Humiliation Rumination

24 hours ago, I was in another state, having a fun scene with a couple women whose company I found I rather enjoyed.  This was a 2-on-1 scene; I love the energy of those type of scenes.  Prior to this, we did the usual negotiation that you do for casual play.  One of them asked me how I felt about humiliation.  The short answer I gave is that humiliation is hit-or-miss for me and that I may possibly be up for something if it’s a strong interest of theirs.  I generally don’t do much of this type of play with people I haven’t played with before.  Humiliation is so individual that I generally don’t pursue it unless we’ve got a scene or two under our belt together.  Or at least have a really long conversation first.

That simple question made me think on the drive home today.  I still don’t know why certain types of humiliation work or don’t work for me.  I’m not well-read in psychology.  But the first step in finding out the “why” is sorting out what works and what doesn’t.

I already know that the logical side of my brain gets in the way of some things.  For example, small cock humiliation.  I’ve been in enough locker rooms (and around the BDSM community long enough) to know that I’m average size and proportional to my body.  And my brain also blocks all the stereotypical “not a real man” or “worthless” stuff.  That kind of approach makes me think, “If you don’t feel I’m worth your time, there’s the door.  Bye now.”

Other forms of humiliation that I know definitely don’t work for me are what I call “stupid human tricks”.  These are things that are done for the top’s amusement but carry no erotic value, e.g. ridiculous costumes, singing silly songs, or acting the fool at the top’s direction to elicit laughter.  Don’t get me wrong, being laughed at can be über-hot; but sadistic laughter is totally different than “you’re pathetic and I can’t believe you’re doing this” laughter.  Sadistic laughter can get me in to that delectable melty headspace, but the latter completely pulls me out of the scene.

What does work?  Many of the things that work for me are physical in nature and carry some level of social connotation.

Face-spitting is one that hits that button really well.  Forcefully launching a mouthful of saliva right at someone’s face is widely considered insulting, and it also carries that “I just spit in your face- What are you going to do about it?” vibe.  Derogatory, degrading, and very powerful.  Precisely why it appeals to me so much.

Being made to clean the dirt from the soles of the top’s shoes or boots also lands pretty squarely near the humiliation bullseye for me.  It’s just flat-out dirty and disgusting.  It’s literally the lowest point on that person’s being.  I’ve only experienced this a couple times, but based on those experiences, the humiliation factor is fairly strong.

Armpit licking is another I have pretty limited experience with.  Obviously this is best done with no deodorant, as 15-syllable chemicals aren’t the best thing to be ingesting.  Armpits carry that dirty, nasty connotation that I so adore.  Being made to do this involves feeling a certain indignity and powerlessness.  Yow.

Forced feminization (I know, not truly “forced”) is something I’ve touched on before and won’t go into detail in here.  In short, I don’t see femininity as humiliating.  I find this type of play humiliating because it’s playing with all the bullshit crammed down our throats from a young age.  We’re “supposed to” act this way or that because of the way we were born, and anything other than that is cause for social repercussions.  Using this social stigma as a source of humiliation in BDSM is a way of taking life’s BS and making something erotic out of it.  I liken it to women who get off on being called “slut” or “whore”; they’re taught not to be those things by society, and so they take that pressure and turn it into the sexy during a scene.

I imagine the top washing my mouth out with a bar of soap would also carry a strong humiliation groove.  This is pure speculation, but I think since the act carries a certain amount of authoritarian vibe as well as the pure nastiness of it, it would likely have a humiliating effect.

There aren’t any forms of verbal humiliation listed here.  That’s because I haven’t yet found any solid forms of verbal humiliation that consistently have that same kind of effect on me.  To be fair, I haven’t experienced a ton of verbal humiliation, but most of the times I have, it was met on my part with indifference, disbelief, or genuine anger.  We’ve just started to explore cuckolding (as individual scenes, not as a relationship dynamic) and this might possibly provide an effective angle for some verbal.  I’m not real sure what it’d take to hit that verbal humiliation bullseye.  In the meantime, I’m going to keep wandering around this kinky landscape and explore as much as I can.

Another Piece of the Puzzle in Place

In my last relationship, I was with someone who wanted to cuckold me.  I always immediately shot the idea down.  Wouldn’t even consider it.  It was very much in hard limit territory.  But toward the end of that relationship, my fantasies started to shift a little, as they tend to do over time.  Cuckolding was still a hard limit, but a scene involving being made to eat another man’s cum started to creep into my head now and then.  I’d been made to eat my own cum on plenty of occasions, but there was a tiny spark of curiosity developing; I had a feeling it would be more intense and more d/s-ish if it were another man’s cum.

Those conflicting feelings ate at me.  I couldn’t figure out why I could be open to doing that one thing, yet still be a brick wall when it came to cuckolding in general.  It took me a long time, but I sorted it out.

Cuckolding had always been framed up to me as a relationship dynamic.  That was seemingly the only way to do it.  The dom could go out and fuck whoever she wanted, with or without the sub present.  There could be feelings involved with the other men they fucked (sort of a one-sided poly) or they could just be fuck buddies.  I met women at events and talked with others online who wanted to get into cuckolding because it gave them the benefits of poly and/or swinging without the responsibilities; they didn’t want to share their partners with anyone else, yet they wanted to share themselves with others.  It’s a rather lousy thing to tell someone through your actions, “You’re going to learn to handle the heavy emotional baggage involved with this dynamic, but I’m not willing to make the same effort for you.”  This really rubbed me the wrong way as it’s a horribly selfish way to approach a supposedly loving relationship.

In trying to figure it out, I saw all the typical portrayals in femdom and cuckolding groups online, and for some reason, I believed them.  I watched the pitiful, emasculated subs being told they were nothing.  I read the disdain from the other men (fuck buddies, bulls, whatever you want to call them.)  I witnessed the way the women in the groups talked about how their sub’s needs didn’t matter at all since they were disposable and useless.  I started to believe this crap, not realizing it was yet another stereotypical porn fantasy.  I didn’t realize there are so many other ways to do cuckolding.

The cuckolding purists (every group has its overzealous purists) may disagree.  The standard definition of cuckolding is that the couple is married.  And the sub doesn’t get to fuck anyone else or play with anyone else.  Sometimes he doesn’t even fuck his own wife.

In reality, it doesn’t have to be that way.  It’s possible to do cuckolding as an individual scene rather than as a relationship dynamic.  Marriage isn’t necessary to make this happen either.  This is where I stumbled when I first started having those fantasies; I didn’t separate the stereotypes from the reality of it.  For some reason I hadn’t considered that doing a scene like this was even an option.  I thought it had to be the porn cliché or nothing.  It seems that those who get into this in a non-stereotypical way are far less vocal, so I never saw it.

After all that time arguing with myself, tossing ideas around in my head, and wondering why I couldn’t figure this out, I finally have it nailed down.  It simply comes down to cuckolding as a relationship dynamic vs. cuckolding as an individual scene.  While the former is still firmly in hard limit territory for me, the latter can be a mind-blowing, incredibly hot, oh-fuck-please-make-it-stop type of ordeal.  A scene like this can be a shared experience rather than an exercise in selfishness.  Such a basic solution to a problem that followed me around for some time.

My Inaugural Post as a Norse Deity

The other night was a night of expanding boundaries.  And then stomping on those boundaries.  And setting them on fire.  We ended up popping a few play cherries as well in addition to doing some play that was formerly a hard limit for me.  T implied that she had something special planned for that night, but I had no idea what.  I am coming up on a birthday, which is also the same day she collared me two years ago.  It’s a birthdayversary.  So there are celebration-worthy occasions about.

I picked T up from work and we went to my place.  She told me to strip and kiss her feet.  She then made me clean the soles of her sandals with my tongue.  This has a pretty intense cognitive dissonance with me.  All I could think as I was doing it was of her earlier comment that day about how dirty the floor at work is.  My brain wanted it to stop, but certain other parts of me disagreed vehemently.

Afterward she had me crawl into my cage in the living room.  Before closing it, she put earplugs in my ears and a hood over my head.  She had only done this once before, so I started to guess at what was coming: some sort of group scene.

She kept me in the cage for what felt like about an hour.  Eventually letting me out, she led me upstairs, still hooded.  Upon removing the hood, there stood two of our friends, a male-female couple.  I’ve played with the female half of this couple a few times before, and it was always gobs of fun.  She and T wasted no time in getting me into position.  They had me kneel at the foot of my bed (facing the bed), stretched my arms wide, cuffed them to the footboard, and popped a set of nipple clamps on me.  One thing was present that I wasn’t used to seeing during a scene: cake.  They brought a small cake with them, and it was sitting on my dresser.  After some initial biting, scratching, and ass-smacking, they began saying how nice it was that my male friend was going to help decorate my cake.  His partner mentioned that it was even nicer of T to help him with this decoration.  As she said this, T got up on the bed, on all fours, face-to-face with me.  He then proceeded to fuck T from behind while his partner probed my ass and bit me.  In this position, I was unable to turn away, my face a foot or two away from T’s as she moaned and writhed.  She’d occasionally look me in the eye or smile at me, letting me know how much she was enjoying rubbing this in my face.  Her face was saying, “I’m loving this and you can’t do a thing about it!”  Her cheeks became flush after a while, and this time I wasn’t the one causing it.  I’d yank on the cuffs, but they didn’t give at all.  At one point T realized this whole situation had made my dick stand at attention; she just looked at my hard cock and laughed in my face while enjoying someone else’s hard cock.  That absolutely drove me up a wall!

I also had the realization that this was actually happening.  Something that had always been a hard limit for me was now going on.  For real.  Not in my head.  Not on some fet group or in a story, but in my bedroom.  Flesh and blood.  This was reality.

After a while he stopped fucking T and asked for the cake.  To both women’s cheers, he came all over it, and they set it aside.  Afterward, his partner had me suck her dildo, which resulted in an orgasm for her and was ten pounds of sexy.  The three of us played some more while my male friend watched.  Eventually he had enough for round two, and masturbated onto the cake again.

Still kneeling and cuffed in place, T brought the plate of cake over and cut off a bite-size piece.  She dragged it through the cum on the plate and brought it up to my mouth.  “Please, no…” I said, which was met with , “Open wide!”

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She kept feeding me forkful after forkful, making me shudder.  I couldn’t taste the cum at all, but I could tell it was there from the texture.  Not as bad as eating cum straight, but still difficult.  Then T said, “Now I’m going to make it even better” and walked away.  She came back shortly after with a cup of her piss. . . which she promptly poured all over the cake.  They uncuffed me and led me downstairs to the kitchen.  The plate was placed on the floor, and T made me start eating.  It was mushy and warm.  I can’t say I’d ever had mushy and warm cake until that point.  The three of them cut a slice for themselves from a separate cake, one devoid of piss, cum, and other such lavish garnishments.  They stood there eating theirs, remarking on how good it was, while I gagged and swallowed piss cake.  (As I write this, I’m eating a leftover piece of the cake not covered in bodily fluids; they were right, it is really tasty!)

This wasn’t the end though.  T wiped my face off with a paper towel and led me back upstairs.  She showed me a picture online and the trail of comments that followed.  It was a picture she’d posted after our anniversary scene in December.  She’d carved “happy anniversary hardcore legend” into my back that night.  (For an explanation of that nickname, click here.)  The guy who dubbed me with that nickname commented on the photo right after it had been posted, saying he should’ve given me a longer nickname.  I jokingly suggested “Sir Thor LionHammerThunder, Great Defender of the North.”  This exchange occurred soon after the picture was posted in December, and I’d forgotten all about it.

That smartassery came back to bite me.

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This cutting took a while.  Last time she carved words into my back, I had a really hard time not squirming all over the place.  This time, it was a little different.  T started humming softly at one point, which is an ASMR trigger for me.  She was going for a creepy vibe by quietly humming a song while cutting me, which she definitely accomplished.  But at the same time, it relaxed my head just enough to avoid crawling off the bed.  I still felt every cut though.  Also, our female friend kept rubbing my legs (and at one point I think sat on them?) which helped as well.  I was able to tolerate the cutting without any real sudden jerks this time.

Soon after, our friends left.  Laying on the bed with T, I found myself spontaneously begging her to let me cum.  Begging is still difficult for me, so the fact that I did it without her telling me to speaks to how worked up I was.  I was stunned when she said yes, but I wasn’t going to question that.  After six months without being allowed to orgasm at all, it felt amazing.  Fireworks.  It felt like my brain was short-circuited for a minute or so after.  She did have me eat all my cum afterward, but I was still so floaty and happy that I got to cum that it wasn’t as bad as usual.  Strangely, after long periods of chastity, when I finally get to orgasm again, I sometimes get into a giggle fit right after.  I had a small one after this orgasm too.  Definitely a solid way to end the night!

Shedding Limits

During a conversation with T the other night, the topic of bisexuality came up.  She (and many others in the community) has been teasing me for years about how she wants to see me get fucked by or suck off another man.  In regard to me having sex with another man, she said, “Yeah, that’ll never happen.”  That made me think.  There are a lot of things in BDSM that once elicited the reaction of, “oh, hell no, never” from me.  And those are things I do now.  For example, drinking piss and getting fucked by a woman with a strap-on were once hard limits for me.  Over time, these things somehow morphed into things I’d be willing to do if pushed hard enough.  Often it happened slowly enough that I didn’t realize it, until one day I realized, “Hey, this isn’t a hard limit anymore.  I might be willing to do this for the right person if persuaded properly.”

More recently, eating another man’s cum was a limit.  But even this limit went away, and T made me do that at one point a while back.  That was not something I ever thought I’d do.  Yet it happened.  Even watching her fuck or suck another man and be made to clean up afterward is no longer a limit.  That’s huge for me.  I don’t know why these things can morph over time.  What’s more, I’m not sure if there’s a conscious way to change limits.  Even if there is, is it ethical to attempt to alter someone else’s limits?  I imagine that depends on the scope of d/s within the relationship.  (Note that there is a difference between trying to slowly change limits over the long term vs. just trampling those limits nonconsensually.)

In regard to my current hard limits, who knows what tomorrow will bring?  I’ve been surprised at the limits which have evaporated thus far, and I’m sure that any limits that disappear in the future will take me off guard as well.  I’m only a decade into the BDSM journey, and from what I’ve seen, we never stop learning, growing, and changing.

When it comes to bisexuality in particular, my issue is that I’m simply not attracted to anyone presenting as masculine, regardless of what’s in their pants.  I am, however, very attracted to femininity.  And parts are different than presentation.  So there may be a workaround there.  Even then, it’s not an experience I’m actively pursuing.  I could see this type of scene working to some extent, at least in theory.  I do reeeeeeeally get turned on by oral forms of dominance- foot worship, armpit licking, strap-on fellatio, cum eating, rimming, gags, mouth soaping (at least in theory) etc.  So that aspect of it at least has potential.

Erasing limits, from my experience, tends to run smoothly when it happens at its own pace.  Then again, I’ve never experienced pushing past limits by any means other than that (for example, using d/s to nudge it along) so I wouldn’t really know.

Sexy, Sexy Scent

Something has been puzzling me for a long time.

Why do they make those little packets of square, bright orange crackers?  Fluorescent orange is not a natural color for a cracker to be.

But also, something more BDSM-related has been puzzling me too.

I have a thing for scent.  For example, foot worship is always sexy, but doing it after she’s been in boots or shoes all day is ten times hotter.  For me it seems to trigger something on a more primal level.  My libido kicks into overdrive.  (Which is also hellaciously frustrating when I’m in chastity.)  Foot worship, the various smells of sex, the scent of leather, armpit licking… They all drive me up a wall.  Maybe it’s a pheromone thing.  Or maybe, at least for the foot and armpit licking, there’s a certain humiliation edge there.

A friend who is involved both in the local BDSM community as well as the gay Leather community recently verified something I’d been hearing for years: Scent is also big among the gay Leather crowd.  It’s actually pretty heavily fetishized there.  They embrace various levels of musk.  They revel in sweat.  (Obviously this isn’t true for every single leatherman out there, but as a whole it’s more true than not.)  They don’t try to cover it up.  A Leather convention can be a rather intense olfactory experience.

So why isn’t that the case in the rest of the BDSM community?  Why is scent such an abhorrent thing here?  Is it simply social conditioning?  We’re bombarded with the idea that all the various body odors are repulsive and should be washed away, covered up.  Is it really that simple?  Or are there other layers of possibility?

Going to a munch, it’s understandable that most people will attempt to be odor-free or pleasant-smelling.  However in a more sexual/play-oriented atmosphere, like a play party, I’m surprised that scent doesn’t come into play for most people.  We use all the other senses in some way, so why not smell?  Sight is on overload at parties with all the sexy leather, latex, heels, lingerie, and nekkidity. There are a ton of ways to stimulate touch, from sensual to painful.  For taste, there’s boot worship with the taste of leather, washing a sub’s mouth out with a bar of soap, or piss play.  On the auditory end of things, there’s the sound the cane makes as it cuts the air, the sound of heels clicking on the floor, or the moans and laughter of people playing.  But what about scent?  Apart from the occasional whiff of leather, there’s not much to stimulate that sense in this environment.

Scent is subjective.  In the context of a party, people can mostly agree on what constitutes sexy when it comes to the other senses.  But scent is far more disparate.  A scent that gets one person worked up might make another walk quickly out of the room.  This is one reason I think most scent-based forms of play don’t happen during public play.  Those who do practice it often seem to do it privately.  But since it’s not talked about, how common is it?

Cleanup on Aisle Three

At a munch a little while back, I was talking with someone about all the different relationship dynamics that exist out there.  He mentioned cuckolding as one of those dynamics.  I realized then that I haven’t clearly elucidated my evolving thoughts on cuckolding, not even to myself.  This post is also for me to straighten out my own thoughts and finally put them down in a more tangible form.

Cuckolding has always been a limit for me, as has everything to do with it.  And I mean this about every form of cuckolding.  The most common form of cuckoldry is when the woman has sex with others but the man doesn’t.  However I’ve also seen cuckoldry applied in the sense of one-sided polyamorous relationships, one-sided restrictions on casual play, or d/s relationships in which the woman has multiple subs yet the subs are all completely monogamous to her.  So there are a lot of varieties of cuckolding.

Anything vaguely related to this type of dynamic has always been a limit as well, whether we’re talking about eating another man’s cum, watching my partner’s sexual activities with someone else, or even teasing about it.  My only guess is that these things hit a little too close to home after having been cheated on about a year before I got into the BDSM community.  The woman who cheated on me had been interested in cuckolding me, but I wouldn’t go for it.  She did it anyway without my consent.  Which, of course, ended that relationship.

In the next relationship after that happened, I was with someone (my previous partner, G) who had an interest in the cuckolding dynamic, but I wouldn’t even consider anything to do with it because the thought of it was just too painful.  I couldn’t imagine going through something like that and seeing it as erotic.  My reaction was essentially a brick wall.  I instantly shut that idea down every time she brought it up.  It was just too much of a sensitive issue for me.

This all slowly started to morph into something else over the years though.

Not long before my last relationship ended, some of this was beginning to transition into more of a soft limit for me.  In other words, things I’d be willing to do with the right person under the right circumstances.  T and I have even taken our first foray into this type of play a while back when she made me lick another man’s cum from her feet.  That’s not something I ever thought I’d be able to do, and it was one of the more difficult yet incredibly sexy scenes I’ve ever been a part of.  Even during the year that’s elapsed since that scene, things have changed.  When we did that scene, I was not ok with seeing who it was; it was essentially anonymous cum from my perspective, though she obviously knew who it came from.  The anonymity in this kind of scene is no longer a need for me.  T has teased me about making me watch her fuck someone else and then having me clean her up, and my reaction was not like it would’ve been years ago.  Instead of instant repulsion and anger, my reaction was more along the lines of cognitive dissonance, my brain both getting aroused and slowly backing away at the same time.  (Admit it, you now have a mental image of my brain with little legs, gently walking backwards.)

This sensitive issue of my partner having sex with other men has slowly changed into something still powerful, but no longer riddled with negative emotions.  It seems to have a different air about it now; obviously consent makes a difference.  Doing this type of play is a way of turning it around, humiliating me, rubbing my face in it, and delighting in it… not hiding it.  That’s a world apart from infidelity.  It takes sex with others from being something shameful and hidden to something more erotic, a shared experience, a form of play.

Our relationship is semi-open, or monogamish, whatever you want to call it.  We each have a short list of people we can be intimate with.  Definitely not a cuckolding setup; we each have the same freedom.  During that aforementioned conversation at a munch a few months back, I was asked about whether cuckolding would ever work for me.  In the future, I have no idea, since my kink has evolved over the years.  I can’t say with any certainty that I’ll never do X or Y.  As for right now, the only way cuckolding would work for me would be if I were involved every single time.  If I were to agree to complete sexual monogamy while she didn’t, I’d need to be part of every one of those encounters in some way, whether it’s watching, cleanup, or something else; otherwise, I think I’d grow resentful.

Just reading that last sentence, I’m a little startled at the change from when I first started out in BDSM, or even just 3-4 years ago.  It’s not something I ever thought I’d find myself saying.  It also makes me wonder what other areas will open up for me in the coming years.  Yay for growth!

Happy Fucking Anniversary

Last night, T and I celebrated two years together.  But of course, we didn’t do it in the traditional way.  We did get dressed up and went out for sushi, but afterward, the normalcy stopped.

Back at my place, she had me strip, then told me to get some earplugs and meet her in the living room.  I froze a little when she told me that, just because of memories of the other time she had me put in earplugs.  I wondered if it would be something similar, and I got nervous.  In the living room, she had me put the earplugs in, then she put a hood and my collar on me before having me get in the cage.  (No, I don’t have a dog, but I have a dog cage in my living room.  Doesn’t everyone?)  After what I can only guess was about 20 minutes, I felt a rush of cold air and knew that she’d opened the front door.  A little bit later, she let me out and led me by the collar upstairs to my bedroom.  When she removed the hood, I looked up and saw her standing there along with a few of our friends.  All women, so I breathed a sigh of relief at the lack of cum-eating that would take place.

The earplugs came out, and one woman started with some rope work; she did a chest harness on me, then tied my wrists together and looped the rope over my head, forcing my hands up above my head.  T then walked in front of me and lifted my chin a little.  She smiled sweetly, then spit in my face.  She’d never done that before, and it was a shock to me.  That was fifty pounds of sexy.  This was immediately followed by a swift kick to the balls.  The women then took turns kicking me in the balls.  A ballbusting bonanza.  One after another, they rotated through, each giving me a few kicks and dropping me to the floor before another woman would take over.

After doing this for a while, they brought me to the foot of the bed and bent me over the footboard.  The ropes around my wrists were each tied to the corners of the footboard.  T put some nipple clamps on me which were then secured to the headboard by a long rope, keeping me bent over.  (The clamps eventually fell off and were replaced with a long rope securing my collar to the headboard, which also kept me bent over.)  They then proceeded to take turns working on my ass with various implements of ass destruction.  Canes, paddles, hands, floggers… I lost track of what was happening, especially since one woman would be working on my ass while another would focus on my upper body, rubbing vampire gloves over me or tormenting my nipples.  Occasionally one of them would lift my face and spit in it, then continue with what she was doing.  They kept switching positions and implements, thoroughly confusing my body.

At one point, T said, “Now it’s time for the next phase.”  I was relieved, but also wondering what “the next phase” entailed.  I felt something cool and slick on my ass, and saw one of our friends come around in front of me wearing a strap-on.  Before I knew it, there was a cock in my ass and one in my mouth.  All I could do was pull against the bondage and let out muffled sounds.  They switched positions after a while, so now T was fucking my mouth and a friend fucking my ass.  At one point, we ended up moving to the floor, where the fuckery continued.  The other friends, lacking strap-ons, used gloved hands to fuck me.  They all took turns.  It made me feel used, in a sexy kind of way.  Especially when being fucked with a strap-on in both ends at the same time.  I’d never experienced double penetration before.  It was incredible.  It tripped that yes/no response in me that I find so hot, and it made me feel conquered.

T had me lay on my back on the bed and strapped a dildo gag to my face.  It has a small, stubby dildo on the inside of the gag as well, so it feels like she’s fucking my mouth when she uses it.  As she straddled the cock protruding from my face, the other woman with the strap-on pulled my legs up and started fucking me.  T faced the other woman, so all I could see was her ass in my face, going up and down, inches away from me.  T was getting off on my face while someone else violated my ass.  That was beyond hot.  Yowza.  T collapsed, flushed and sweating, onto the bed.

Then it was on to the finale.  T had me lay on my stomach, then donned rubber gloves and cleaned off my back.  She pulled out a scalpel.

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(If you’re confused by the “hardcore legend” part, check out this post to find out how that came about.)

She wins at anniversarying.  That was an incredible night, and not something I expected at all.