Jackie or Marilyn

A week ago a Twitter user asked the perennial question, “Jackie or Marilyn?” Would you rather be the elegant, stylish idol Jackie O, or sexpot goddess Marilyn Monroe? (For the younger generation, Team Jennifer or Angelina?) Virgin/slut, wife/mistress, girlfriend/hook-up, whatever paradigm you use to explain the roles available to women in society. They always boil down to good girl versus bad girl. Which one are you? An even better question, which one would you be?*

I remarked to my friend as she introduced me to her friends last night that I had not heard my real name uttered in a long time. I go by a pseudonym for my domina name, and, as such, adopted it when partying in the scene. I also use it for online dating with only casual prospects or with my overtly sexy secondary profile (I know OkCupid prohibits this, so sue me). I haven’t developed any dissociative disorders as of yet but it’s early.

Kidding aside, I do feel the conflict between my vanilla self (which should be my real self) and my fetishist self. It can be hard to ascertain what you want and what you are looking for in a relationship or sexual/play partner when those qualities can be totally different depending on which side you’re talking about. How do I reveal my kinky side to relationship-material prospects for my vanilla, good girl self? How do I get relationship-worthy prospects when I lead with my lifestyle as conversation?

One of my Twitter followers said my blog description contained an oxymoron. I can’t be a narcissistic romantic or a romantic narcissist. I told him to suck it, and then I explained that I really embraced those aspects, along with my other label as a fetishist. I’m living proof that it is possible to be a kinky romantic or a romantic fetishist. It simply means that I want flowers and sincere tokens of love along with my bondage and anal play.

I thought I’d found one of those guys who could accept the good girl/bad girl parts in Shaw. He was the bartender I’d attempted to date from Labor Day weekend. That prospect crashed and burned pretty quickly by Thursday after the holiday. We met while drinking a few beers and smoking in the bar I always frequent because of Bar Boss. B.B. had no idea we were talking ever since Jr. Bar Boss introduced us.

Well, fuck me over with a wooden spoon, I was so surprised when Shaw texted me he was canceling our date that Thursday. Oh, get ready for the reason: “Didn’t know you slept with B.B. I don’t date girls who hook up with my friends.” Monkey balls. After a flurry of texts, I told him that he shouldn’t be surprised since he met me in that bar: “Chances are girls you meet have slept with B.B. or Jr. B.B.” No matter how I tried to explain how it didn’t even count (never heard of the five minute rule?), he didn’t budge from his “rule.” I told him he was losing out on something good by penalizing me for one night of bad judgment five months ago. I then BBM’d B.B.: “I hate your dick!”

Second rejection happened less than seven days afterward. One of the guys I was dating previously and I had started talking again. He told me he needed time to mull over this “new, interesting” part of me after our date. I kid you not: he dropped me less than 12 hours after making out with me and wanting to take me home for sex. Let’s say I gave goodbye make-out kisses around 1:30AM. By 12:30PM the next day, he was done, dude.

Overly polite, he made the longest and nicest brush-off I’ve heard in a while. He couldn’t handle my lifestyle and kinky aspects in a relationship and yet, he also couldn’t sleep with me casually without having “emotional hiccups.” He was very close to being straight-edge as a recovering alcoholic so I respected his over-analyzed decision, even as I thought how much more stereotypically girly he sounded. (My friend asked where he was hiding his vagina.) Great, thanks for not giving me dick.

I won’t even go into the rest of the week and how I didn’t get dick three more times. All I can say is that I have high standards for emotional intimacy. Sex should be fun and easier to achieve in this Craigslist, casual connections world we live in. How can it be that my good girl can’t find love and now my bad girl can’t get sex? Do I stay the course as Jackie and surprise them with my kinky Marilyn? Or do I get their attention with my skirt-flying Marilyn and keep them with my girlfriend-material Jackie? The challenge lies in having men (and women) see my quirky girlfriend parts of my personality along with my bad-girl looks or sexy self.

I’m taking on that challenge now with Future Doctor.

My fellow domme Chris said, “No one I know likes anyone anymore.” I nodded in full agreement until I remembered my one exception for the moment, F.D. The last time I slept with him, I mentally kicked myself in the vag for liking him so much. I worry that he will only see me as hook-up material because he calls me “damn sexy” and we haven’t had any recent dates that didn’t involve sex.

Hard to show my cards all at once to a man who fills my boyfriend check-off requirements well. I desperately want to be his Jackie who gets the midday texts of “Thinking of you. Have a great day” on top of being his Marilyn, who gets pussy-pounded three times in one night/morning-after. Tall order, right?

*P.S. My complicated answer is I aspire to be Jackie but I settle for being Marilyn.

Ma Cherie (@CherieDAmour) is in the market for a boy/girlfriend, kinky sex partner, willing slave, and sugar daddy, though not necessarily in that order. When not working as a dominatrix, Ma Cherie is cruising online dating sites, hitting up fetish parties, and regularly pleasuring herself. Unironically, her favorite song is “Kiss With A Fist.”