Fellows

The Players Are Interchangeable (An Essay)

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Even as I write about men,

it’s not about them.

How could it be?

They’re my very own creation.

Birthed from the core of me.

And the quality of my experience with them (or anything else in my life) is never about, or dependent upon, them or another.

The dynamic is impersonal.

The players are interchangeable.

Because it’s all just energy, baby.

Who and what’s being presented as I play my own game is never about the specific person or thing.

They’re just the vessels through which I explore Mandyland.

The playground that has no rules.

And every single piece,

I’ve orchestrated for myself.

Brilliantly.

Effortlessly.

Whether I like what I see or not.

I’m curating all of it - no exceptions - to sharpen the blade of me.

Which is why even in the midst of this beauty,

I’m not attached to any of it.

I don’t ‘hope’ it continues.

I don’t believe this is as good as it gets.

Because I know that the energetic quality,

the purity of me and all that I create,

is increasing constantly.

Exponentially.

There’s always more for me.

And I know that all I ever have to do is be Mandy,

just Mandy,

for life to shape itself beautifully,

seamlessly,

around,

within,

and through me.

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Truth Being Played Out (An Essay)

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While talking with the fellow about our recent ‘disconnect’ (which is not how I experience it; it’s just truth being played out moment to moment):

Me: “You felt like I left?”

Him: “I never felt like I had you in the first place. You’re a mystery to me.”

Me: “Well, no one’s ever ‘had’ me. But you’ve had more of me than most.”

(Peep the Poem)

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It Needed To Be Broken (An Essay)

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Kristen: “Will it break him if you don’t see him again?”

Me: “I don’t care. I don’t think of it. I just go scene to scene.”

I know how my detachment appears.

But attachment isn’t natural to the being.

It’s lodged in a story of some sort.

Meaning.

Matter.

Past.

Another.

It’s not that I don’t care about other people or what they go through.

It’s that I don’t care how their human is affected by me being Mandy.

I don’t take another into account when I make my moves.

Why would someone else have anything to do with what I know I must do?

Shall I factor in everyone I know and the world at large while I’m at it?

Give me a fucking break.

If something breaks, then good.

It clearly needed to be broken.

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He Moves With Me Seamlessly (An Essay)

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He reminds me of a Leonard Cohen quote.

“You go your way. I’ll go your way, too.”

He moves with me seamlessly.

Effortlessly.

With nothing in between.

A dance so quiet, so tender, so natural, so close.

So light.

So pure.

So empty.

So free.

Little is spoken.

Yet everything is said.

“Mine.”

“Yours.”

Here we are.

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The Refusal To Stay Where It's False (An Essay)

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my NO with him only adds to the turn on

without that being my incentive to honour it

all i know in a moment is not this

what he does with that is not my business

not my ‘problem’

not a consideration at all

and yet

what he’s done with each zig and zag of me

has been heavenly

so dreamy

and

as i continue to ride each edge

making the entrance point more narrow

more pristine for the god in me

what awaits me on the other side of that perpetual sharpening

is the more that can’t be tasted

the more that can’t be felt

were i to choose to just deny myself

and abandon what is true

and it’s that whittling down to nothing

that refusal to stay where it’s false

that devotion to truth in each moment

(no matter what happens as a result)

that creates a vortex for the ALL

the ALL that can’t be named

the ALL beyond my wildest dreams

the ALL that’s sourced from NO

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Dripping Like Honey (An Essay)

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he joked that i’m grooming him to be my submissive

which i loved

because although i’m not doing anything but being me

free of an agenda

and no requirements of another

(just a fine attunement to what turns me on and an unwillingness to play elsewhere)

the natural consequence of that for someone who is open to

and turned on by

my natural way of being

is submission (my heaven)

which feels as delicious to my system as it does to theirs

and…

from the very first scene

i was dripping like honey

from the energy of us

it was potent and true

it was pure and uncontrived

the most erotic dance in the world

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Sex vs SEX (An Essay)

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in the middle of the night

he and i had a lovely conversation about sex

and not surprisingly

based on how we met and how things are unfolding

we share a similar view on play

sex (penetration) for the sake of sex

hits no true spot

but the experience of SEX

that has no beginning, no middle, no end

that may or may not include penetration

that may or may not include touch or a release

that is not marked separate from a ‘non-sex’ event

(because it’s alllll SEX, baby)

that is where the magic is

that is what arouses more than a particular position or body type

than a pre-determined set of preferences

than a vibe of ‘this worked on her last time so i’ll just do that again’

because SEX is a dance in the NOW

(Peep the Mandy Bite)

so you can’t bring a (past) thing with you

nor can you aim for something else

you must make each move from exactly where you are

without leaving where it’s fresh and alive and new

without ever leaving YOU

because true SEX is beyond the physical

the body is just the vessel through which you play

endlessly

truthfully

fluidly

to more

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