Punishment Forthcoming

Thank you to everyone who commented on my most recent post. Please know that Daddy has chosen a punishment and it will be coming soon. Things are currently pretty busy over here in Daddy's den, and both of us have been under the weather for the past week or so. We'll let everyone know the details of my punishment as soon as we're both back in fighting shape.

Punishment

From the comments on my previous post from "Anonymous":

"I think that since bad boy Ben has not posted recently we should all come up with a punishment we find suitable that his Daddy will have the ultimate say on...."

Well, Anonymous, Daddy agrees with you. You are all correct, it is unacceptable for me to neglect my blog and my readers.

At Daddy's order, I will be accepting punishments in the comments section of this post until midnight on Friday. Daddy will review them all and choose the best or most popular. He will then administer my punishment and post pictures as proof.

I apologize to all of you for being so lazy, and await Your order.

Attached is an example of the last time I was bad.

The Spanking Cup

A few weeks ago, Daddy informed me there would be a new system of discipline in the home, and it all had to do with a small glass cup. He came over where I was sitting and put it in my hand so I could get a better look. The label around the rim read, "Spanking Cup". Even more curiously, three small metal S hooks were hanging off the rim. Unsure what to make of the foreign object, I looked up at Daddy inquisitively.

He smiled broadly and introduced me to the spanking cup. The three S hooks around the rim represented an offense that was not quite so egregious as to warrant a spanking, but bad enough to need correction. Every time I committed such an offense, one hook was taken off the rim and dropped in the cup. There are only three hooks. Can you guess what happens when all three hooks fall into the cup? If you guessed a spanking, you guessed correctly. Go straight over Daddy's knee. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. At the end of the day, each S would go back onto the rim, and I would begin the next day with a clean slate.

Now Daddy knows me well enough to predict that I was already trying to figure out ways to abuse the system. For example, it would be easy enough to just get two S hooks a day. In fact, it is almost like being given a free pass to misbehave twice a day. This is why he told me very clearly that gaming the system in itself is a spankable offense, and that he would be quite vigilant in making sure I played nicely.

However, Daddy is also a very kind man. Another element of the system, designed to keep me from not misbehaving at all, involved a reward. For every day I go without getting ANY hooks in the cup, I get a reward. At this point, Daddy asked for my input in coming up with the most effective and reasonable award. This is how my punch card was created. I will let it speak for itself.

I personally think its genius. The reward is something I want very badly, but given so incrementally that it really requires long term good-behavior to be of any value. Daddy has never been a big bondage enthusiast, but he enjoys it enough to play along. With the new system, however, I don't feel like I am bugging him to do something just for me when I need to be bound and gagged. With my punch card, I know that he is just doing it for me, but that's ok because it's something I have earned. All together, it has made being tied up and left to struggle (my favorite) a much more regular part of our relationship, which has left me quite satisfied.

To this day, I have yet to get all three hooks in the cup. It's mostly split between no hooks or one hook. All together, it has been a very effective system.

Having said that, I'm always looking for new ideas on how to spend my earnings! If anyone has ideas for positions, ties, gags, what I should be wearing, where tied, etc... let me know!

A House with Consequences

A few months ago, Daddy sat me down and we talked about discipline. More specifically, we discussed what each of us wanted from out relationship in regards to discipline and authority. I felt somewhat limited in my ability to come to the table though. After all, I had only been in one relationship before, and it was relatively vanilla. Luckily for me, Daddy really does always know best.

That's when he told me about his past boys and boyfriends. He shared some of the ways discipline was a part of these relationships, and explained to me what worked and didn't. Just as importantly, Daddy told me how he hoped to incorporate discipline into our relationship. I found our hopes for the relationship were quite similar.

In essence, we wanted to create a relationship and home where Daddy is in charge. Neither of us is bound by formal rules or codes. We simply live with the very basic and loving understanding that he's in charge. We would continue to act in ways that are organic for us, but always under his watchful eye.  And if and when he sees fit, I can be punished at his discretion whenever and for whatever cause he has.


This last part was something I felt ready for. So much so, that I unfortunately became slightly impatient. I was giddy at the idea of being given boundaries and held accountable for my behavior. So I did what any rude and impatient boy would do: kept bringing it up and pestering him about it. He told me in very specific words that he wanted to take things slowly, but patience has never been one of my virtues. So I waited, and waited, and began to doubt it would ever happen.


Until today. Coming in from a day of furniture shopping, Daddy and I decided to order dinner. He gave me four meal options. I guessed the first two might be, "Daddy's ass on a plate" and "Daddy's head on a plate". They were incorrect, and my fourth option became "A swift spanking and no dinner". My more bratty instincts kicked in right about now, and I requested the fourth option. He asked if I had a back up meal plan, and I just kept pushing him; committed to calling his bluff.

Well, he called mine. He walked into the bathroom, grabbed the bath brush, came back, grabbed me, put me over his knee, and spanked me. It couldn't have been more than ten swats in total, but BOY did they sting. My spanking was not only swift, but also clearly punitive. As someone who is quickly falling in love with spanking, I was shocked to see how clearly this spanking was not playful.

Afterward he sat me down and explained to me what just happened, and why. As it turns out, today is the first day of domestic discipline in the home. Daddy clearly thinks we're ready, and I'm eager to see what this new adventure holds for us.  Something tells me I'll have some trouble sitting down over the next few weeks.

I've Written a Letter to Daddy

Daddy,

I wanted to shoot you a short email about what happened this morning. I know from your perspective, this probably still doesn't count as a real spanking, but for me it was pretty intense. Since we're taking domestic discipline slowly, I thought you might want my thoughts on this minor step.


A few aspects of the spanking has lingered in my mind since I got in the shower. First, was the symbolic aspect of being over your lap. My developing interest in discipline focuses almost exclusively on over-the-knee Daddy/boy spanking with the hand. This was the first time that all of those symbolic, formal elements of spanking were present. I kept frantically thinking to myself "I'm I'm over Daddy's lap! I'm over Daddy's lap! I'm over Daddy's lap!" You know that I fantasize, and I think a big thrill for me this morning was experiencing the idea/fantasy. For example, I don't think I would have had this same thrill had you paddled me while bent over a chair. All the sexual and mental indicators of discipline were present this morning, and it thrilled and electrified my mind and body.


The second element was the spanking itself. More specifically, the physical aspect of the spanking. Through this, I experienced your strength, Daddy. That may sound strange, but it is actually uncommon to really feel your power. We both love wrestling and joking around, and I get a small sliver of it then. This was different, though. With one hand, you held me down no matter how much I kicked or wiggled. With the other, you administered very specific amounts of pain. You WERE completely, 100% in control of the situation, and I knew it. With every sting on my cheeks, I felt how powerful you were. Every time your hand would pull away, my heart would race with anticipation of the next swat. When would it come? Would it come at all? Would it be the same force as the last swat? Less? Double? And then your palm would strike my cheeks, and I would feel the rush of the sting. I felt this rush with every swat you gave me.

The last aspect of my spanking that really affected me is somewhat difficult to express. I suppose it is related to my first point. Basically, the spanking I received this morning was preceded by months of craving exactly what happened. I have thought about spanking non-stop since we started speaking more seriously on the subject. I know you overheard me spanking myself the other night while I jerked off, just to even get a taste of the feeling. It isn't just that this was a fantasy of mine, but rather that it was a new experience. The last time you spanked me, I was in a completely different mindset. This is the first time experiencing a spanking since I first became interested in it. I don't even have another experience in my life I can compare it to. It isn't like the first time I got fucked, or tied up, or any other sexual interest I have ever had. This came after weeks/months of desperate anticipation, and it made my heart and mind race.

I love you.

ben

...a discipline boy

[A guest post from Daddy]

In my experience, there are three categories of men involved in discipline: 1) spanking fetishists who leverage the intimacy, humiliation, and regressive qualities of discipline as a form of erotic foreplay 2) S/m players for whom discipline provides a rubric for the administration and receipt of pain and 3) spankers and spankees who wish to exchange discipline as an historically masculine form of care-taking.

I fall into the last category.  The first time I took a boy across my knee, I was a boy myself – no older than 13  – and he was a classmate of mine with whom I would fool around, experiment, fuck and discipline until we graduated high school. 

Most of the time, we would take out my parents‘ copy of The Joy of Sex, and choose a page at random; he would take the girl’s role, I the man’s and we would execute whatever the prescription.  As the years went on, he formed around me as a submissive bottom and I around him as a dominant top.  But there was something different about spanking.

Both sets of our parents were late baby boomers – Dr. Spock enthusiasts who dared not touch their children in an aggressive or angry or “corrective” way.  As a result, neither of us had been exposed to spanking as children; we came to it on our own, as two young men in the throws of adolescents.  That may seem counterintuitive and it certainly voids any prevailing bullshit about kink players having suffered some sort of trauma in their childhoods.  In fact, it is precisely the fact that our parents were hands-off that allowed for such pure and unbiased experimenting when it came to corporal punishment.

The boy (whom we’ll call Jack) was having trouble keeping his act together both at school and at home.  Sharing a secret as dangerous as gay sex in the early nineties midwest also meant that we could confide in each other extracurricularly, and, in confidence, he told me that his behaviors and truancy didn’t make him happy.  On the contrary, he felt out of control of himself and his situation.  Would I help?

I was in love with Jack even – no, even more so – as a flame-hearted teenager.  Inflicting pain for pain’s sake made me uncomfortable.  What I learned over time was that I didn’t understand what he was asking for.  As we experimented, as I went from smacking his butt across an awkward lap to disciplining him, I realized he wasn’t asking for pain, he was asking for attention – and intervention.

The intimacy of spanking – of undressing a young man, exposing him, and bringing him close while exacting precise control of the situation –  was a physical turn on.  But the experience unlocked a mental turn-on: effecting a transformation of behavior; helping my friend on a fundamental level; seeing him bend, break and rebuild in a form that befitted his goals and aspirations.  I wasn’t administering pain for pain’s sake at all.  I was in his service.

And from those early experiences with Jack, I wished to be the kind of man sufficiently responsible, intelligent, careful, caring and imposing to set boys alight: there heads, their hearts, and, by extension, their butts.

Being the instrument of change and a rock of stability for guys came naturally and, that is to say, with tremendous work.  There were rules to learn, or rather, to develop: To never discipline out of anger or malice; to take the goals of a boy more seriously than he may be willing to; and to fulfill an obligation of regret, to be willing to discipline even when the person you love would prefer it otherwise.   Because they’ve asked you to. Because it is your responsibility.

Heavy is the head who wears the crown; heavier still is the heart of the man who swings a paddle.  But when a man, your brother, asks you to take him to task, then you must steel yourself against your own protests even more than his.  Even though it’s difficult.  Even though it’s hot.

When discipline is requested and administered for the real benefits of change, the bond between two men grows deeper and takes on a special color that reveals itself through no other exchange.  It is unique, it is enormous, and it is fragile. A boy’s acquiescence is earned by leading an example of a well-discipline life.  A top’s hand is earned by the desire for improvement and offering the trust to allow him the privilege of effecting it.

...a discipline daddy.

Despite my youth, I have always felt my interests were pretty concrete (especially recently). Excluding the occasional stray fantasy, my interests have been fairly consistent over my years of exploration. I thought I learned rather quickly what I like and dislike. So much so, in fact, that I doubted the likelihood of ever being with a man who didn't share my rather specific interests. Part of it is, of course, the folly of youth. However, I also think it stems from how our internet profiles compel us to define and itemize our sexuality. After a while, you just begin to categorize things as likes or dislikes.

For example, I never "liked" discipline. From my perspective, discipline was synonymous with pain. Worse; discipline was nothing but pain. From the few dealings I had with pain and SM, I was fairly certain I wasn't interested in the subject.

It wasn't until I fell in love with Daddy that my understanding began to develop. My education began with our own organic dynamic. In many ways he is naturally a Daddy like figure: compassionate, reassuring, stern, and hard working. The more we saw one another, the more I wanted his help in possessing those traits. And what better way to inspire a boy than with a little tough love?

I remember the first time Daddy showed me a really good discipline video. The young man in the video had recently been bailed out of jail by the film's proprietor. The two had worked together regularly in the past on videos, and the Daddy was clearly very upset with the situation. During the process of an over-the-knee spanking, I was lucky enough to witness something very intense and very real. Both parties were obviously very upset, and I could tell what I saw was really happening for them. Not only was I enthralled, but I was also rock-hard.

I think that's when I started pestering Daddy to have a spanking boy over. We had both kept our online profiles while dating, and I encouraged him to start looking for a boy to discipline in front of me. He eventually had one come over, and their exchange was incredibly erotic. While I wasn't allowed to see, hearing their interaction had me drooling over Daddy. The boy's confession of laziness and sloth, and Daddy's firm demands that he work harder and sort out his shit. When the boy eventually left, the first thing I did was tell Daddy how incredible he is.

Then, about two months ago, I was lucky enough to receive my own behavioral standards. After much begging on my part, Daddy sorted out a schedule of chores for me. It's posted right on the fridge.

As you can see, he keeps me pretty busy. I'm usually pretty great at staying on top of things, and Daddy is pretty good at allowing for extenuating circumstances. However, I haven't been a perfectly good boy. Whether due to laziness or a desire to test Daddy's buttons, I have missed tasks. Usually I get off with a chuckle and a verbal warning, but on one occasion I was put over Daddy's lap. It wasn't "fun", in the traditional sense of the word. Ok, well it wasn't fun in any sense of the word. However, it was... I'm not sure exactly. Hot? Enjoyable? Kinky? I guess not any of those, really. No, it was intense. Intense, emotional, and very intimate. I was kicking and sobbing the whole time, but afterwards I was very grateful for the experience.

Now, I find that my greatest challenge is craving discipline while not wanting to disappoint Daddy. Wish me luck.

Daddy Says:
[I've stayed out of this one, and for good reason: Ben's post this week is an internal monologue describing a transformation he's experienced.  While I played a part in effecting that experience, I can't (and therefore won't force) a commentary over it.  His experiences and interpretations are his own and they do a great job of untangling the mixed, volatile, and as he said, intense feelings many boys associate with being disciplined by the man they answer to.  So, instead of a running commentary, I'll post a response from my perspective in the next few days. -A. ]

Sicko

No post this week. I'm down with the flu.

Daddy's Boy Ben

I know you have all been wondering where I have been for the past few months. If you hadn't already guessed, a lot has been going on lately. The number one reason I haven't posted in three months is actually just how intense my schedule has been. As someone who has experienced both a liberal arts education and a technical education, I have to say technical is ten times more demanding. Between the extraordinary amount of time I have to put into fashion school and working two jobs on the weekend, I have simply had no time to write.

It wasn't just my schedule that kept me from writing, though. The truth is I have fallen in love with the man of my dreams. Daddy and I started seeing each other about six months ago, and things have just been perfect. We connect intellectually, emotionally, and sexually. He is the most handsome, sexy man I have ever had the privilege of being with, and being with him has made me happier than I have ever been.

I asked him if he'd like to comment on my articles; he said he'd be willing to and so from here out, you'll see his words in brackets [  ]. 

When we first started seeing each other, we made a conscious decision to take things slow. Not only did we want to avoid getting too serious, we wanted to get to know each other as people before developing a Daddy/boy relationship. In fact, it's only in the past month or so that we have really begun to explore that dynamic. Even right now, one of the main reasons I am writing is this post is because Daddy STRONGLY encouraged me to do so.

[Ben may be prone to hyperbole. I encouraged him to start up writing again for two reasons: 1) He's good at it, and 2) There's a community around leather, rope, sub/Dom, and Dad/son that is self-supporting.  By him reaching out, he'll encourage other folks to do the same thing.  We've all been kids once, wondering what the heck is wrong with us for having such deviant, thrilling thoughts.  I'm proud that Ben's doing his part to reassure everyone that, while deviant and thrilling, they're also perfectly natural.]

I will have a lot more to write about in the coming months. In fact, the newness of this whole relationship will provide me with some really interesting thoughts and feelings to explore. In the meantime, I'll keep doing what I do best: being Daddy's boy.  [I'll say.]

Self Bondage

I have found that most of the guys I know who are like me have tried self bondage. By like me, I mean have bondage as a very specific interest. Bondage isn't just a means to an end (sex). Bondage, in and of itself, can be hot. In fact, most of my fantasies revolve around Hardy Boy bondage. It can be fully clothed and completely unsexed. The allure comes from the actual experience of being bound and gagged.

It makes sense then, that if the allure comes from being tied up, that there is at least some enjoyment derived from self-bondage (or tying yourself up). Of course there are degrees of self bondage. As a very simple example: I gag myself ALL the time. When I'm jerking off, when I'm cleaning the apartment, whenever. Being gagged just really turns me on. Sometimes I just wanna be tied up though. Which is when you try out the more extreme techniques.

Now, I am aware, self bondage can be EXTREMELY DANGEROUS. One should ALWAYS make sure to have an emergency way out (usually scissors). In fact, I frequently do self bondage when my roomie is home so no matter what, I can ask for help. Whats more, when I plan on tying my hands as well, I usually don't use a mouth stuffing gag that I could easily choke on.

Having said, I do have a few techniques I have been working on. My main one is pretty basic, and can be used to make a decent hogtie. You start by taking a short length of rope and tying a square knot at it's ends, in essence making a single loop of rope. Now fold that rope back on itself several times until you have several coils of rope layered on top of one another, making one small loop. Put that aside for now. Take another short length of rope and tie your ankles, with no cinching yet. Lastly, wrap a third length of rope around your tied ankles, cinching the original tie. However, at the end of one length of this third rope, tie a slip knot. Now, get on your knees and put one wrist through the first rope (the short loop). Before putting the second wrist, put the coils through the slip knot you just made. Now slide your second wrist through the rope. Lastly, from your knees, lean onto your stomach (you start on your knees because it gives you more leverage to slip the rope through the slip knot). And now, here you are, effectively hogtied. Whenever you're ready to be untied, you just untie the slip knot.

This is my most used method. However,  I was hoping you guys could share some of your own techniques in the comments section. I'm always looking to test new methods to see how well I can rope myself up.

On Chastity

    Roughly every two or so years, I have the inclination to retry chastity. I think that is roughly how long it takes for me to forget about how much I absolutely hated it the last time I tried. Seriously, every time I had ever tried chastity it was just miserable. I had no problem with the not-cumming aspect of it all, but everything else about wearing a cock cage is JUST intolerable. The bulkiness, the discomfort, the downright pain: NO THANK YOU. So right on schedule, about two and a half years after my last run-in with the wretched machinations of the CB 3000, I was suddenly curious to have my cock locked (though to be honest I do have a slight ulterior motive). Knowing a Dom from the NYBC had wanted to lock me up in the past, I asked if he would keep me locked up for a 24 hour trial period.

To prove that I was worthy and more ready to obey His command, I underwent a week long series of obedience training; basic orders and commands to be followed and preformed daily. After proving myself more obedient and well-trained than I had in the past, He agreed to lock me up last night after work. I arrived at 8pm and he locked me in this little number: http://www.mr-s-leather.com/CB310/stainless-steel-chastity-cock-cage.html?id=YGacrTya. By this time, I had already edged myself without cumming for about a day. Between my cum-denial, obedience training, AND desire for my cock to be locked; I was desperately horny.

With this attitude, I was very excited to wear and test out the device. On the street I was surprised to find it was not only comfortable, but also fairly covert and unnoticeable. Unlike my previous experiences with chastity, I could really see myself wearing it for a while. I wore it to the bondage club where I was happy to wait on BLL contributor Sente. He tied me up several times and showed me off in my locked-cock state. Having my cock locked during play was a rather interesting experience. For the first time EVER possibly, I was truly unconcerned with my own pleasure. Knowing I couldn't cum, and that my dick was incapable of feeling any stimulation, it made it clear that the importance was on the man I was with. It was literally like my dick was non-existent. It's hard to really explain unless you have been in that situation, but it made me feel submissive and subservient in a way I had not quite experienced through any other method.

However, it was at the club that I started to experience the first drawbacks of the device. Every time I tried to piss, the trajectory of my urine would miss the hole in the device and end up filling the tube with piss. After a few seconds, it would start pouring out of the back of the device and all over my crotch. It was mostly just a mild nuisance. However, that night when I got home and got piss all over my jeans, I realized what a problem it could be. On one hand, yes: being forced to accidentally piss your pants a bit is hot and VERY humiliating. But in terms of the practicality of wearing this device long term, not being able to piss without getting it everywhere is simply unacceptable.

As the night wore on, and I started to get exhausted (I had worked 20 hours in 2 days and gotten about 10 hours of sleep combined), the pissing problem REALLY started annoying me. In that moment, I cheated and slipped my dick out of the tube to piss without problems. I then stuffed it back in the tube, but everything started hurting. The skin under my balls was getting raw and irritated, and frankly I was just getting bothered by the whole situation. Still, I went to bed and just resigned to deal with it. At 5am I woke to my balls tingling and pinching. I was so frustrated that I just tried cheating and taking the whole thing off. Which is when I REALLY hurt my balls trying to tug them through the cockring. Realizing I couldn't get it off, and just wanting to get some sleep made me FURIOUS. I texted the Dom to let him know I wanted it off first thing in the morning. After a while, I managed to cool off and fall back asleep.

When I woke up, I was still pretty over the whole situation, and quite ready to get the cage off. The Dom said I could come over at 2 and so I went about my day till then. However, something had happened last night in my 5am panic. I had realized how helpless I was. I really was LOCKED in and had NO POWER AT ALL to free myself. My dick and my body was truly under the control of one Man. The more I let this sink in, the more intoxicated with my helplessness I became. I got some lube and reset everything as best I could so it would be as comfortable as it had been the other night (in my 5am panic the night before, EVERYTHING had fallen out of place and was terribly uncomfortable and cumbersome). And then I texted the Dom...and BEGGED him to keep me 24 hours as we initially agreed. I thanked him profusely for locking me up; grovelling and giving in to my total submission. I realized I had become dickless, and in that realization I gave in completely to being under a Man's power.

I spent a full 24 hours in chastity. And while it had it's ups and downs, I am very grateful for the experience. We ended up discussing the pissing problem and figured out what went wrong exactly. Now, I can't wait to be locked up again for even longer.

Secret

Secrecy is a funny thing. I have spent a lot of time on this blog and in general talking about how important it is to be "out" as kinky players. I believe in that just as much today as I ever did. However, I do have to admit that lately I have been exploring a new interest. Something I hadn't really ever thought about except for a few times before a few months ago. And, I am beginning to understand one of the reasons some people prefer to keep some of their interests secret.

Most people don't have the opportunity in their lives to be very open about all this. I think some people, though, get off on how taboo this all is. Working at Nasty Pig, I hear it all the time. "I could wear this and people wouldn't even know where it was from". Seriously? Who cares if they knew where it was from? Is there really anything dirty about Nasty Pig? Maybe I am just too desensitized, but it always struck me as incredibly juvenile that people had such reactions to having this big secret.

Still, as I mentioned above... I am beginning to understand the allure of having a "dirty secret". Though I still think there is nothing particularly dirty about Nasty Pig, I am growing to appreciate the feeling one can have from feeling something privately. The interest I have recently taken plays into a lot of my humiliation fantasies, and taps into a lot of my inner most feelings of social right and wrong. The feeling that you are doing something very dirty, outside the scope of "how people are supposed to behave" can actually be exhilarating. More than exhilarating, having some dirty sexual secret heightens the sense of humiliation you have from doing the action in the first place.

I'm not going to reveal what my interest is, but it has elicited in me a feeling I have never had before. A rush of adrenaline like I have never known. It's sexual and emotional in a way I can not adequately describe. And what's more, the rush wouldn't be half as strong if I was out and proud about my new interest. By being proud of something, you take away its power to humiliate you. I don't want that. I have always been curious about humiliation, and now I have found a way for me to feel it in a way I never thought possible. I want to give guys the power to humiliate me, and as long as I feel that way, I'm gonna keep my secret. My own private dirty secret...

MAL Help

I'm at MAL. Is there anyone out there who wants to keep me bound and gagged for a few hours? haha

Aaaaaaaaaaaand We're Back

            Biggest apologies for the delay, my loyal readers. I’m on winter break from school, which means every aspect of my regular life flew out the window for a few weeks. As many of you know the best tool I had for always making time to write was doing so on a regular basis. Without a regular schedule, well I just kept forgetting to write. I will continue to have off until the end of the month, but hopefully will be able to pay a bit more attention to my humble blog.

            The funniest part of my leave of absence is that I didn’t stop brainstorming for the blog. In fact, in the past few weeks I have had several “A-HA!” moments where I have found a post topic. I just haven’t gotten around to writing them, much to your chagrin, I’m sure.

            First up, I wanted to reflect a little bit on the New Year. Now, traditionally, New Year’s Eve is not dissimilar to my 4^th of July in that I generally have little to no fun. In fact, I can barely remember what I did on the past several NYE’s. Before I get too gushy, let me just say this NYE was no better than any previous one because I worked a double from 11pm-10am and it was pretty miserable.

            HAVING SAID, there was one interesting aspect of my New Year’s that inspired a great deal of reflection in me. As of January 1, 2011 I had officially been living in NYC for exactly one year. Neat, huh? I’ve never really been one for New Year’s resolutions or all of that nonsense. But being able to go back in my mind and have a clear beginning and end of 2010 just made it really easy to reflect on things.

            One year ago I had just graduated from college. I moved here with no job prospects and no idea if I would even be accepted to fashion school. I only had a handful of friends in the city and only marginal experience in searching for an apartment. I had been a student for four years, and barely had a taste of what life as a young man would be like. There is one thing I did have though, and it drove my poor mother crazy. I had an absolute conviction that no matter what happened, I was going to survive.

            Now I’m sure you can chalk plenty of that up to being young and painfully stupid at times.  And I readily accept that my sense of invincibility is nothing more than the fodder of youth. But hey, I made it, didn’t I? I the past year I have started fashion school, gotten a new job (several, in fact), made a few new friends, met some amazing people, started dating a remarkable man, went new places, tried new things, had some HOT scenes, and basically carved out a small niche for myself in the man-eating behemoth that is New York City.

            With that in mind, I have a few goals for 2011. Not resolutions, exactly… My goals are more general things I want to happen to me this year that I think would maximize my happiness. I’m not going to share them right now. I would rather let you know after I’ve accomplished them.

            So here’s to 2011. I think it’s going to kick ass!