Rumors of my disappearance... slightly exaggerated

I'm still here. And my story is still incomplete.

My last post sort of left a bad feeling in my gut, because I went in a direction I didn't really want to go with the blog. Into the area of laundry-listing things. I saw a value in it at the time. There was a story I was trying to tell. But I think it was really an easy sidetrack from continuing with what I came here to do, which was to tell you a story.

The story is really, really close to being complete, though. The only "relationship" left to discuss is my relationship at present. And I just don't know if I can or should go there. She reads this blog. I haven't sorted out yet whether or not it's good for us, or bad for us, that she reads the blog. I haven't sorted out whether it's good for us, or bad for us, that I write the blog. And I most definitely am not sure if it's good for us, or bad for us, that I write about us, and that she reads it. She's interested in it. Of course. I know she is. It may be just a mild curiosity, or it may be something else. She also knows that "next up" on the table of contents of my fetish life is her.

I could sit here and go on tangents from now until eternity, never getting to the point of telling you about the present. I could tell you exactly what things turn me on the most. I could name every actress over whom I have ever masturbated. I could tell you all my favorite smoking movies. I could write fantasy stories here, as so many others do. And you'd keep reading, because it would be interesting. Interesting to you. Because you share this fetish.

But that's not really what I came here to do.

What I really came here to do was to be okay with this. To get the whole story down, accurately, from start to finish. And to be okay with it. To be able to live with the fetish in my life, without hiding, and without guilt. At least in the context of my relationship. I don't expect I should be able to tell all my friends and co-workers, "I've got a smoking fetish, and I'm OK!!" Because that's just absurd. Private things are private. But I should be able to talk about it with my partner. And if it is mutually acceptable and there is good communication, it should be something that can be explored. And perhaps I should even be able to talk about it with my closest friends. The point is, I can't keep running away from who I am, or hoping it will go away.

So I need to finish this.

And I just thought of an idea...