Lolita Wolf's Predictions & Predilections

Spent an evening with Michele Serchuk, DeLano and Seraphin. Dinner at Mooncake (a lobster sandwich for me) and then some fabulous creepy puppetry theater – The Fortune Teller by Erik Sanko.

As we entered the theater, I looked at the ticket taker and it was Andy. “You’re Andy!”
He looked at me, “Is it you?”
“Yes,” I giggled and we went into the theater.

Andy and I broke up almost exactly 20 years ago. He was my last vanilla boyfriend.

Andy was a real hipster and together we did the downtown club scene. He was an artist and a musician. He was friends with Anita Sarko. He loved Rush and Ayn Rand. Andy would scold me because I smiled too much. “Stop smiling. You look like a dork.” In those pre-goth days, you were supposed to be pale and skinny and you were supposed to scowl.

Andy also scolded me in bed. I would talk fantasy shit like “Fuck me,” And “Use me,” yadda yadda.
He told me, “Don’t talk that way. It’s degrading.”
I suppose it was degrading, but that shit was getting me hot. I was too timid to defend my dirty talk.

And he wanted to know why I always wanted to do it doggy style. I had too much shame about my sexuality to tell him how I enjoyed it when he slammed into me and how I liked how his balls bounced rhythmically against my clit.

So, we broke up and I discovered a different downtown club scene. I went to the Vault and Paddles every weekend. I met all sorts of people and I learned about SM. (Nobody called it BDSM back then.)

I ran into Andy two years after the breakup and he asked me, “So, what are you into these days?”
I proudly told him, “I’m into S&M!”
He gave me a sour look and said, “Yeah, now you’re into S&M.”
What a retard. I didn’t bother saying anything. I walked away. I had always been into it and he was too stupid to see that. Of course, at the time I was too uneducated to put a name to it.

As we left the theatre tonight, I smiled and told him that I still had the bed he had made for me and the lampshades, too. I think he was surprised. My friends and I walked out, but I stopped and went back. “I have a blog. Here’s the address.” I walked away and over my shoulder I giggled, “It’s a sex blog.”

It felt so good to giggle.