Truths Don’t Have to Hurt

Monica Carvalho SHOP

When I started this blog back in 2010 it was because people were pleading with me to write it. The very same friends who I would recount details from my wild nights with would coax me, “Everyone wants to hear this, you must create some thing!” So, I did and at the time it took off. Sooo I Met This Guy fill the void in the time post Sex In The City and pre Girls.

Without much effort promoting the platform the readership skyrocketed, media features were published and then I got bored and my actual fashion career began to takeoff. There was barely time to live the life let alone write about it.

Now I’m faced with the self inquiry, “Why am I doing this again?” No one is asking me to write and the readership is a fraction of what it used to be… Honestly a podcast would be the more obvious medium in 2022. For Christ’s sake even Carrie got that right in the SITC reboot and no I haven’t watched it (or Girls for that matter).

So back to the question, what am I getting out of this and why am I taking precious moments of my day to create?

The exhibitionist part of me takes an immense amount of pleasure knowing a part of you gets off reading about my sex, but you already knew that. To be truly honest is to reveal some thing I spent my entire life to keep hidden, even from myself.

To be truly honest means I must participate in the destigmatizing of shame around the subject of childhood molestation; a word that even as I write it on this page (yes I hand write all my first drafts) refuses to be scrawled smoothly.

I continue to share my journey exploring polyamory with the hook of sexual pleasure because for me, being able to flaunt this pleasure is my way of reclaiming something that someone tried to take away from me when I was much too young to be experiencing that kind of sexuality.

Every time I put pen to paper and re-count the glorious ecstasy I share with my various partners, it’s my small victory over those who tried to victimize me. I do not share this because I want your sympathy or because I need you to understand who I am, but because perhaps you’ve been struggling with some aspect of life.

Perhaps you need to know that bad fucking shit happens and it does not need to break you. You have the power to rewrite your story, heal and live for yourself in the way that you see fit. If there is one thing you take away from my ramblings, I hope it’s the strength and confidence to ask for what you want, embrace your sexuality however that manifests for you and accept nothing less than the orgasms and endless pleasure you deserve.

Now, let’s get back to the sexy stuff.

A Leave Of Absence

Keating Sherwin photo (c) Elizabeth Waterman

Keating Sherwin photo (c) Elizabeth Waterman

It’s been 9 years since I stopped writing the blog. Why stop? The stories never ended, the lifestyle carried on swingingly... but I was an addict, a self proclaimed workaholic. I was proud, smug even. I’d selected the very best of all the addictions; one that slid under even the most advanced of radars. Like all addictions, I constantly needed more.

My career advanced and I began working 17 to 20 hours a day; there was no time left to have a life and write about it. So I switched gears, throwing myself into the work as it came, climbing the ladder of success as a budding stylist. Music videos, short films, top tier editorial spreads, New York editor for a Canadian indie publication, styling top models, celebrities, launching a creative agency, a not-for-profit foundation, a private members club... I was in my mid-twenties and my resume read like I was 45. All the while my personal life provided another level of distraction, still devious and deliciously scandalous as ever.

Not only did the workaholism sneak by undetected but people praised me for it commending me on my work ethic and dedication, for my commitment to the job and ability to take on so much at once, wear so many hats, fill so many roles.

A master of disguise, I hid my addiction even from myself until I was so deep in, so broken, that there was no denying it. If I didn’t change I would die and as I approached my 29th birthday I knew I had about three years left if I was lucky.

The men, the women, the work, the parties, the uppers and downers (prescribed and unprescribed); a delicate balance keeping afloat the sinking ship that was my physical and mental well-being. A new level of exhaustion was beginning to sink in and it was looking like I may never bounce back.

No amount of sleep could make up for all the sleepless nights. That last summer in New York I was pulling one to three all-nighters a week, having launched a new business, still consulting for another client and producing a runway show for New York fashion week. Each day I struggled further to perform basic human functions.

I was smoking half an ounce of weed a week just to round out the edges from the daily 80 mgs of Adderall I was taking to function; a volume well beyond the scope of sorting out the ADHD that persisted. On top of that, a new Doctor had come to the conclusion that if the one antidepressant wasn’t working I should probably add a second to the mix just to “get level”.

New York had always been home, even before I ever stepped foot on the hot dark pavement. Nine years later I knew if I wanted to live I’d have to leave. For the first time in my entire life I wanted to live more than I wanted to die. It was time to push pause on New York.

New Beginnings; Chloe Revealed

Dark Angels, (c) Elizabeth Waterman  all rights reserved

In a good love story the protagonists are constantly being pulled apart, while simultaneously being pushing together. It’s the thrill of seeing them tortured by their love that makes our hearts beat just a little bit faster in the best way possible.

The following are not love stories but some of them will make your heart race, your body temperature rise and possibly evoke a need for self pleasure.

Good. Now I have you exactly where I want you. Curious, open and anticipating exactly what will follow.

Whatever it is that you get from reading this, enjoy it. My kink is knowing some of you are wishing you’re the man or woman in the story, while others are voyeurs peering into a world they have no desire to join but always enjoy the show. I get off knowing that you’re getting off.

An act of exhibition and a demonstration of pleasure for pleasure’s sake, this blog examines sex, love, relationships and life through the lens of female pleasure.

It’s unreasonable to say you don’t like tomatoes, when you’ve never tried tomatoes... with that in mind, join me down the rabbit hole of sexual fantasy, trial and error. Although if I’m being radically honest, I’ve yet to try something I didn’t very much enjoy.

Sooo I Met This Guy had to transform into Chloe Is My Alias because the stories are no longer solely about sexual encounters with just men. Being anonymous after all these years feels unnecessary and not the feminist thing to do. To truly live by my words I have to come out as myself.

So with that, my name is Gabrielle Swan and Chloe Is My Alias.