A bit of an odd confession. I find it relaxing and arousing to have my ears rubbed by someone wearing latex gloves, and it makes me man-pur.
Confession: I find the smell of bleach on clothes pleasing to the senses. On the flip side, I find strong scents like softener to be painful. ~@_@~
Genuine confessions, eh? Okay, let's see how this fits. I suffer from mild depression. the problem with that is, since it's mild, it's easy to overlook or ignore, but it still affects me and my marriage. As a result of depression, my wife and I have not had sex in quite some time. She tells me that I need to practice self-love. I assure her that I've practiced self-love since I was thirteen and that, really, is part of the problem. So now, my hobbies include stalling in my writing, finding distractions, and maybe wallowing a bit in self-pity. What's a step below wallowing? Maybe just bathing in it. But I'm still afflicted by hope so haven't gotten into one of those really good depressive funks that writers seem to revere. Here's hoping!
I confess that I have restart-itis in videogames, meaning that I delete old saves to start new character files and immediately regret my decision.
Another confession: I like K-pop. Yes, this is a deeply shamefur dispray. Please have mercy on my confession.
I think this is by far the darkest confession on this entire thread so far, and possibly will remain so for the duration of this thread's existence.
[steps to the front of the room, glances around nervously at the others in the room, clears throat] My name is Shenanigator, and I like ABBA...and own several of their CDs...
Once, when my husband was away on military duties, I wandered the house naked and performed an erotic dance at the window for a crowd of postmen. To this day I cannot open a gas bill without a frisson of excitement on my lips.
No, they have walkie-talkies. Once word got out from the first postman, or male-man as you say, the whole depot dropped manila circulars and raced to see me. You have to remember I am very beautiful with no clothes on, boys.
My gad, Moose. Can't you see my negligee hanging from the letterbox, and me - upstairs - twirling in my birthday suit, my toenails painted purple - your favourite like your Harry Potters, baby? Write me back.
So I watched the miniseries of The Night Manager last night, the one with Hugh Laurie and Tom Hiddleston. It was jarring seeing Dr. House speaking with an English accent, but he pulled it off pretty well*. Confession part: I'm not going to turn in my het card or anything, but damn Mr. Hiddleston is a fine figure of a man... Spoiler: * Yes, I know, but that was the first role I ever saw him in, and I had no clue that he was English.
I think men aren't sexualized enough in fiction. :3 Would explain why my male characters are topless. Mmmm... man-abs....man-boobs...
