Craig’s List Rewind (JM Reunion)

Craig’s List Rewind (JM Reunion)

Back in November, I was a little bored. And I wanted to try to make some extra money. So I planted an experiment on Craig’s List. Perhaps I could seriously make some cash, on my own time, dominating men outside of the skanky dungeon environment. I would just need one or two decent clients who had some money and wouldn’t mind spending it on me. I figured, what could it hurt to put an ad out there? If nothing else, it would make a great story.

This is the first ad I posted:

(women seeking men) Are you a kinky guy with money to burn?
Looking for a mutually beneficial relationship. Sexy, intelligent, naturally dominant female seeks play partner. Not a pro, just want to practice with someone who understands the value of my time.

You must be sexy, communicative, intelligent, well-groomed and polite.

Have I piqued your interest? Good. Get in touch for more information.

In retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have used the term “play partner.” I didn’t know better.

Within five minutes I got like 30 responses. It was like I had fucking hit the jackpot. My BlackBerry was lit up and blinking nonstop. I was actually going to start a blog to just document all the random fucks who wrote me, wanting to be dominated. I was already intrigued.

After weeding out the people who were idiots at first glance, poor spellers, and those thinking I was soliciting sex, I decide to start meeting some of these guys. In public, of course. JM was among the first.

He’s 26, white, and sends me a photo of himself wearing a rugby shirt. Oh man, this is going to be interesting. A frat boy. We go back and forth a bit, he describes some of his fantasies. We decide to meet at Revival Bar around Union Square.

He gets me wine. As he should. He’s wearing Chucks and has red hair. I question him on this as his photo clearly showed he had brown hair. No, he shakes his head. I have red hair. It’s short and he looks so clean cut. He played for the US Lacrosse team, apparently.

The wine is helping because I’m fucking nervous. What the hell do I know about doing this kind of shit? I didn’t even think it would get this far. My only experience is working in a commercial dungeon in Midtown. A kinky sorority house was what that was. Fun times with the girls, but the den father was a creep with a fetish for young Asian chicks. The place got shut down shortly after someone went unconscious from suspension during the overnight shift.

Anyway back to JM. The turning point came when he leaned over and asked me, “so what’s a nice Jewish girl like you doing something like this?”

He’s funny.

Turns out the guy is also Jewish and from Long Island. He’s sick of dating J-Date girls. He sells fancy men’s Italian shoes in a boutique in the Upper East Side. Upon hearing this my eyes roll in the back of my head. He’s asking me questions about life in general, nothing too personal, and he’s making me laugh.

JM and I see each other frequently after that for a bit. He doesn’t pay me because, I don’t know, we’re dating? Are we dating? I have no idea. We fuck around some (without the fuck) … I duct tape him to a chair one night. He takes me to nice restaurants in the Village. He’s funny and a prankster. Full of shit. Eccentric. A hustler. Tells me he wears velour track suits. Talks to me about his family. I mean, he’s likable. Even though he lifted a girl’s profile off of Myspace and pasted it on Craig’s List as his own. And even though he admitted that the girl’s boyfriend emailed him and forced him to take it down.

I gave him shit about that. A lot of shit. It was unbelievable. Knucklehead.

I take him to the movies one day to see “Milk.” Perfect for a straight dude. At the end of the film he starts to walk out, leaving his popcorn bag and soda cup behind. I’m like, yo, what are you doing? take your trash! So he does and we walk out.

Later he says that the fact that I told him to pick up his trash turned him on. And it especially turned him on that it was in the movie theater. What? I’m baffled. Then he has an idea: what if the next time we go to a movie, I put a collar and leash on him and at the end of the movie ordered him to pick up everybody’s trash in the theater? He started to get fixated on what the theater staff would say, how they would look at him, what the other patrons would think. I’m laughing because I don’t think he’s serious.

But he is. And he wants it videotaped. From all angles, with me yelling at him in the process. This is his idea. And I even got two dudes I know to offer to help. We really did have a serious discussion about it one day. I wish I could say this happened. I really fucking do.

But JM bailed.

The last time I really hung out with him was January, I think.

So it had been a while since I’d seen him. He emailed me a while back and texted me shortly thereafter. He emailed me today and wanted to get together. I was in Union Square so we ended up having a reunion.

Of course he fills me in on his latest antics … his move from the East Village to Hell’s Kitchen, and tells me his apartment will be free for 10 days, would I want to use it to dominate men? Charge them $150. His cut? $50. His friend Franco is starting a foot fetish establishment. Apparently he used to run an escort service. JM spent some time in Puerto Rico with the boys. He had a mini stroke on the plane ride home from too much cocaine.

He’s back on J-Date, checking out girls from Long Island who ask if he has a car. He’s still tickled by the movie theater idea – though he knows he’s lost his chance with me.

He walks me to the subway. I’m toasted. One glass of wine is too much for me these days. I tell him I’ll let him know about using his space. I can think of worse ideas …

Surviving my First 10K

Surviving my First 10K

I’ve been up since 5:30AM, jacked on adrenaline anticipating what it would feel like to run 10K or 6.2 miles. I wanted to be in Central Park by 8:15AM so I could meet my team mates (Team Jack, of Jack Rabbit Sports, a retail store in Park Slope and Manhattan) and get a pep talk. I rode the subway alone, iPod buds in my ears, favorite mix relaxing and preaching to me at the same time … I’ve only been running since September but after that first Beginner I class ended, I knew I wanted to do it again – just not in the dead of winter. I’m hardcore, but not that hardcore. So, I waited for the spring offering but upped the ante and went for the second level of the Beginning I class.

Fast forward to now. I’ve never run a 10K. That’s a lot of running. I know how it feels to run around Prospect Park, which is 3.3 miles, and how hard it is to motivate up the hills, to go with your body and talk your mind out of laziness. I have no grasp of how marathoners do it … my colleague ran the NY Marathon in November, and though she happily got engaged at the end of it, she’s still gimpy from fucking up her knee. Body issues aside, psychologically preparing yourself for that kind of physical challenge IS the challenge. Because getting through any race can be brutal.

Today was brutal. But I was completely charged up from taking it easy all week. My goal was simple: I didn’t want to walk. I would slow myself down as much as I needed to, but I didn’t want to walk any distance. And, I’m proud to say, I didn’t. I did slow down when I hit the watering stations because I needed fluids … even though it was only 69 degrees it felt a lot hotter. My instructor told me I was going to be hot in all black and pants. Still, I’m not a shorts wearer and I ain’t starting now.

The Mini 10K has been going on for a while, and is all women. They call it mini, not to be sexist, but because apparently a pantyhose company sponsored it for many years … get it, pantyhose, mini skirts … yeah cute, I know. Anyway, it didn’t matter to me … this was the finale to my class and of course I was in …

Upon walking into the park I see a broken keychain in the shape of a 3. My lucky number. 3 Prong. I know it’s going to be a good race, regardless of what happens.

We line up according to what we put down for pace per mile. I reported 10:50, and got a pink bib. Some woman sang the Star Spangled Banner and then the gun went off … we got going slow at first because we’re waiting for everybody to move forward. Then it’s on … the race, it’s sunny, warm and I’m just thinking about how I want a tan. People are cheering us on and I’m feeling good. Before I know it, the mile one marker is ahead of me and I’m like, “OK, only five more to go.”

I don’t know anyone around me. I lost the two women from my class I lined up with and I don’t care. I actually prefer to run solo, though do think talking with people at random increments does help make time go faster. For me, though, I concentrate on my breathing, I have to breathe evenly and calmly and having some conversation distracts me from focus. I just keep going. I see a woman to my left knock down an orange cone … a little later a women to my right just takes a huge digger on the grass. All the women around make sure she’s OK, but don’t exactly stop and she gets right on up … I see older women, women on crutches, women of all sizes, moving their bodies and just doing it on this early Sunday morning. My Ironwoman instructor was right: this IS inspiring.

Somewhere along mile 3 I start getting a pain in my side. It’s weird and I’ve never experienced it before. All I can point to is my speed because I do feel like I’m going at a faster pace than usual. I just talk to my side and stomach and tell it nice things. Like, stomach, yo, think about the brunch we’re going to have when this is all done. Like side, you work so hard, just a little more and we’ll be done, we can do it! It seems to work or I, at least, ignore it now. I grab a cup at a watering table and put the liquid to my mouth and realize it’s gatorade. Yuck! The sugar gives me a slight headache now to contend with. But the electrolytes and the fact that I ran under a sprinkler give me an added burst of energy and I’m almost done with mile 4.

At this point, I can taste the finish. I’m not walking though my side hurts. I’m not walking though my legs are getting tired. I’m not walking. I will realize my goal and I will totally relish and enjoy the bragging rights when this crazy shit is through.

The hills on this course are baby, but I can feel them. It’s such a beautiful metaphor for life, if I can get cheesy for a minute. Here I am, amazing, supportive people all around me, but it’s only me that can take it forward … the hills slow me down, but make me even more persistent to reach my goal … and then when I reach the pinnacle of the hill and I feel the pavement lead me downhill, I can just go with the flow and enjoy the natural push …

When I see the mile 5 sign I know it’s almost over … people on the sidelines are cheering and I am so grateful for them. I have a little over a mile to go …. I straighten up, the ends of my hair are wet in my ponytail and bouncing into my naked arm so it feels like little shocks going through my system … I’m ready for this to be over … I continue to go at my stable pace … I’m on target with time at every mile mark I pass and I’m not even trying … I hear a woman say upon hitting the 800M mark, “that doesn’t make me feel better, it’s a half mile more …” I’m grateful for her complaint because now I know where I’m at. And then I hit 6.

Mile 6 I start feeling shaky, like, nervous for the finish line. I’m so there. The adrenaline is pulsing through my body and my endorphins are carrying me now. The crowd is rowdier over here. I have a fear I won’t make it there so I step it up. At the 200M mark I can see the finish line and out of nowhere I just start sprinting. My head is pounding and my stomach is clenched in stitches but I just fucking go for it. I have no idea what happened or how I pulled this extra energy out of me. I’m telling women in front of me, “right behind you! right behind you!” as I pass them on the left. I’m running fast. I see my friend, Jess, and give her a high five. A few more steps and I cross the line. Relief.

My breath comes back to me in tumbles and I am dizzy. I walk to some water and am seriously all smiles even though I wanted to just lay down on the pavement. My body is pulsating and throbbing and I’m just hot and sweaty and Jess gives me a hug … I came in at 1:04:57. Pretty amazing, considering that’s a 10:28 mile. Compared to my first 5K I ran in November, at 45:29 with a mile pace of 11:22, that’s a huge improvement. Then I remember what I saw when I hit the 5K mark earlier, that my time was around 34 minutes. Not that I’m counting or anything …