Dear Lord, please keep awkward conversations at a minimum today. ~ Anonymous

My “bad” roommate is still living with me and I really want her to move out.  I overheard her today talking with a prospective landlord, which made me happy, although not too happy, as I do not trust that she will be out soon.  The truth of the matter is that I have no idea when she will move out, except that it will be sometime this year, and so I must take every day as it comes and be glad that she spends most of her time in her room.  It also reminds me of a sexually awkward conversation with my mother when I was getting ready to move into where I live now and so I will finally share a funny sexually awkward story with you all.

Probably unsurprisingly, I am into BDSM and I used to be involved with a BDSM support group.  When I broke up with my first dominant, the group was great at helping me feel more confidant as a single person trying to explore the world of bondage.  I also love rainbows and a friend from the group once gave me a flogger made out of rainbow colored yarn.  It’s pretty but not very useful, as it’s thin pieces of rope make it more of a sting-y type of pain and I prefer more of the thud-y type.  (In case you don’t know, “sting-y or thud-y?,” is a common question in the BDSM world to masochists.  I prefer a harder type of hit, because it hurts less to me and when done the right way, actually feels almost like a message.  Try it, if you do not believe me!)

I have a small file cabinet in my room and I keep the flogger in the lower drawer.  This is good, because the drawer looks boring and so other people, like parents, are unlikely to look inside.  

Time travel to three years ago:

 I am so happy because I am finally moving out of my parents’ house!  My parents had been very good to me, but it is time to go.  Hello independence!  My mom is helping me pack and I do not think to volunteer to look through my own filing cabinet….

“What’s this?” She asks, holding my flogger with the multi-colored strings in her hand.

*Oh. My. God. Does she really not know what it is? I can’t believe I have to tell her!*


“It’s a flogger,” I explain, in a quiet voice.  “I don’t really use it.”

“What do you use a flogger for?”


“It’s used in BDSM….”

In a louder voice: “Why we don’t we look through another part of the room?  I’ll take care of the filing cabinet later.”

Fortunately, my mom let it go and we continued to pack, never mentioning it between us ever again.  My mother does know that I practice Bondage, Domination, & Sadomasochism, but it’s not something we talk about.


My “bad” roommate and I barely talk and although I doubt I would find a flogger in her things, I hope I do not have to help her pack when she moves out.  I will if I have to though.  I wonder what she would do if I asked her which she liked better, sting-y or thud-y? I imagine she would want to leave even sooner – maybe there is a reason for this brightly colored flogger after all?!