Dark Romance and Ovulation Goggles

Now that I’m closer to 50 than 40, ovulation week is trying to make me lose my mind. Sometimes I can’t think properly because visions of filth crowd my brain. There’s a drummer in my cooch sending ancient messages that my brain frequently mistranslates as “text him.” 

Beer goggles: the more liquor you consume, the more attractive people become to you. With ovulation goggles, you suddenly find yourself attracted to people or actions you normally wouldn’t. Because your body is whispering procreate procreate procreate constantly, it gets harder and harder to hear the logic part of your brain saying, “girl, don’t do it!” 

I’m not really interested in dating or hook-ups right now because I don’t feel like I can show up as my best self. I let my erotic audio subscriptions lapse because money. I could reconnect with old situations here in Nashville, but I’m tired of men who expect me to operate around their schedules yet can never be available when I am. So I’ve been reading really spicy romance novels to give the drummer in my cooch sheet music. 

I recently read a dark romance called Lights Out by Navessa Allen. It’s about a woman who falls for a mask kink [link is SFW] influencer on TikTok who decides to see if she means all the thirsty comments she leaves on his posts. The list of trigger warnings is as long as SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER the knife he stabs into her mattress and makes her ride. Yes. She rides the handle of a knife. 

Dark romance is not usually my ministry. When I do indulge, I tend to stick to basic stuff like men of the cloth, infidelity, why choose, sex clubs… That kind of thing. Gun, knife, and blood play, stalking, and kidnapping do not give me sexual thrills. Obsession and codependency are also not my bag. That being said, I give Lights Out 4 out of 5 stars and am open to reading the next installment in the series, although I’ve heard there is a dramatic drop in quality of writing. I’m sure my rating is skewed by the perimenopausal ovulation cycle that is clouding my thoughts, BUT I kept reading something I normally would’ve DNF’ed by 10% into the e-book, and that’s not something to scoff at. 

Despite the themes of the book, it’s actually fairly light in tone (it does eventually go off the rails) and there’s a lot of good banter between Aly and The Faceless Man. There are plenty of sex scenes, but for a while, it felt like the author was edging the reader. At one point, I whisper-yelled at my iPad “put the dick in, bitch!” 

I won’t go into more of what I liked because that will spoil too much, but I definitely have some criticisms as well. It’s a dual first person POV, so we get to see The Faceless Man’s perspective. He’s very self-aware and it’s clear he’s been to therapy even before he says it, but he blames so much on his [traumatic childhood] that it stops being self-awareness and becomes a lack of accountability. I also felt very uncomfortable with what I took as “to stalk is to love” propaganda. It’s basically like…he has to stalk people to know if he can trust them. He has to know everything about you so he can feel safe with you. Stalking is a trauma response and don’t you feel bad for him? Bless his heart. He just wants to feel safe for once in his life so he has to hack into your job’s security cameras to watch you. 

Alright. 

No kink-shaming here. Just letting you know what didn’t work for me, even with the little percussionist inside me performing a homecoming drumline routine. But I can say I think I have a better understanding of mask kink, which is another reason I wanted to read this book. 

Along those lines… Last October, I listened to an erotic audio on the Quinn app called “Don’t Get Caught” by Naudio. The scenario is the two of you go to a cabin in the woods and do some adult, Halloween-scented hide and seek role play. There’s plenty of discussion about rules and check-ins. He’s going to wear a mask and hunt you down. When he finds you, better spread ‘em or he’ll make you. In boyfriend mode, he’s a little nerdy sweet, excited but nervous, down to please but anxious about your comfort. Then he gets into character. His voice drops even deeper than it already is, and he simply says, “run.” 

My little drummer:

The audio is binaural so sometimes you can hear him crashing through the woods on your right, no, now he’s on your left. 

It’s so good. 

I understand the appeal of primal play. We follow so many rules to be human, it can be hard to be our full, messy selves. You need a lot of trust to reveal your true self behind the mask of civility. During primal play, for a little while, you can be all touch and instinct. 

“You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.”