Tangent - Girls - Part 3

And the stream of consciousness continues.

I think it can be safely said that trust in one's hypnotist is a huge component of a successful trance. After all, you're putting something very valuable into someone's (possibly a stanger's) hands. And it seems that there is a near instantaneous decision on the part of the subject as to whether his or her trust will be given. I know that, having spent some little time on YouTube exploring different videos, that for me it only takes one or two sentences to decide if I am really going to commit to the experience or not. (And no, I don't watch the vids, I just listen to them. Honestly, the things people will put on a screen thinking your attention will be caught or your eyes will tire out are really amusing. As long as you don't have to look at them. I have a very nice paint splatter on my wall that works just as well, thanks.)

When I first started experimenting with hypnosis, I was genuinely curious about whether or not it would matter if the voice was male or female. The first files I listened to were all male, but but when a new female voice was recommended to me, I had a listen and was hooked immediately. There's something about a sing song intonation that, when coupled with a pleasant tone, really works for me, but she would have had me without that. Identical scripts read by different voices have different impacts of course, but what ever it is that makes one more effective than the other is harder to pin down.

Nowadays I'm mostly tranced by reading, which, as I have mentioned before, is something that I really didn't think would work. So it was incredibly surprising when a block of short, badly formatted text put me under. I was not completely unaware of who I was dealing with; I did, after all, read his profile, so I had a name, a pic, and an idea of his interests before I began to read. Did this effect things? I really don't know. Nor do I know how my mind decided that it was okay to make a personal connection with someone based on that scant information and a few lines of text. And no one I've asked has been able to explain just how that instant decision is made. I can't explain, and I'm the one who made it! Answers I've received from other people range from "I don't know" to "don't ask me because I can't tell you," so I guess I'll have to live in the dark on this one.

But wait you say! Isn't this blog supposed to be about girls? Where's the girl?

So I made a friend (SD) who agreed to put me under as part of research for this blog. I questioned whether or not I would go down deeply for her, if at all. Would it feel different? Without an audio track, I wouldn't be able to say that the intonation or the timber of her voice had been appealing as I had with the YouTube video.

Um. Well. Yes.

Quickly and deeply. Very deeply.

She engaged my trust completely and utterly. I came out of trance feeling wonderful (well, REALLY wonderful, if you know what I mean.) (And you do.) I remembered everything, which somehow made the experience more intimate, including the trigger she left behind should we play again.

Sadly, I didn't have the foresight to save a transcript of that session. Not sadly, the next day, with complete success, she used the trigger "just to test it out." And the next day, reinforcing it. Which brings us to this morning, New Year's Day, upon which I have gotten up obscenely early in order to write before I go to my day job. I was in the middle of posting a story on a different site when I glanced down at the chat window and saw my trigger from SD. And dropped incredibly deep instantly. It felt like that moment on a roller coaster when you start to fall and your stomach doesn't quite move with you for the first moments. With a few innocuous words she took me so deep I had tunnel vision. Deeper, if I'm honest, then anyone else has been able to do that fast. Some of that has to do with what I know her expectations to be; she prefers sensual to sexual which makes an experience with her unfraught with some of the expectations I find elsewhere. Some of that has to do with the fact that we have become friends and I trust her. But a lot of it has to do with that connection, that rapport, that came into existence after reading the first words of her induction.*

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* A little insight into just how suggestible I am--while describing this experience I went back under from the memory. This happens to me a lot.

Tangent - Girls - Part 2

Stream of consciousness continued...

You see them everywhere, that pair, the two girls walking together, on their way to class, going to a movie, shopping; it doesn't matter where really, you've seen them, the ones you look at and wonder, "Are they just friends, or are they more than friends?" Sometimes it's hard to tell what prompts the question. Is it wardrobe, body language, behavior? Is it the combination of those specific girls together, or is it something about one of them that really sparks your interest? Didn't you wish you could stop and ask them? If you had, you might have been told "why yes, we are more than friends," but often as not, the answer would be no. I should know, I am always one of those girls.

My closest and oldest friend and I for years got asked by strangers if we were dating. On one memorable occasion, (walking from the car to the movie theatre), we were nearly run down by a kid on a skate board who yelled out "Fucking lesbians!" because it was, of course, our fault for being on his sidewalk and that was the best insult he could come up with. I think it bothered her; I couldn't have cared less. When I played in a pool league, I had another friend who used to get teased by the all the drunk rednecks about how she and her girlfriend were doing and I know she hated it. Neither of them were comfortable with the thought that someone would think they were a lesbian, and in the latter's case she was outright offended because she would never do something disgusting like that, thank you very much.

I guess I'm lucky, because I got exposed early in my life to the idea that it was perfectly fine for a woman to love another woman or a man to love another man. I read a lot and way out of my reading level, prefering fantasy and science fiction by authors that treated all partnerships as acceptable. My parents, while disapproving due to their religious beliefs, kept their opinions to themselves on all hot button topics so carefully that I never even knew what their opinion was until I was an adult. I got to make my own opinions. Even though I was nominally religious (something I outgrew by the time I was in my 20's) I never adopted that pervasive christian attitude of thinking that other lifestyles to mine are evil. I might not understand, but in my world that doesn't equal "bad," it equals "educate yourself." Interning with a theatre company in my mid-20's further broadened my scope of experience. I met every flavor of gay there, got to be friends with people, was entertained by people (there's nothing quite like having a professional drag queen half out of makeup explain to you the best way to shave your legs when it comes to mind-expanding experiences.)

My theory on why I am always one of that pair of girls has a lot to due with appearances. My best friend for years was always the well-pressed, properly dressed, extra make-up, manicured type, while I prefer just to throw on jeans and a t-shirt, throw my hair up on my head, and run. So in this case I think it's the contrast. When she came to the California desert in 1999 to help me move back to Oregon, she wore tailored dress shorts, a nice shirt, lots of makeup, jewelry, fancy sandals, the whole nine yards. It was about 105 degrees out when we started driving. I was wearing jean shorts, one of my ex-husband's old army tees, and flip flops. We got asked if we were a couple every time we stopped.

It took me a long, long time to realize that maybe the reason that I am one of that pair of girls is that people are getting a vibe off of me that leads their minds in that direction. For years I said that I appreciated girls aesthetically; they were fun to look at but that was all. I got hit on by lesbians all the time, but it was never by someone who was even vaguely appealing to me. (I remember particulary a young lady with whom I worked who, one night as we dropped her off after a night at the bar, took my hand in hers and tongued my palm while smiling what she thought was enticingly up into my eyes. I suppose my skin wouldn't have crawled quite so much had I not known that she'd been puking in the bathroom of the bar before we left.)

For the past 4 or 5 years I have been single, celibate, and living pretty much like a hermit, having spent the previous 7 or 8 years living a life that was pretty poisonous to me. I finally got to the point where I had to excise all the crap, and my social circle dropped dramatically. Basically, I'd been wound as tight as a person could possibly be for years, refusing to admit it, and really hurting myself emotionally because of it.

But I really did spend all that time discovering new things about myself. And one of those things is that girls are more than just fun to look at. At the risk of sounding ridiculously cliched, it's what's inside that counts, and while gender may contribute to your persona it doesn't define your attractiveness to me.

So. I am, in fact, that girl indeed. Better not walk too close to me in public if you're uncomfortable with the idea that someone is going to think that you're my girlfriend, because it will happen.