Having A Sugar Daddy

I felt respected by the guy I thought of as  a sugar daddy.

Daddy David! David (not his real name but the name he first gave when we met online) was a powerful force in my life. David. He called himself David. I added ‘Daddy’.

I was single. I was working at a corporate job where I had influence and made more money than I ever had. I decided it was a good time to meet people and joined an online dating site.

He was an out of towner. I liked that in a date. It meant they came to the city often enough to look for a date but didn’t have the clinginess of someone who could pop by any time.

I was still naïve about men, and dating, when I met him. I’d only managed to date gangsta’s, abusers, couch potatoes and men who gambled my rent money until I met DD.

Unless it was a ‘one-off date’ where a cool guy picked me up at my ghetto home and when I didn’t fuck on the first date I never saw him again? I had so many of  those.

Until, Daddy David.

We talked online for several weeks before meeting. I was working at the time so I arranged to take a half day vacation and meet him at his hotel around 3pm for an early cocktail.

He called early in the day to say he had an unfortunate meeting come up, but he had booked me into the hotel spa for a mani/pedi and he would meet me in the hotel bar afterward for a cocktail before dinner. (That was the best ‘I’m gonna be late’ call I have ever received!)

About that first date?

Even though I nicknamed him ‘daddy’, David was younger than me. When I got to the hotel bar I was nervous and wondering if he would like me. He was so kind. He thought I was beautiful. He came across as a bit nerdy (in look and demeanor) which made me more comfortable. But he was handsome, very intelligent, and we had a great conversation.

So why not take it to another venue? We hit three restaurants. One for steaks, one for dessert, one for night caps. Then he asked if I wanted to go to his hotel. I DID!! Even though I didn’t want to put out? I didn’t work the next day. I thought about gourmet breakfast…  and I decided.

“Sure,  I’ll come back to your hotel room!”

SUPRISE ME! It wasn’t sex he wanted. He had cocaine available. I did a couple lines  to be polite and keep me awake. However, cocaine is not my friend (I have allergies to that family of drug) and I usually turn it down. I did a line or two.

Sex was never on the table. He rubbed my freshly pedi’d feet with some fruity rub. He told me I was the most interesting person he had spoken to in my city. He said he would love the pleasure of my company while he was on business… as long as I could accept him spending time with his other ladies.

I laid back, relaxed and embraced my temporary fate. LOL

We ended up in some kind of friendship. David encouraged me to date other men, tell him about them so he could pass judgement (ha ha) and give me advice. He only asked that I spend my time with him when he was in the city.

So? I went with him to bars/clubs. If I saw two pretty girls on the dance floor? I would saunter  up and dance with them. I’d offer to buy them a drink. I would take them to the bar while walking past David’s table. I’d stop on the way while he slipped me a $50. I would take the girls up to the bar and do a round of shooters before we ordered drinks.

While waiting for drinks? I would tell them if they think the guy who paid for the drinks was cute or wanted to say hi? They were invited to stop at the table. But there was no obligation.

Obviously? Many stopped. Most didn’t go home with him. He was a bit nerdy after all. And I wasn’t pimping him, only making introductions. More important to me? I kept every cent of change from those $50’s. I drank for free and kept the change from those interactions. He wanted me to.

Before he left the city (every time)? He filled my fridge and cupboards with food and drinks. “If you want to entertain men, Princess, you need food and alcohol! I won’t always be here to make you smile.” He stocked my everything.

I’ll never forget how Daddy David impacted my life. I owed his company debt when we met (he owns an international cheque cashing and payroll loan company). He forgave my debt and contacted other people to get them to clear other debts in other companies. When I told him why I don’t like cocaine? He never offered it again. He supported me being off hard drugs.

I remember when he flew friends of his into Winnipeg to go to a Nickelback concert. Seven men and me. They all fought over who was paying for my dinner because it meant they would be ‘my date’. When I got cut off from drinking at the concert? They still went and got me more. They made sure I got to meet the opening act, Saving Abel! And they, respectfully, sent me home in a cab after I provided them with numbers for calls girls 🙂

After I learned the truth about who he was in the financial world? I gave him the nickname ‘Daddy’ I laughed that he was the one Sugar Daddy not getting sex from the girl he was supporting.

My favorite memory from him? These words!  I often said, “Thank you so much, Daddy!!” and he said, “Anything to make you smile, Princess!”

 

 

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Hug Therapy

It was my dad who taught me how to give a great hug. So many times I was sad and he just grabbed me and held tight. He’s known for them. I’m known for great hugs, too! I blame him 🙂

I’m quick to hug people. I think it is the reaching out that makes it mentally okay. However, I cringe when someone tries to hug me if it isn’t initiated by me. I think this is  because when I need a hug the most is also when I am having high anxiety issues. Hugging, touch in general, isn’t a great way to help when I am in anxiety.

Even when I struggle through an uninvited hug I still love hugs.

With Paul? Hugs are a wonderful part of building intimacy.

Every day we take time for a hug. Not just any hug, but a purposeful one. Our heights are such  that my arms go around his neck and his around my waist. After a few moments of just holding each other tight? He lifts me a bit and it stretches my back. When he sets me down we spend a few more moments rubbing each others hands over each others backs. We gently massage the aching muscles  and scratch each other’s itchy spots. Sometimes there is kissing involved on each others necks. Always we tell each other we love the other.

Hugs sustain me.

 

 

 

This New Moon

Time and time again I find myself thinking about my spirituality. How I am not paying attention to the things that help me grow. I miss my inner connection. So, I’ve been reading a lot about rituals, new moon vs full moon, and how I can bring some change to my life.

New moon is for intention. It’s the birthing cycle of the moon phases. Set goals. Whereas, the full moon is for purging. It’s the time to let go and make change.

Today is new moon. I am using today to regain some spiritual connection and set some intentions for when the full moon the comes.

I am thinking about new moon like planting seeds of intention.

  1. Decide what I want to grow. I want to develop my spirituality. I have been neglecting that side and I have been missing it. Also, I want to embrace a life of more moderation. I know I have often lacked self control and I want to gain that. Those are what I choose to grow.
  2. Plant the seed. In other words, make a plan. I have some thoughts about plans and I will contemplate them more before I take the next steps.
  3. Water. I will water my plans and intentions by meditating on the change I want to bring to my life. Because I believe in the power of candles, I will light one of an appropriate colour and use it to keep my focus my goals for the days it burns keeping my inner focus on my intentions. It allows the watering to begin growth.
  4. Grow. Allow my focus to take action. Begin to bring the plans to life by allowing the intention to take hold and root my life. Full moon will be the time to set all my changes in motion and it is the time for changes.

I am excited today to cleanse a sacred space, send my intentions out to the universe and put changes into motion in my life.

Not Raw

I’ve been writing so much lately about Paul coming home, or sex, or just generalities altogether.

I feel like I haven’t been fully honest. With myself, first. I’m focusing on other things (like Paul and sex) because I don’t want to face what I am feeling. I am choosing to write about the mundane instead of what is really going on in my head most of the time.

I’ve been couch bound. I want to do things, create things, etc. But I have only managed to do the bare necessities to get by.

Today is the new moon. I am going to set some intentions and use ritual to put them in motion. I need to focus more time on things that move me forward.

Mushroom Soup

mushroom-soup

Ah, the go to medicine when I need to relax. Good ole Psilocybin.

I’ve been able to learn very little about the history of use in the times of my ancestors but from what I can gather, in Europe, they are recovering knowledge about the entheogenic substances used in ancient times more frequently. However all traces of the popular rites in which entheogenic substances were consumed have been lost. I would imagine that was part of the church trying to rid the world of paganism through loss of traditions.

In Mediterranean Europe the traditional use of entheogenic substances has only survived in very, very marginal places where there are still some elderly people of the mountainous regions who take them in an  individual way.

I have been using magic mushrooms for a while now as a way to find healing. I think I use them like a true entheogen. An entheogen is any psychoactive substance that induces a spiritual experience and is aimed at spiritual development in contrast to recreational use of the same drug.

On Valentines Day, Paul and I did mushrooms. We both micro dose. Both for healing.

As usual? They take you down the path you need. Paul’s journey that night wasn’t as psychotropic, but it was was calming and soothing for him after the time he had spent in anxiety in jail. I’ll admit it was nice to have him more lucid and acting as my ‘baby-sitter’ because I tripped hard. 🙂

We choose to watch the movie Trolls. I remember nothing about the plot except trolls are happy. The movie is very sparkly and full of exuberant song I couldn’t stop looking around my tiny RV and remarking that it was a big sparkly mansion. It looked so gigantic to me and full of everything that would bring me joy. Everything shiny and happy in the movie came out and danced around in front of me. I laughed so much and I was so happy.

Not only did I spend my night laughing until I cried, but I gained a new appreciation for everything I have in my space. Even though it is small? I have everything I need to live. And everything that makes me happy is here. My love, the ocean, my pet and everything I need to sustain myself.

We decided to do them again a little over a week later, on the 23rd, and had a different experience. This time we put them in soup so they were easier for Paul to ingest. I apparently make terrific mushroom soup 😉

I love how you get what you need. We had the opposite experience as they took hold this time.

I had been feeling some anxiety and anger coming from an unknown source. The mushrooms quelled my anger and anxiety but weren’t anything with visual effects like the last time. I received calm and peace instead of any revelation.

Paul went much deeper into the psychoactive part of the journey. He was laughing so hard for so long. He needed the release. I laughed at him because he kept holding it in and apologizing for laughing so much but he would shake and vibrate until I told him to laugh then explode with giggles leading to gut-splitting laughter.

We spent time snuggling, being close and just enjoying the after effects (they stay in your system for a bit and you have a few days of spiritual clarity afterward).

I’m glad this is a way we have chosen to find healing in our spiritual paths both individually and together!

 

Dear Quatloos’ers’

Well, I once again find myself the topic of discussion on your internet forums by people who have no clue about me. I used to find it very disturbing and it made me anxious. Today? I’m laughing a bit.

You were talking about people I truly have no care for. I’ve been known to spew my own hatred of them. But in interest of TRUTH I have to point out a few things.

Firstly, Eric said (referring to Mike Hunt and Kirsten Shaw), “As Burnaby had mentioned, Mike Hunt was involved in the Grand Prairie incident.”

Wrong. Mike knew people involved in that scheme but was not involved as either a buyer or seller. He just knew people who bought into it. It’s like saying Eric stole something and Burnaby 49 is also involved because you both talk on this forum.

Secondly, Eric said, “The best that I can tell is that Mike Hunt after the debacle decamped Alberta for Qualicum. Sometime along the way, during the summer, Paul Fiola’s wife went there as well and was eventually joined by Paul when he got out of jail. If you grovel through Shanda’s blog (btw, NSFW) it seems that Hunt was ripping off the campers, at least in their opinion.”  (LOL NSFW, dirty bird read more than one post I see)

The ‘best you can tell’ is so inaccurate. Mike left AB for his own reasons, unrelated to the GP situation. I stayed in Alberta and went the distance in the court system. Paul stayed in Alberta with me under house arrest. Neither of us fled because we believed we were right. I defended myself without a lawyer, not because I am FMOTL but because my lawyer bailed last minute. He bailed when I couldn’t pay him because I am on disability. He left me hanging, two days before trial, to face court alone without any knowledge of the legal system.

After I finished with court, Paul left Alberta with me because I wanted all this behind me. In the year he was waiting for me to finish in court? RCMP and the Justice and Solicitor General for Fish and Wildlife visited our home and Paul was never arrested again. He was never hiding from them.

We came to Alberta together.And it wasn’t to Mike Hunt’s place. We came without knowing he was here and only reconnected on Facebook because we had both joined the same local group online.

I NEVER lived there. I have always found my place and paid rent for it. I would never live with Mike and Kirsten. I would go homeless before that!

Third? “it was nice to have a major chunk of the Canadian Fmotl all in one easy to access spot”

Eric, no one there is FMOTL. THAT is the funniest part. Mike Hunt doesn’t identify with any particular group. Kirsten believes in aliens and thinks she is a Nephilim. They aren’t Freemen,  just crazy.

The others who have come there or found there way there went because they had no where else to go.  Maybe Dean Kory is FMOTL, I don’t know him personally so I won’t say (unlike you, casting disparaging comments without having met him).

Mike makes promises of community but then fleeces everyone of what they can offer without giving back. Others have come and gone from there. Dean was just the most vocal online.

Burnaby 49 said, “I have to admit I dropped the ball on Dean. Everything seemed so idyllic in his hobo heaven that I stopped actively checking up on his postings.”

Is that what you spend your time doing? Following up on perceived freemen from all across Canada just to bash them online thinking you have any truth to your statements? Your accusations are based on things you read on the internet. You can’t tell me you are so gullible you think everyone types the truth on Facebook.

Burnaby, you’ve accused Paul Fiola of being FMOTL but truthfully you have very little knowledge of him either. You base your ‘truth’ on your online intel. FMOTL don’t have SIN’s, don’t file taxes, don’t have medical coverage, etc. But Paul works under a SIN, files taxes, has a driver’s license. ONLINE, he questions his government and makes grandiose statements about law and freedom. You are judging his online persona. That makes you a fool.

Lastly, when it comes down to it? You are all foolish, short-sighted and thick-headed when it comes to legal/lawful issues. You would rather banter about accusations and biased rhetoric unfounded in facts. And all your ‘intel’ is found online. Which means you believe everything you read on the internet. Which makes you more simple-minded than my six year old niece who at least has the common sense to make a squinchy face and say, “That doesn’t seem right. Can we look it up more?”

Sincerely,

Shaunda

Food Stress

How is Shaunda?

‘Coping’ the best is the best way to explain.

I am presenting well. Continually reminding myself of all the good things about having Paul home. Like, his company. I missed how much we laughed together. And he gives me foot rubs and leg rubs. He makes sure I have what I need at any time ‘physically’.  If I am puking? He is helping.

He is keeping his promise to get things about his life set back up as quickly as possible so he can be working and we can have a bigger space.

Focusing my energy on helping him maneuver his way through the system and re-establishing himself as ‘Joe Citizen’ has helped me keep from ruminating about other things. I’m thankful for everything he is doing to keep his commitments to me, to us and to our future.

In other words, he isn’t the one bringing stress to the situation. He is doing everything he can to recognize my weaknesses/anxiety triggers. He doesn’t judge me for them, but helps me with them.

And here I sit anxious and panicking over things that are small on the grand scale of things but are so important to me.

The main source of my inner angst? Food. Not necessarily how much we are going through, although the consumption triples when he is here, but the kind of foods we are eating and frequency. I am concerned about the amount I am eating because it’s not healthy for me. I just tend to eat more when I cook meals for another person.

Yes, I’ve reverted back to cooking meals at regular mealtimes. And they are heavy meals. Stew, chili, lots of meat and things that take prep time. It feels like if I am not eating I am planning or prepping for the next meal. It’s the focus of my day. I had gotten used to snack eating. Some salmon jerky here, crackers n cheese there. If I had a ‘meal’ it was usually from a restaurant and I could eat off the leftovers for three days. But now I am eating real meals every day. I don’t enjoy the way I am eating. It leaves me sluggish, and fat feeling, so the only energy I have is to cook another meal.

Also, I’m drinking coffee every day, a habit I had gotten out of by simply not making it. Now I make coffee every morning for him and I was drinking some so it doesn’t get wasted. Sure enough I am up to two or three cups a day. I can feel the caffeine affecting my anxiety!

I feel sick and bloated constantly. I liked my mornings of juice and a yogurt.

It’s not that I want to deny him what he wants or needs in food requirements. He would starve on what I eat after all. And we can’t afford to shop for groceries for both styles of eating. So I am shopping/cooking for ‘us’ in a way more suited to his needs. It’s more expensive, it’s not food I enjoy eating regularly and I feel sick from it.

We’ve talked about the ‘how much we eat’ issue and the fact we can’t afford it until he is working. We’re at the point we need to ration or end up going days without at the end of the month so we are cutting back.

You’d think that would ease the stress but for me it doesn’t. Now I am anxious about food and worried we will lose patience with each other in the face of the stress. That sort of anxiety weighs on me to the point I project it and cause the problem I am worried about.

I’m feeling my tension building. I know I can talk to Paul about this, he will be kind and understanding, but I still get so afraid of the conversation that I leave it too long.

AUTHORS NOTE: It’s been a few days since writing this but I waited to post it. We are getting through things well. It’s only one more week until we have some additional money coming in and we will be able to work out a grocery list/budget that suits both our needs and our budget! ❤

Prolonged Foreplay

WARNING: 18+ CONTENT, SEXUAL, EXPLICIT DETAILS

Paul has been home for several days. Have we fucked? Nope. Why? I started bleeding on the way to get him (because that is just my life). I am sure many are wondering – What the heck? How could you be away for so long and NOT get busy even if you’re riding the red river waves?

To them I recommend reading https://allhoursblog.wordpress.com/2016/12/22/bloodbath/

I told Paul when he arrived home that I was red tide. He was told me that was fine. That we were both tired and we should just relax with each other and rest. So sweet. I WOULD have fucked him the night he got home. But it would be messy and I would be uncomfortable about mess, smell, etc. I wouldn’t have gotten off and he would have been disappointed by that.

So we decided to wait it out. Get our rest, get familiar, spend our time familiarizing again after months.

In the past few days, we’ve spent so much time kissing and just touching each others bodies. Last night he gave me a foot/leg rub that had me vibrating. Followed by a lot of kissing. Then to bed cuddling where I moved my hips to the music in the background and I could feel his hard cock pressing through my PJs. He needs me as much as I need him.

These days of foreplay have been amazing. I love kissing him. I love being in his arms, holding me so strong. I love having him curled up with his head in my lap stroking his hair.

I love feeling his hardness pressed on me wherever. I feel it on my backside while I sleep. I feel it on the backs of my knees when he gives me epic foot rubs. I feel it when he comes up behind me while I am cooking to wrap his arms around me and taste what’s going on.

I’ve been thinking about it so long. We’ve spent the past three days building toward it. My feeling of foreplay is that I am READY!

Tonight is finally the night.

A nice dinner, with a couple bevvies, and then? This fuck festivity gets further than foreplay, finally!

It’s Coming Home Day

Here we are. It’s two days after release and he has been on a bus for over 24 hours. Paul will arrive in just a few hours.

I have a ride arranged. I have one of his favorite foods, slow cooker stew, prepared (or being prepared). I cleaned everything up, vacuumed and got candles set up to light. We have wine and anything else he may want. I’m nervous and excited at the same time.

I wanted to get him something special for his homecoming. Something that would make him feel like he is welcome even though he has repeatedly told me he knows this is MY space until we can find ‘ours’.

I decided on a key. It’s simple enough, I will put it on a special key chain and give it to him tonight when we are alone.

So he knows he is always welcome home.