buffet. Consider keeping yours in a glass vase, a painted flowerpot, a sleek Container Store solution, a colorful Caboodle, a hollowed-out 1950s music box, or whatever receptacle tugs at your heart. Likewise, you can lay out your lubes in a pleasing fashion, perhaps arranging them in ascending size order on a bedside shelf, or even pouring your fave into an automatic lube dispenser. Class up the joint and you’ll feel even better about reaching for condoms and lube when you need ’em!

Sex toys and/or kink gear on display. I have friends who store their sex toys artfully, in shoe racks or wine racks or various other inventive methods. Currently I have several impact toys hanging from adhesive plastic hooks I’ve affixed to one wall, and several leather kink items are displayed on my windowsill. My under-the-bed restraints also peek out from under my mattress at all times, a glinting glimpse of my kinky proclivities. How could you show off your prettiest sex accoutrements in your bedroom?

Sexy lighting. My friend Suz recently installed LED light strips behind her headboard, which has me thinking about what a big difference good lighting can make in a room. A Tinder hookup once said, of the too-bright overhead light in my old bedroom, “Can you turn that light off? It kind of feels like a hospital in here…” and that comment has stuck with me, inspiring me to seek out more aesthetically pleasing solutions! Currently I have a Neuma LED lamp on my dresser, which has a mode where it cycles slowly through the entire color spectrum in a slinkily seductive manner. In the past, I’ve also experimented with white fairy lights, which cast a comfortingly cozy glow. Your bedroom shouldn’t feel like a fluorescently-lit hospital room – unless you’re into medical play, I suppose!

Tempting fragrances. Assuming neither you nor your paramour(s) suffer from scent sensitivities, this can be a delicious way to add to the mood. I am a fan of Square Trade Goods scented candles, woodsy incense sticks, and diffusers that circulate essential oils throughout the room (you could even reach out to an aromatherapist for a custom blend if you’re feelin’ fancy). Kinksters, did you know Leatherstock makes leather-scented incense and candles that smell stunningly true-to-life?!

A lascivious personal library. John Waters says, “If you go home with somebody and they don’t have books, don’t fuck ’em!” I would add: if you go home with somebody and they have a lot of sex books, it’d probably be fun to fuck ’em! Some sex-nerd faves that would enrich your brain and look good on your bookshelf: Sex at Dawn, Girl Sex 101, Becoming Cliterate, The Killer Wore Leather, and Sex with Shakespeare.

Sex-themed knickknacks. I have so many of these! A 3D-printed internal clitoris on your desk is a great conversation-starter, for example. I store my pens in a Museum of Sex mug that says “Sex Makes Me Thirsty,” which is a bit of an eyebrow-raiser. Some sex toy companies even make miniature versions of their dildos; flag your phallus fandom with flair!

How do you like to flag your sex-nerdiness through decor choices?

Behind the Seams: Fetishwear & Mean Girls

September 29th, 2018. A new-ish dungeon space in my city was having a hypnokink play party, and my Sir encouraged me to go. This is normally the kind of thing that would activate my anxiety a lot – and, indeed, it did – but, as per usual, having been instructed to do it anyway by my beloved dom made me feel better equipped to overcome my fears.

The event dress code said “fetishwear or all-black,” which I and the femme friend I invited both found daunting yet doable. I got dolled up, then trekked uptown to meet my friend walking-distance from the venue so we could head over together.

It ended up being pretty low-key and fun. We’re both on the shy side, so we didn’t play with anyone or even really talk to anyone, but we had a lot of fun sitting on the sidelines and catching up on each other’s lives while intermittently watching some of the scenes that happened. We didn’t see any hypno, but then, it can be a tough kink to spot. Instead, several impact scenes unfolded in front of us, including one that also featured rope suspension, forced orgasm play, and a mega-hot domly dom in a suit. Woof.

At the end of the night, I took a bus home, got McDonald’s as per my Sir’s instructions, and told him all about the party over the phone. Pretty sweet night out, all in all.

What I’m wearing:
• Hair in little buns
• Black skater dress – H&M
Pink leather chest harness – Stockroom
• Pink and white striped kneesocks – American Apparel
• Black leather Frye harness boots
• Eyeshadow and lipstick – the Sugarpill Oh Honey! collection


October 2nd, 2018. I wore this to Tell Me Something Good, the monthly sexy storytelling event I love so much. My Sir chose my outfit, as he often does when I go to events.

The theme was open, so the stories told that night were a wild grab bag: a first sapphic experience, a chance meeting on a Megabus, ableism on dating apps, awkward Pride celebrations with homophobic parents, being outed by nosy bosses, and more. I sipped a double whiskey on the rocks and laughed/gasped all the way through the night.

I told a story too: the tale of my first knifeplay scene with Dick, way back in December of last year. I figured it was an appropriately scary story for this October event. I can’t believe I’d never told that one at TMSG before!

What I’m wearing:
• Orangey-red heart-print dress – CowCow
• Black Danier leather jacket
• Blue suede collar – L’Amour-Propre
• Black leather Coach Station handbag – vintage on eBay many years ago
• Black leather Frye engineer boots
• Revlon Fire & Ice lipstick (a classic, a legend)


October 3rd, 2018. October 3rd is Mean Girls Day and it was also a Wednesday – so, obviously, I wore pink.

My regular Frye harness boots had cracks in the soles so egregious that my socks got soaked when I walked in them on rainy days, so I’d set them aside for the time being. That meant that my rainbow glitter Doc Martens got to see the light of day again.

I wore this outfit to a local café to do some dayjob work, and then back home to write this post.

What I’m wearing:
• Pink T-shirt – Gap (it needs to be ironed!)
• Black Danier leather jacket
• Blue sparkly heart necklace – Tarina Tarantino (current fave jewelry item)
• Black leggings – H&M
• Rainbow glitter Dr. Martens – Urban Outfitters a while ago

Monthly Faves: Steel Wands & Sweet Words

Hope you had a pleasantly scary Halloween! Here are some things I enjoyed in October…

Sex toys

• We-Vibe sent me their Anniversary Collection and I adore it. It contains updated (and sparkly!) versions of two of their best vibes, the Tango and the Sync. The included case works for both storage and charging, and makes this duo super travel-friendly – always an important consideration for someone in a long-distance relationship like me.

• I’ve owned my Njoy Pure Wand for years but it deserves just as much revere now as it did when I first bought it. Truly, if you like intense G-spot or prostate stimulation, there is nothing better. Also, adorably, my partner bought his own recently, so sometimes we each separately use ours while having phone sex. Aww.

• Speaking of Njoy: I feel like I mention the Eleven every five seconds on this blog, but like… seeeeriously… it is quite good. It’s also integral to the story of how my Sir and I met (our first contact of any kind was him tweeting a link to my own Eleven review at me) so it’s, um, very romantic when he pounds me with it.

Fantasy fodder

• At one point this month, my partner – an actual living kink genius – sent me the following text: “What if the We-Vibe Anniversary Collection was actually sent to you as a medical device to treat your obvious hysteria symptoms, and you have to call in and speak to a doctor over the phone who can supervise your treatment by controlling the device and monitoring your progress?” We did a “hysteria hotline” roleplay over the phone that night – not a new thing for us, but the inclusion of the remotely controllable We-Vibe Sync was a new element of it – and it was so hottttt, helpppp.

• My monthly writing assignment for my Sir involved making some recommendations of porn and erotica for him, and one of my selections was Sherlock fanfiction story where John has a hypnosis kink and Sherlock takes it upon himself to play with this newfound knowledge. I have a long-standing weakness for subby-John/dommy-Sherlock stories, and this one paints a particularly excellent picture of what trance feels like and why it can be so hot.

• Still giggling over this story: in a cab ride back from a Halloween party, I told my Sir I desperately had to pee, and he (jokingly?) suggested we do a watersports scene upon arriving back at our hotel. I told him he wouldn’t be able to get all his clothes off fast enough to account for the urgency of the situation, and he was basically like, “Try me.” Once we were in our room, he shed his clothes faster than I’ve ever seen him do it, and laid down in the shower for me before I was even half out of my dress. While my emotions in the moment were a mix of anguish and amusement, in retrospect it was a surprisingly hot experience; unbridled enthusiasm from a sexual partner often is.

Sexcetera

• Some of my work elsewhere this month: I read my review of the teddy bear vibrator at the Bed Post variety show. I reviewed my favorite band’s new album, while meditating on depression, toxic masculinity, and men’s inner lives. (Please check out the album; it’s divine.) On our podcast, Bex and I discussed sex education, roleplay, polyamory myths, and fear play, and I interviewed my pal Dick Wound about knives, death, sweat, and all kinds of weird shit.

• Excited to announce I’ll be teaching/speaking/reading at this year’s Naked Heart festival! It’s coming up soon; grab your pass online, or you can get tickets to individual sessions at the door.

• Hey, thanks for the outpouring of love when my Sir decided to come out as my Sir! We were both thrilled and relieved that the reaction was so positive. Taking this risk together made me feel even more in love with him and even safer in this wonderful relationship, which was already one of the best ones I’ve ever been in.

Femme stuff

• I got my legs waxed for the first time this month! Actually, it was my first time getting anything waxed. My technician asked me if I had a decent pain tolerance, and I was like, “Uhhh… Yeah.” It wasn’t too bad at all, and I had silky-smooth legs for a little while. Would do again!

• If you’re in the centre of the Venn diagram composed of “people who like spooky things” and “people who live in Toronto or are familiar with historical Toronto landmarks,” you probably need this “Honest Dead’s” shirt. Every time I wear it (in Toronto, at least), I inevitably get asked multiple times where it’s from.

• As I told you on Monday, I have a new collar! I want to give an extra shout-out to Tal at L’Amour-Propre for being so accommodating of our special request vis-à-vis material. Tal is the actual best and I highly recommend their products!

Media

Pinegrove’s new album Skylight is gorgeous (with caveats about the lead singer’s problematic behavior). The refrain of the title track – “Whatever you’re feeling is alright… Whatever you’re feeling is natural” – felt particularly needed.

• I read a lot of books this month, and their common theme seemed to be “shitty men interfering with brilliant women.” Sigh. What else is new. All of them were good, though: The Wife is about a woman who decides to stop giving her husband a free pass to be terrible after decades of marriage; The Real Lolita is the tale of the pedophilic kidnapping that supposedly inspired Nabokov’s masterpiece; Our Kind of Cruelty is about an obsessive love that turns into a sick delusion; and Gone Girl is about… well, if you’ve never heard of Gone Girl, you should really watch the movie and/or read the book, stat.

• My Sir recommended we watch some of James Acaster’s comedy specials together this month and we loved them. What a strange man with a strange sense of humor.

Little things

Eating chicken noodle soup while paging through The Science of Orgasm. Getting slightly better at rejecting creeps when necessary. Interviews with articulate, generous kinksters. Thigh bruises from sweet and loving impact scenes with my Sir over the phone. Seeing Dick get a lap dance at a sex club (OMG) and then hanging out in a hot tub with Lav. When autocorrect knows me too well. Max telling me stories from touring with his band (“I don’t feel too good…”). Kissing Sir in between songs at a Hippo Campus concert and keeping my hand in his hoodie pocket. Knowing he still loves me even though he made me laugh while I was eating a French fry and standing over him so I accidentally spat some potato onto his jeans (“CLOSE YOUR MOUTH, little one!!”). Autumn daiquiris. A literally perfect truffle risotto at the NoMad (and also truffle mac and cheese the night before; give me all the truffles). Boys in bowties. Phrenology skulls (the best creepy decor!). Watching horror movies with my family. Attending a Halloween party with some of my favorite goofs. Feeling like part of a community.

Blue Suede; He Stayed

I’m a sucker for physical objects that represent relationships. I still occasionally wear an ex-boyfriend’s boxers, clutch a stuffed bunny that a beau bought me when I can’t sleep, sigh contentedly at an emerald ring gifted by an ex-girlfriend on our first Valentine’s Day. These things mean something to me, even when the relationships from which they surfaced no longer do. What they mean is this: I loved and was loved. It happened. There is physical proof.

But these are all objects which outlasted relationships. It’s rare, in my life, for a relationship to outlast an object it contains.

When my Sir bought me my first collar – not my first-ever collar, you understand, but the first collar I’d worn as an agreed-upon, mutually meaningful symbol of a D/s dynamic folded into a romance – no discussion was had about how long we foresaw the object lasting, and what we would do if and when it needed replacing. The closest we got was a conversation about what we would do if I accidentally lost my collar: dropped it down a subway grate, forgot it at a restaurant, lost sight of it in a TSA tussle. We agreed that we would be sad in such a case, but that we would soldier on and get another one, because it was the symbolism of the item, not the item itself, that ultimately mattered.

“I don’t think we would get the same one; I would want to get one that was a better reflection of our relationship at that time,” my Sir told me, and those words stuck in my head. He, with his history of fewer but much longer relationships than I had had, believed in our future – in our ability to persevere and grow as a couple. It had been so long since I had done such a thing that I hardly believed it was still possible for me.

Our first collar was suede with a silver heart at the front. We chose it after multiple long slogs through the kinky corners of the internet, fixating on it for its bright cobalt color and its simple, versatile aesthetic. Weirdly, although I knew from past experience the kinds of things that can happen to suede when it gets wet and well-worn, it didn’t occur to me that such things would happen to this collar, too. It seemed as though the symbolic importance of the item would permeate its pores and prevent any harm from befalling it. The night he gave it to me, I wore it to a crowded concert in chilly New York, double-dousing it in sweat, snow, and maybe some stray droplets of bourbon as we moshed and kissed and laughed.

It didn’t take long for the royal blue suede to darken to a formidable navy, especially given that I tended to wear the collar in sweaty situations: sex with my Sir when he was nearby, or nervewracking days when he was far away and I needed some encouragement to get through my work. The collar’s color changed so much that one of its makers remarked on it with alarm when he saw it on me at an industry event. I just laughed; I liked owning such a tangible sign of my relationship’s cozy comfort, its establishedness. But part of me missed that bright blue.

At some point, my Sir and I began discussing the possibility of replacing my collar. We were both, at once, sad and excited about it; the beginning of a new chapter inevitably also brings the end of another. Much like trading in the irrational distractibility of New Relationship Energy for something warmer and sturdier, it felt bittersweet but like a definite step forward, one we wanted to take.

We once again combed the internet for collars. We looked at fancy ones, cutesy ones, over-the-top ones. There were a few criteria: it had to be blue, it had to have a heart on it, and it had to be comfortable enough for all-day wear but easy to take off quickly, because I don’t wear it on a 24/7 or even everyday basis. It was surprisingly hard to find collars that fit these parameters and weren’t ugly as fuck, so once again, we gravitated to that L’Amour-Propre collar we’d chosen in the first place.

I thought it would work better for our purposes if it was regular leather – as opposed to suede – so my Sir reached out to the company to see if they could make that happen for us. They had to visit their leather supplier and pick out a piece for us, which they were happy to do. We pored over the one photo they sent us of the leather, trying to discern whether it was perfect or not quite right. We trusted the process. We started getting excited.

It was easier than I expected to transfer the psychic energy of one collar into another. It helped that we stuck to traditions from last time (we earth signs love our rituals and routines). Like our first collaring, the second one happened on the night of a Hippo Campus concert; my Sir pulled the beautiful piece of blue leather out of an elegant watch case he’d stored it in; he stood behind me as I knelt, and slid it around my neck. We went and looked at in together in the mirror. Tears may have been shed.

My new collar hasn’t had time yet to absorb the scent of my skin, my sweat, and my perfume. It hasn’t yet molded to the shape of my neck, tarnished from use, or rippled on the inside. But it still carries with it the weight of my relationship, my D/s dynamic, my love, so it’s more valuable to me than many objects I’ve had for years.