For every want I have I have an outlet and it’s distinct from the rest. You may think my assignments are personal, but I’ve met enough men who spread themselves across the multiple platforms for similar reasons to know I’m not alone. I can’t say I like hung men on Tinder any more than I can say I want a boyfriend on Adult Friend Finder; it doesn’t fit the audience and it elicits the wrong responses.
Each site has a specific target audience:
- eHarmony: serious relationship to marriage; deep, hearty stuff
- Match: same ^^
- OK Cupid: serious relationship to casual and fun, poly and open expansion relationships, hookups; moderately intense
- Plenty of Fish: same ^^
- Tinder: hookups, casual and ongoing friends with benefits; light and fluffy
- Bumble: same ^^
- Adult Friend Finder: hookups, kink, swinging, ongoing friends with benes, specific sexual preferences; intense and focused, yet light
- Seeking Arrangement: hookups, ongoing friends with benefits, financial wishes; intense and focused
- Collar Space: kinks, D/s, BDSM, darker side; intense, focused, serious
These are my categorizations, obviously, but I think most would agree with me that this is the basic break down. I admit to anomalies. I have friends who got married off of OKC and some who had years-long relationships off of AFF. There’s no accounting for just how you meet someone and to put blinders on to opportunity would be just plain silly.
I’ve long been clear on the silos of intent for most of these sites, but the sugar daddy site, Seeking Arrangement, was the real recent challenge. It wasn’t until I sat beautifully full of white wine next to a big, brawny country boy who wants to be my benefactor that the last piece fell into place: on that site I could be honest about my financial situation.
On AFF I can shout to the rafters my love for giant cock; on Tinder I can be obtusely flirtatious; on OKC I can hint at my yearning for something deeper; on CollarSpace I can announce my authority and stake my claim; and on Seeking Arrangement I can say that I am in need of some help.
What I find so interesting about all of this is that of all things that I admit across these different platforms — my kinks, my heart, my hopes, my sexual needs — the most intimate is my need for money. To say I don’t have enough feels like admitting to a personal failing, like it’s Dickensian England and I’ve somehow brought this upon myself by virtue of my bad bloodlines. My father was, after all, a terrible human being who lost a few fortunes in his lifetime.
But the kind man whom I sat entwined with last Tuesday, and who would eventually fill me with his happy jizz in the parking lot like we were rutting teens, held my fears gently and wouldn’t let me look away. “Hy,” he said. “I want to help.” I was unable to offer more than a tearful head nod. It’s all too humiliating, but why is that? I’m not tearful when I sit across a man I meet on AFF and say I love giant dick; bashful, perhaps, but humiliated, no.
In fact, when I think about it, admitting to my kinks and my sexual needs are the only things that don’t make me shudder and shy away. Breaching this one frontier — financial — has put an even finer point on it: I don’t do intimacy.
I don’t admit to needing love. I don’t admit to wanting love. I don’t admit to having needs. I allude to them on all those sites where it’s appropriate, but I’ve been utterly unable to make any relationship launch because the truth is I’m completely and utterly unfit for a relationship at the moment. I trust no one and myself most of all; I am incapable of choosing trustworthy people and so I will choose to remain alone and get my intimacy needs met via sex and sex only. It will be interesting to see how a financial relationship affects me since that’s more intimate than sex to me.
I’m not satisfied with this long-term, but I am aware that this is my current status: intimacy isn’t possibly and that’s ok. I’ll keep working on it and chipping away as I always do. But admitting it is the first step.
To be clear for those of you who might be wondering, the kind of sugar daddy relationship I seek is one that isn’t based on money. I want to find a wonderful friends-with-benefits who also happens to check in on my financial status and help me out when necessary. I want a man whose money is inconsequential to my feelings for him and thus far, I feel like I’ve found that in this country boy. He’s sweet, funny, sexy and totally and completely into me. He also happens to be married, which is fucking perfect (see above intimacy issues).
One of the most appalling and humbling things about Seeking Arrangement is the used car feel of it. Men messaged me and kicked my tires, asked humiliating and inappropriate questions about my libido and sexuality as if they were staffing up for their penis and when they saw my private photos of my face I never heard from them again. Apparently, I didn’t measure up.
Of course, those men opted themselves right out of my life and that’s ok, but with the exception of the men on Match, I have been found highly attractive on the other sites matching with beautiful men of all shapes and sizes. But not on SA. There I was found wholly lacking, apparently.
On CollarSpace I roll up my sleeves and put my Domme-y pants on. I have been praised for my no-nonsense profile and many have been eager to make my acquaintance. Nothing has panned out beyond some heavy texting with one and a brief text-fling with another. I am extremely cautious there.
And as I flex my muscles I’ve learned what it means for a man to theorize about his submission, but be unable to execute even the smallest of submissions. If a woman you so desperately want to dominate you gently directs you to respond to texts in a timely fashion, you do so. You don’t ignore her for 24 hours. That vanilla shit doesn’t fly.
The sub with whom I’ve been texting regularly for several weeks seemed incredible at first — he was experienced, eager to help me learn, beautiful, hung, intelligent — but he suddenly balked hours before our first meeting and proved it was too good to be true. Under the kind tutelage of my Fairy Domme-mother, Ferns, I told him my desires again and fought the urge to compromise in such a way that I would lose everything I actually wanted.
I said to him:
And I’ve thought about it. Here’s what I want: a sexy af friend I can trust AND have fun with (an occasional drink, board game, day by the pool). If you decide you’re on board with that, then let me know. I’m not really interested in investing in a back and forth waiting (and hoping) for something to change if you’re not.
It’s terrifying to attempt to dominate only to have your submissive partner pull the rug out from under you. The Neighbor was a master at that and I am ever watchful for a repeat performance.
Coming up with that response to the sub was tantamount to my new dating elevator pitch. It’s how I feel across the board and I am set free from the back and forth and negotiations I once found myself tangled in. Do or do not. There is no try.
On AFF I have found many attractive men who like my pitch. The most recent, Poppy, a tall, coffee-with-lots-of-cream colored man built like Adonis, met me on a Tuesday night. He had a winning smile and a way with winks that won me over. We fucked like animals for a couple of hours and he promised he’d host next time.
It’s almost easier on AFF than anywhere else to be myself. I can mention the D/s stuff, my kink for male bi-play, and even admit to having a broken heart. Being non-monogamous isn’t scandalous, nor is it a beacon for one-night-stands. It’s like the catch-all of the dating world.
I’ve met men there who are just re-entering the dating world and who have played there for many years. They quickly learn the dating economics of a sex site and are appreciative of a well-spoken, confident, real woman. The number of bots and scams they intercept in any given day speaks volumes to who the real customer is. On AFF, we all seem like comrades.
On Match, much like SA, I am repellent. Men I find attractive look at my profile and don’t respond to my winks or likes. How ironic that when it comes to either being sufficiently attractive or relationship material I fall so short. Trust me, the irony is not lost on me.
I have another 4 and a half months to suffer through before my membership expires. I have zero hope of meeting anyone I’m interested in there. Partly because the men who message me aren’t attractive to me and partly because I have come to fully realize my unfitness to be a partner.
Tinder has wrought much pain, frustration, and general male jokery. I’m a fetish for the under 25 set, a challenge for the under 30, and a fine piece of ass for the under 40s. It’s a melee of false promises and aggressive and ridiculous come-ons. My screenshots are proof of that. Occasionally, I meet a comparable man, such as the pretty blond artist who suavely invited me back to his place at the end of our date. I declined that night, but we will reunite at some point soon.
Bumble is no different, but there I get the added bonus of being rejected when I reach out as the rules there state the woman must make the first move. Ok, whatever.
On those sites I am known as me, the mother of Peyton, a school-aged child, a professional, a dog and cat lover. They know I cuss a lot and love to cook and, if they’re lucky, get to experience the underbelly of my public persona, the naked and writhing one.
Not everyone will have the next categories in their lives, but I have yet even more: My Instagram and Snapchat followers as well as my blog readers.
In the past I made a conscious decision to not get too involved with virtual folks who know me as Hy. It was partly part of the anonymous mechanism, partly to keep a separation of church and state. Plus, how could that work? The world is a very big place and I’m not interested in a love affair from Abu Dhabi. But lately, in the last year, I have broken down my walls and connected with many people from my Hyacinth world
I made a handful of female friends on IG who have been very influential over the past several months and I have a couple of male friends whose tumescence are always welcome messages, as are their friendly words. They know my face and my city and I am hopeful that if ever our paths cross we can finally hug hello.
I met Ben through Snapchat, though I am realizing more now than ever, what a freak chance that was. The app isn’t conducive to lasting connections; words and pics literally disappear in moments. The fact that I noticed him is a fucking miracle.
Lastly, the readers who email me via my blog email are the real MVPs. They open up about their lives, share their insights, hurts, and journeys with me. They don’t want anything in return, just to share, and I find myself often wishing they were local mates, men and women I could hug and touch and comfort. I hope they know how much they mean to me even if we never become more than just lighthouses to one another.
I must speak to 100s of people every month in some capacity or another. It’s overwhelming. At the moment I’ve shut them all down except for the occasional peek into CS and AFF; I’m focusing on just three men: Country Boy, The Artist, and Poppy. Plus any stragglers who might pop up in text that I’ve forgotten about.
I remember a time not too long ago — 20 years isn’t that long ago, right?? — when the idea of speaking to, let alone fucking, more than one person was basically unheard of. I’d meet a fella somewhere and all my attention would be focused on him until I knew whether or not it was going to work out or not.
Sometimes it took a week, sometimes it took 3 months, but I never doubted that I was the only woman in this man’s life, nor he in mine. I don’t know when distraction and inundation became the name of the game. I’m not ungrateful for the diverse opportunities to find the exact thing that I’m looking for, but it’s just too much, like listening to 5 radio stations at once and trying to enjoy yourself.
I’ve been plugged up all summer, emotionally and creatively, in large part due to the intersecting highways of dating channels. How can I keep them organized or portray the juggling act I perform each day in such a way that it resonates? How can I express my enjoyment in my aptitude? The challenge my life presents?
This way of life isn’t for everyone. It’s loud and busy, but I know which stations to turn down, which knobs to fiddle with. Currently it’s relatively quiet and peaceful, my phone is often black and when it’s alight with words they’re welcome discourses with quality people.
And at the very least I’m nothing if not organized.