the girl from enchilada 🌻🌺

my kinks and my own predilections are utter torture for me, especially my main kinks. one thing that i was recommended to do is ask myself what’s the worst thing that could happen with them at the helm.

the worst thing that could happen with my belly fetish leading the way.

well, i was a fat girl once. being fat is not healthy. i started losing weight because i was starting to experience “symptoms” of obesity (edema in my feet, digestive issues, migraines every week, pain in my back, heart palpitations). you know, you get too big and it’ll start catching up with you, especially if you’re older *looks at alex, and we all know how much i fret about his health and i’m glad that he’s only got a tummy as of late, and i’m also glad chuck and eric both have lost some weight, too*

i was chubby for a while before i started to get really heavy, though, and it actually wasn’t too terrible. it did have its drawbacks, like i couldn’t sit cross-legged (whereas i do all the time after my weight loss) and it was kind of a bitch to exercise, too.

i have this lingering feeling within me, too, that i could very easily take it too far, because i usually do. i have a tendency to get carried away with things.

i also live in a world that is absurdly fatphobic. it doesn’t matter if you’re a hater of some sort, if you’re fat or at least have kind of a little belly? oh, no. worst most reprehensible thing ever. you’ve failed as a person.

this’ll go hand in hand with this next one, too, and i can explain that:

the worst thing that could happen with my long-hair fetish at the helm:

so apparently if you’re a guy with long hair, you’re considered effeminate, and there’s this unspoken belief that if you’re a woman attracted to men with long hair, you’re a closet lesbian (yeah, i don’t get it, either).

i found a post on fetlife earlier where op said that they’d take a chubby guy with a beard and tattoos over a skinny pretty boy any day, and i chimed in with “give him a mane of long hair as well” (although if i’m honest, if being into thrash metal and grunge for as long as i have has done for me, it’s that i love skinny boys just as much), and op pretty much brushed me aside.

i have long believed that long hair on men is a symbol of masculinity, because this is backed up by history: look at all of the native american warriors, the mongols (even though genghis was a bastard), the chinese, the samurai, the aboriginals, the tribes in africa, jesus and all the tribes of ancient israel and the middle east, the vikings, the aforementioned thrash and grunge boys… they all had/still have long hair. and yet, i still feel my back being pressed up into a corner because short hair and even no hair has been the public taste for decades, and long hair is considered deviant. shit, when i even see shoulder length hair on a guy like alex, i feel attracted to him and at the same time, i feel completely exposed and vulnerable, like there’s no way i can enjoy him because he’s not “man enough” and i have to prove my attraction to him. i have to prove that i’m attracted to men.

speaking of alex…

it’s a big deal for me to confess my crush on him because i’ve not only hardly experienced such rapturous feelings for someone else before, but because i wonder about his reputation. not so much mine, especially since my career’s pretty much ruined and over at this point, but since the post™️ back in february, i’ve wondered about the general reaction to it. i admit that i haven’t looked at it—and as far as i know, only one person has blocked me, and it wasn’t the park slop(e) cats account (surprisingly)—but his continued (and often quick) interactions with me tell me something about him. i’m thinking—i’m thinking, anyway—there was probably a huge fight between him and m*ddy, and he never mentioned me by name (those venus in scorpio men, istg: if they like you, they’ll protect you in any way). and then they made up, but… after witnessing my own parents argue as much as they did growing up, i can tell there’s some residual anger and resentment in there, especially since he seems a bit “dustier” than usual and not smiling as much as he used to… but it’s not directed at me, per se, even though i still feel like i’m doing something bad just by having a crush on him and admitting to it and speaking out against ~such an amazing woman~. that’s literally why it took me so long to say anything: i had already been predisposed to ostracizing, and i knew that if i said anything right away, i feared that it would fall on me again.

receiving hate mail for my crush on ben has a lot to do with it, too. i mean it, i would get literal hate, abusive messages, for liking him as much as i did.

i know he’s made himself clear that he’s no angel—plus, i’ve known from day one that this is a real flesh and blood man i’m talking here, but he’s still good in my eyes. it’s always the one room in the house that’s always warm; it’s always the stairwell back at the old house i used to live in, with the full sunlight and warmth even in the winter. i still have that feeling hanging over me that i could be the thing that kills his reputation. this being said, i’m glad i’m putting things to bed here because i don’t want the public to know about my encounters with him, or with eric for that matter. at least not yet, anyway.

(by the way, i’ve long made peace with the fact that my art is not from me “trying to prove my attraction”, but rather it’s just a demonstration of my attraction. that’s all it is.)

the worst thing that could happen if my attraction to intelligence was revealed:

oh, god. where do i even start. we live in a post-literate society now. i see way more “i’ll take kindness over intelligence” now probably than ever. my experience in engineering school and the big bang theory have both showed me that smart guys can be as misogynistic as jocks and meatheads—though alex, and really any of those thrasher and grunge guys, has showed me the complete opposite. but regardless, if anything, being intelligent is something of an insult now, and we live in a country that is ruled by an administration that could very easily go by way of pol pot and kill you if you’re a woman who even so much as wears jeans.

so basically, the worst-case scenarios for my main kinks include death, and also humiliation and isolation. the worst-case scenario for my crush on alex seems to have been averted, as far as i know, anyway. for all i know, maddy could be out to get me (then again, after reading her blog a few years back, she’s not that smart. i also caught her lying a number of times. not that smart, but is a bonafide liar and a manipulator. someone who lies and manipulates like she does is bound to have something in that cranium. alex seriously needs to channel his inner dragonlord from that gray streak and knock her down, before she comes after me. before she does something seriously destructive to him or to a cat. even though i’m more than happy to channel my inner dragonlord myself—yes, i’m listening to them right now). that’s not why i’m leaving, by the way. no, i’m leaving because i don’t want to feed the machine any more than it already has taken from me as well as the entire internet.

I was debating whether I had been wanting to join for about two years because I did kinktober in 2022 and I realized that I was way kinkier than I had originally thought. Kinktober 2023, I would just rather forget about because I was basically humiliated and abandoned by a community I thought was cool with it all, and instead, I realized that the kink writing “community” (on tumblr, anyway) gives more fucks about popularity and who can be the “freakiest” (read: write the creepiest, smarmiest, most disgusting and boring missionary sex you can think of) than actually exploring kink and sexuality as a whole. I finally pulled the trigger because it was either continue to beat my head against the wall or do something about it.

2024 and 2025 were particularly brutal years for me, between my mom getting sick, our nearly losing our house and our eventually leaving the house because we were basically living in squalor and in the middle of nowhere, and my realization that my crush might be in an abusive relationship, so I came here with one thought in mind and that was to have fun. To “have a good time”, as I usually say.

And. 

Well.

This has been probably the longest year of having joined a website for me, ever. You know how you see people going on about how time is going by “too quickly”: it’s been the complete opposite for me, and I don’t know if it’s just being here or the fact that I’m a very tactile, hands-on person, and going analog and experiencing new things will cause time to slow down to a crawl.

But I guess I’m just a lot more cautious than most because I came on here and I immediately froze. “Start your journey“, I was told. My dislike of the extreme overuse of the word “journey” aside, I stare at blank documents on my laptop and in my notebooks all the time, how hard could it be? Several times I have thought, “jesus christ, what do you even do here? Just post tits and dicks? That’s kind of boring, and admittedly lame.” If that gets you off, fine, but I find it really boring because when you come to a place about kinks and fetishes, there’s an expectation of sorts.

I began listing off my kinks and I immediately felt vulnerable. That’s always been an issue with me: feeling vulnerable and exposed, and I never believed that that feeling would be so accentuated with me as it has since joining. I read about people joining here and in the span of a year, it’s like they’ve healed. Hasn’t happened with me. In fact, I feel like I haven’t improved at all, and I’m starting to think I don’t actually belong here because I haven’t made any new friends, I feel incredibly isolated, I actually don’t feel any worse or any better prior to joining, and if anything, my relationship with my sexuality has gone nowhere. 

I don’t belong in any art or writing community, what makes anyone think I’d belong here?

Several times I’ve thought of jumping ship from here. I got really close to doing it just a week ago.

I kept coming back for two reasons, actually. The first is because the proverbial island is rapidly shrinking (i.e., websites and apps are becoming increasingly sanitized, predisposed to censorship and anti-NSFW policies, and my art, which has always had a sensual air to it, is getting a lot more risqué). The second is just that: I wanted to get a lot more risqué. I wanted to relax more this year, exercise more, listen to more music that’s sensual and sexy and gets my hips moving, and nudge that part of me out more, especially as I had always had this really screwed up relationship with my sexuality: I know what I like and what I want to see but I don’t like sharing it with anyone and the thought of doing that makes me feel so uncomfortable.

I’m so nervous at the prospect of flirting with someone I have a crush on, too. I may seem confident when I do it, but I’m like Harrison Ford in the Indiana Jones movies, or Courage the Cowardly Dog: the brave guy who’s actually really scared shitless and acts by letting the primal feeling drive me.

In fact, I’d rather cut my own throat than share what I want with anyone. Normies are apparently everywhere, so what makes me think someone will want to know that my eyes wander down to your belly and I want to see you donned in white silk with the top three buttons undone?

Speaking of, I can’t say how many times I’ve looked for something on here and I’m faced with content that has absolutely nothing to do with what I’m looking for. I have literally lost count how many times this had happened. I had this exact problem on tumblr when I’d look for something pertaining to my kinks: I’ll see a piece of writing that I think is going to scratch my itch and then something will happen that just completely ruins it and I’m no longer turned on. The same story applies to here: I’ll scour the photos in a tag and find something that piques my interest, and I go and look and—oh. Eh.

Or, I go and look and… oh, no. No, no, no, go back, go back.

Maybe I’m just picky, I’ll admit that. That’s something I’ve always been guilty of in this department. I’ve often wondered if I’m on the asexual spectrum for this reason, that I need an emotional connection to someone before I can feel something. Turns out, I actually don’t: I have found people on here who are attractive, and if anything, I’ve confirmed to myself something I’ve suspected since I was a teen, and that’s the fact I’m pansexual/on the bisexual spectrum—albeit with a shitload of difficulty. I look around and see people comfortable in their sexuality and I literally can’t relate. I have this persistent feeling that no one will accept me because of my sexuality: I tried reaching out to people whom I believed were friends when I needed someone to talk to and I got brushed off, what makes me think that this side of me will be supported?

This has made my mental health so much worse, too. I don’t feel supported, I have not been met with floods of kindness, I am really struggling to find this “really amazing community” that I was promised… I don’t know what the fuck anyone is talking about.

The relationship with my body is… somewhat better, but it also isn’t. I follow some women who are on the heavier side, which is something I used to be for years and now I shed 130 pounds and I’m almost skinny by comparison, even though I’m not skinny: I still have curves, a thick waist, and a little belly, but by comparison, anyway. Even when I was upwards of 200 pounds, i had this same problem: ten years ago, at 23, I was thick and full in shape, like a big hourglass, and I would get very little attention for my curves or even my breasts. It’s always either fat women or skinny women, and no in-between or someone like me.

I’ve gotten a lot mouthier since joining, and I’ve always been on the “somewhat” side of opinionated: I’ve always seen myself as someone who speaks from the heart than anything. I think it just could be a reaction to the times, to everyone being so locked into their own dogmas that it becomes truth to them and they end up rotting from the inside out (George Carlin was right about so much), and my flat out refusing to let things sit in my chest because I have always preferred to act than sit back and ask “why didn’t anyone do anything?” afterwards like so many do. But I blame my digging into myself for this at the end of it, and nope, sorry, it has yet to give me the “right” people.

So much for relaxing, am I right.

Uncovering all of this has felt like unearthing an aquifer buried under bedrock, and yet I don’t think the aquifer carries a lot of water. I don’t masturbate a lot because I have a hang-up about that, and when I do, it’s more about touching my whole body rather than my breasts or my lips, and I really wish this was emphasized more on here. I experience thoughts and I get frustrated because I can’t find anything that gets me off, and I have to find my way out myself, be it exercising really good and hard or drawing something erotic.

I seem undersexed and disgruntled but it’s because I have so much more sexual energy running through me than I ever realized. It sounds contradictory when I mention the fact that I’ve never had a sexual relationship before, but it’s true, and I have very specific tastes, which is something I’ve known for a long time as well. 

I don’t want to just see someone’s incredibly huge dick (by the way, is it just me, or does literally every guy on here have an incredibly large schlong with wrinkly balls. It’s so bizarre and at this point, it beckons more of an eye roll out of me than feeling randy, even as a pansexual woman with a preference for men). Can you stimulate my mind as well? What do you look like wrapped in leather or lace or silk? Can you strip for me? Can you be more sensual for me, like can you pose and show me how your body looks? Are you okay with some random woman flirting with you?

I’m not saying all of this for you to pity me. Just want to make that clear. And I have never wanted anyone’s pity, either. It’s just overwhelming if I’m honest, and my honesty has gotten rather brutal as well.

I don’t know where to go from here or who to talk to about all of this, and at this point, I’ve been likening my sexuality to a pilot light: it’s actually always on even though it doesn’t seem like that, and more so once my tastes and my kinks come into play.