Archives for posts with tag: roommates

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?!




Being in the closet sucks for the person who has to hide out of fear of rejection, but it also sucks for his/her family and friends who miss out on the precious gift of loving someone who feels safe, completely whole, and free to be who they are.  ~ Anonymous

One of my roommates has moved out.  We are sad to see her go but we must move on.  I made an ad and it was promptly answered.  One of the potential roommates came over to look at the room and we really hit it off.  We had a really pleasant conversation and she seemed like a good fit, so when she asked if there was anything else she should know, I told her about my relationship.  I told her that I am bisexual (I didn’t want to explain pansexuality) and that I have a boyfriend and a girlfriend, although I usually go over to their house to be with them.  

I didn’t think she would have a problem with me but I wanted to know for sure before she signed the lease.  She responded in a really sweet way:

Well, the good book says to love your neighbor and I figure I’ve got enough stuff of my own to worry about, that I don’t need to worry about anyone else’s.

I just wanted to give her a hug.

It’s awkward to come out like that to someone who’s practically a stranger but it can be much more awkward coming out to someone you already respect and are close to.  I laughed to myself that night about how silly it seems to be able to come out with relative ease to someone I barely know and yet still be petrified about coming out to my father. 

I am working with my therapist on how to tell my dad and brother. I know that I am probably making this out to be much more than it really is.  Unfortunately, we are not taught how to have awkward, honest conversations in school, although I think what would make America great would be for all of us to learn how to engage in thoughtful, authentic dialogue.  Now, more than ever, do we need to talk with each other in caring, attentive ways.