The time before cellphones

In January of 2007, I attended the Millbrae munch, where about a dozen BDSM’ers got together for an evening of talking about, what else, the BDSM lifestyle. That evening, it seems like we discussed almost every topic except BDSM, but I digress.

Several of us were standing around after the munch,. We were chatting when one of us received a call from someone on a cell phone who was having problems “finding us” and “getting to the munch”. Problem one: the munch was already over. Problem two: they were lost at the corner of “walk and don’t walk” and didn’t know where they were or how to find us. It was at this point, the rhetorical question “What did we do before cell phones?” was put forward.

My response was, “We made appointments, got to the right places on time, and people took responsibilities for their personal actions.”

My compatriots responded that “I was not being very Politically Correct”; “I was being just a little bit judgmental”; and “How can you say such a thing?”

It seems that with the advent of the cell phone, people have been given license to be late, because they can call and say they’re running late. Apologizing by phone is very impersonal, it also removes all guilt that a face to face conversation might impose.

We didn’t make a six o’clock appointment and then call at seven pm to say we were running just a little late. We didn’t ask if we could reschedule for eight pm, and then just not show up at all without a second call to apologize.

We don’t call day after tomorrow and make up some almost-believable story about how “my cell phone died – I accidentally put it in the microwave oven!”

We would get out a map and actually plan where we are going. We didn’t call up “MapQuest” on our personal digital assistant / web-enabled cellphone combination, only to discover that we had fifteen minutes to cover the sixty-three miles to get us to our destination on time.

We used to say, “Meet me at the train station, I’ll be wearing dark pants, white shirt with blue necktie. I’ll be carrying a copy of History of England in the Middle Ages opened to page 64”, and it always seemed to work.

I have actually seen people at the CalTrain station talking to each other on cell phones, trying to locate each other by using successive approximation. “Are you the one in the blue jacket? I don’t see anyone with a brown jacket. Which train station are you at, again?”

We didn’t spend time IM’ing and blogging someone, instead of talking to the person across the table from us. We would actually have interpersonal, meaningful communications with “he” and “she” instead of “hie” and “sie”. “BRB” and “CUL8R” were actually spoken as, “Pardon me for a moment, I’ll be back in just a minute” and “I’m sorry, but something has come up and I have to leave. Might I make an appointment to speak with you later?”

I, personally, have taken the time (and given enough thought) to write multiple Iambic pentameter sonnets to a lady because I wanted her to know how I felt about her. I didn’t send a postcard with, “FWIW, AFAIK, IMHO, ILVU”.

The word “Master” in front of your name had real meaning. It did not mean that you have had a relationship with an “online virtual-reality slave” for almost three months. We actually spent time mentoring each other; passing our arts and skills to the next generation.

We didn’t have “A Mommy Government” trying to protect us from ourselves. If we spilled hot coffee in our lap, we yelled (sometimes we used profanity), did a little dance, and started looking for a handful of napkins. We would blot our pants, smile apologetically at the people standing around watching us trying not to make a total fool of ourselves. Our audience would giggle at our discomfiture, and the thought that we would have to re-enter the line to get another cup of coffee.

We didn’t sue the store because the coffee was too hot; the cup manufacturer for product failure; the property management company for failing to provide the proper lighting and safety; and every member in the crowd for laughing at us and causing us to have a deflated male ego making it impossible to sire the next generation of coffee spillers.

If we wish to make decisions about our personal lives, and keep the government out of our bedrooms, I think it is time for the members of the BDSM community to stand up and make a personal commitment. If you make an appointment, keep it. Plan your trip so you can arrive on time, if not before.

Stand up for your mistakes and apologize for them in person, but remember that apologizing doesn’t mean that you can start over with a clean slate. People remember when you have short-changed them, and you will find it a lot more difficult to do it the second or third time.

According to the history books, the cellphone “tip point” occured in 1999: the year that cell phones took over the US. A quick calculation shows that I am an “oldtimer”. Apparently I was born in 58 BC — “Before Cellphones”!

Today’s quote is from Grissom on CSI –
A moral compass will always point the right direction, but it can’t make you go there.

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“What do you see in me?”

In an attempt to get this blog moving again, I thought I would like to post a short story.

Shortly after meeting aRRyana, she asked me the old, “What do you see in me” question. After quite a few minutes of thought, I replied:

“The best way I can put it is to put it into terms of my own life. I have been a pilot for many years, and I feel absolute joy when flying.  Until I met you, the ladies that I have dated have been like my first aircraft: a Cessna 172.  My 172 was one of the most exhilarating things in the world to me. I could travel almost anywhere within reason and do whatever I wanted to do in the air. The plane required a  minimum maintenance for the amount of joy that I receive.  And then I met you. Suddenly, I am flying a B2 bomber with stealth technology, able to fly further and higher than ever before, and fully loaded with a full array of avionics and weapons.”

After a few minutes of silence, she looked at me and said, “I think I was just handed a compliment, but I’m not absolutely sure.”

“Trust me, it was definitely a compliment,”  was my reply.

“And how do you see yourself?”

At that, we happened to be driving over the San Francisco Bay Bridge toward the city. Trying to come up with a good analogy, I suggested that she look to the right at the San Francisco wharf.

“If you look down there, you can see ships entering and leaving the Bay. There are freighters moving their goods all over the world.  The cruise ships allow passengers to party and travel to their hearts delight. Sailboats are sleek clean and beautiful and float on the wind while powerboats allow people to go fast and look cool.

“I on the other hand, am like that tugboat down there. I am not much to look at and I don’t go fast. My job is to help put the freighters and the cruise ships alongside the dock where they belong. I rescue the sailboats and powerboats when they get into trouble. My job is to help maintain order. Most people don’t notice me until they need me.”

We married shortly after that.


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When did it change?

I was on the Internet a few days ago and watching videos produced by one of the larger film producing companies.
It dawned on me that all of their videos depict submissive females telling their Masters what they want they done to them. The videos from the 1960s 70s 80s show a dominant male tying up a pretty lady and forcing her to do something that will create an orgasm for him. These days however it appears that most videos depict a “submissive female” telling her partner how she prefers to be tied, and what to do for her to have an orgasm. Now I’m not sure, but somehow the “topping from the bottom” concept has caused the pendulum to swing way off center into the realm of “politically correct”.

I definitely am not into doing sessions with someone against their will. After all, I truly believe that I am one of the people who helped create the “red, yellow, and green” concept of safe words. It is my job as a Master to know what I am doing. It is incumbent on me to know what is safe and what is not. I am also the person that created “prime directive” of:
“It is the duty of the slave to take care of the Master and take care of his property.”

If I give a command to one of my partners, I expect them to carry out the command immediately, correctly and with positive enthusiasm.

I do not expect to have to deal with a mediator, or a social worker, or their mother asking what are my intentions, my qualifications, or my credentials.

Now before you go off running in circles and asking for my head on a platter, I will say in a very clear and robust voice, that I think that dominant females should have the same rights and privileges as dominant males. I do not want to tell her how she should play with her submissive. If she wishes to stick needles in him, or set fire to his testicles, so be it it is between her and her submissive. At the same time, I don’t think that someone should be telling me how much hair pulling, sex and or tickling should be present in my sessions.

Recently, I was accosted by someone who felt that my Christmas card with Jessica bound and gagged in front of my fireplace was an affront to every American. I am sorry if that person feels offended but as I remember the Constitution, we all have the freedom of speech. Somehow, I do not remember freedom of speech equates to the freedom to listen to what you want. If you do not like what the television station is broadcasting, you have the right to change the channel but you do not have the right to blow up and/or destroy the television transmitting station.

I try very diligently to keep politics and religion out of my blogs, my writings, and my public speaking. I will not tell you who to vote for or what church to attend. I will say that we need a lot less government control in our lives. This country was built on personal and religious freedoms. Please vote accordingly.

A decade ago, I wrote the following article.

PC vs Mac by Robin Roberts
I haven’t seen any response to this question from any of the HetMaleDoms on this list yet, so here is my take on the question.
For the first two centuries of this country’s existence, almost all of the exploration (and exploitation) was done by Alpha Male heterosexuals. Most of what the United States is today is due to our “founding fathers” and their decisions, both good and bad.
During the past couple of decades, as I remember them, almost every minority group has come forward to decry the fact that they were persecuted under the tyranny of our “founding fathers.”
This is not in defense of, nor a glorification of, HetMaleDoms, just a singular observation. I am pushing sixty, and was here when the BDSM scene started in the Bay Area (which was before some of you were born) and I can report actual history (a word history which comes from the time before written accounts and means that is was “his story” of what happened.).
As I see it, it has become completely politically incorrect (a.k.a.: “Non-PC”) to be a Male, Anglo Saxon Chauvinist (a.k.a.: “MAC”) within the confines of the larger group of humanity (a.k.a.: “The Network”).
So, unless we can find a way for MACs and PCs to interface on the same Network, the whole system will crash, and the ISM (a.k.a.: “Infinite System Manager”) will have to come forward and re boot the entire system (And we all become foot fetishists and pony girls and pony boys???).
I think that we all need to start stripping ourselves of the over inflated egos and titles, quit the finger pointing, accept total responsibility for our own actions and get on with the enjoyment of life.
We need to stop the hyphenation (a.k.a.: *-American) of our country. One of the first lessons they teach in Political Science (an oxymoron, better known as a combination of scientists and morons) is: “If you wish to destroy a large political organization, first divide the members into “us and them” subgroups. Then get those subgroups to fight amongst themselves (a.k.a.: divide and conquer).
We need to coalesce into a cohesive, unified people and remember why we are here. (We now hear sounds of “Patriotic Music” swelling in the background). Every political party: the Republican Party, the Democratic Party, and the Independent party, no matter which party you belong to, all of the people throughout this great land of ours, this wonderful country in which we live.

Kwitchyerbellyakin (and we need to have more parties!!)

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For friends, family, and the fallen

This year saw the passing of many of my long-term, closest friends; Quentin, Al Weiss, Jim Johnson, Marcus and Barbara to name but a few. I will miss all of these people and many, many more as they have truly left holes in the fabric of my life. True, I will have a few less Christmas cards to address, phone calls to make and “home visits” on my agenda, but I think I would much rather have them back in my life.

I will miss every one of them.

Tomorrow, December 7, we celebrate Pearl Harbor Day. Most, if not all of my readers, will not be able to tell you where they were on this particular date in 1941. I don’t remember exactly where I was because I was only four months old at the time. According to my mother and father, I was in the bottom drawer of a dresser in some hotel in Boston Massachusetts. My father was in the Navy and his ship was performing escort and patrol duties off the East Coast of the United States. As his ship sailed from port to port along the East Coast my mom would take a train from city to city to meet him whenever she could, hence bottom dresser drawers in various hotels. As you can see, it was ingrained in me from very early age to be cognizant of people who give their lives and their all for this country.

As we approach the holiday season, I would hope that each and every one of us would go out of our way to call,write or visit everyone of our friends and family. I will ask every one of you to remember all of our friends and family for giving us the opportunity to know them, for being in our lives, and giving us the support that we need to make it through each and every day.

And finally, please find some way to thank the serviceman and their families for their help in defending our country and its leaders. (You may not like one or more of them, but remember your honoring the office and not the person.) Almost every city will be holding some sort of observance or parade tomorrow. Take some time from your very, very busy schedules and attend a parade. Applaud the service people who have served our country. Please remember that every fallen comrade in arms has left behind a family and an extended family of people who will miss them as well. If nothing else, find a way to donate a little time or money to ANY organization that helps someone in need.

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Happy Holidays !

As we approach the Holiday season, what else can / should be said?

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It was an exceptional evening until…

I had not seen her for several weeks. I picked her up at seven o’clock. Her makeup was well done. She was wearing a beautiful peach colored dress, thigh high stockings and high heels.

When we went to dinner at Benihana, the eyes of several males followed her as she walked through the room. The eyes of several females followed the eyes of the males and a few elbow jabs cause the male eyes to refocus. Dinner was wonderful. I convinced the owner of the restaurant to give me a few of the linen napkins. As we drove home, one was used as a blindfold and the other as a gag. A seatbelt was used to hold her in place with her hands behind her back.

When we arrived at my home she was released and instructed to set up massage table in the session room and remove all clothing except her panties. While she was doing that I went to my office and check for anything that needed my immediate attention. She entered my office and knelt beside my chair, awaiting further orders. She took my hand and led me to the session room. I sat in a chair as she helped me get undressed. An hour of massage removed the tension from my body and I was getting quite relaxed.

After the massage, she was instructed to put the session room back together. She approached me on her knees and we began to talk about the days events. The two of us began a period of “intimate touching”. From somewhere, a vibrator magically appeared. The music was quiet, the candles were providing a soft glow and things were progressing quite nicely.

She was quickly approaching that ultimate orgasm, uttering those beautiful sounds that ladies make when they are truly enjoying themselves. The music emanating from the radio was somehow feeding our passion. Suddenly, the music was interrupted by a shrill cacophony of sound that precedes an emergency broadcast system alert.

The moment was lost.

I have decided not to listen to that radio station again.

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RCR-70 and a BIG thank you to all

RCR-70 and a big thank you to all.

Many people ask me about my birthday. When asked which date, I generally respond “August”. Their retort is which day and August. I usually respond, “All of August”. With the myriad number of groups of people I am involved with, I try to hold special time for each group. This also allows me to reward people who are involved with multiple facets of my life. Besides, I don’t want there to be any cross-pollenization amongst the various groups.

On thirteenth August, a group of people that I’m involved with in my fetish and bondage photography business got together in Sunnyvale. One of the photos from that photo shoot has been jokingly titled “Cupcake” and can be seen at

Mari is lit by 70 candles. One of the people present joked that it was a good thing we had reserved the space for two hours to give us time to light all of the candles. In reality, I had bought two lighters. Another comment was will there be enough light? Response: “It is after all, 70 candlepower”. There were also a lot of jokes about fire permits, Smokey the bear, and do you have enough breath to blow out all of the candles. Friends. Sheesh.

My family and I had a “Birthday Dinner” on Wednesday so I could spend time with friends on Thursday.

I had originally planned on having a fairly large party for RCR 70 on Thursday. Unfortunately, at the last minute the venue that I had chosen was not available. So Plan B was to delay RCR 70 until September. A close circle of friends decided on their own however that we should still have something on August 18, so we all met at the Iron Gate in Belmont. I chose the filet topped with pate and covered with a Béarnaise sauce and a Grand Marnier soufflé for dessert.

Elegant dining, excellent service, and more importantly, a table filled with good friends.

Friday morning, I got a call from a lady who had been unable to attend dinner on Thursday. She said she would like to come by and serve dinner for me. I said that I was agreeable, would 8pm be acceptable. She said she had some things to arrange, and might be a few minutes late. She arrived, almost on time, wearing a sexy white dress and heels. She had stopped by the Fish Market and picked up cioppino, and shrimp with a lime and chili sauce.

I was busy working in my computer room while she was preparing everything. A few minutes later she knelt beside my desk wearing a collar, a smile, a sheer apron, panties and nothing else. She took my hand a led me to the table. Candles had been lit and a bottle of White Zinfandel wine had been opened and poured. Dinner was followed by a peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream (the only thing vanilla about the entire evening), a bondage session (I found another use for birthday cake candles!), a shave (straight razors are good for removing wax), massage and shower.

When I asked about her clothing, she replied she didn’t want to get cioppino on her dress. I really couldn’t argue with the logic of that!

I really do enjoy my Birthday parties, each and every one, but somehow this one, my 70th was REALLY good. And I still have the final party when Zahir gets his restaurant finished and opened this next week.

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Where shall I go from here??

When I first started this blog its intent was to provide a venue of personal feelings, explorations, and a place for stories that do not fit the SM 201 website format.

At first, I posted a couple of articles and for the longest time seemed that no one was even reading them. Over this weekend a friend of many years told me that she enjoyed reading what I had to say about my history (“His-story”) about events in my past.

So I shall continue my blog and try to relate some of the events about me, my family, my “family”, my friends and all things BackDrop.

If any of my readers have a specific question, please post your comments and I will answer as many questions as I can, truthfully, while protecting the identities of the (purported) “innocent”.
With that in mind I will begin posting to this blog on a regular basis.
You may contact me at: or 650-965-4499

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Dinner memory of the decade?

When it comes to history, the Hayward clubhouse probably produced more memories than any of our other venues. One that really comes to mind is evening of dinner and cocktails at Solomon Grundy’s in Berkeley California.
Mistress Robbie had been on staff with us a few years earlier. She was visiting town from Florida and I invited her to have dinner with me. Sarona and Gabriel had been working that day so I thought for some for dinner the extraordinary. For dinner, I had Sarona and Gabriel dress in short white dresses, collars and high heels. For jewelry, I adorned each of them with a two foot piece of chain locked around her left wrist. Both of them were instructed to allow the chain to hang pendant. Mrs. Robbie and I were both dressed in total black.
Since Mrs. Robbie would be returning to San Francisco that evening we decide to take two cars. Sarona would ride with Mistress Robbie and Gabriel would ride with me. When we arrived at Solomon Grundy’s, each of the girls got out of the car, went to the other side of the car and held the doors for Mistress Robbie and myself and we left our cars for the valet parker. As we entered the restaurant the girls held doors for us.
Mrs. Robbie and I were in conversation so the girls ordered dinner for us. They tasted the wine, they cut our meat, and did everything they could to make our evening enjoyable and without interruption. After dinner the girls held our chairs and escorted us outside. Mistress Robbie and I said our goodbyes. It was then that Sarona reminded us that she was still under service to Mistress Robbie.
She knelt before Mistress Robbie, who removed her collar and handed it to me. I stepped in front of Sarona and reinstalled her collar.
Under other circumstances (like being at the clubhouse) this would not have been anything out of the extraordinary. Unfortunately, the valet parker was watching this transaction and was totally distracted. Distracted to the point that the poor boy walked through a plate glass sliding door. The four of us insured that he was not hurt or cut. Mrs. Robbie headed for San Francisco, the rest of us headed for Hayward and home.
It was during this ride that Sarona, Gabriella and I discussed the events of the evening and began to laugh heartily. How did this poor valet parker describe how our “transfer of power ceremony” to his employer? Would he be able to keep his job? How much of an erection did he REALLY have?

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Conditional help requests (?)

Last week was a bad week for me. Three friends died and my Dad’s 90th birthday (my Dad died a few years back) all at once.

Two friends call me requesting my help. What I found most interesting was the fact they wanted that help on their terms. It would seem to me that if they really wanted help, they would accept whatever help I could offer under almost any circumstances and NOT the “I need help but only under my specific conditions”.

I guess I come from the old school where I very seldom request help. When I do request help, it is because I need it and I am willing to accept any help under almost any conditions I can get it.

“Robin, you have a truck. Can you help me move. But I have all these other commitments with other people that I need to complete first. My son has a baseball game on Thursday. And I need to turn my library book. Can you help me move please, pretty please?”

Well, I didn’t help her move. And she got very angry with me and told me where to go. I went there but she wasn’t there either. “There” was not a nice place and I shan’t go there again.

The other friend wanted a loan but wanted me to drive across town to deliver it. I did not deliver the money and she told me where to go as well.

I am tired of “going there” and I have decided that I’m not going to “go there”and if someone suggests that I should “go there”, I shall return the favor. In my library, I have an OAG (Official Airlines Guide) that lists every airline and every flight in America. I will tell them where to go, which airline to use, which hotel to check-in to, and what to do when they get there.

The point of this post is to ask people to think a little before asking for help. Sit down and ask your self what help do I need who is the best person to call and what am I willing to pay for their help. When I say pay for their help, I am not talking about money. I am talking about the “quid pro quo” of the help. Are you going to fix them dinner? How about a massage? Is there something you can do to make their life a little more enjoyable or stress-free.

If you were going to ask them to use their truck are you willing to pay for the gas. Or here is a unique thought-is there something you can do to help one of their friends as payment for the help you received.

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