Problems Vampires Have, Page 2

This section has problems pertaining to dealing with “everyday” (everynight?) things for vampires. It can get in a light vein, but I would prefer it to be mainly enlightening (jeez, can I quit with these day puns, already???) as to actual problems that vampires have to deal with on a day-to-day (aaarrrggghhh!!!) basis.  If you have a unique or unusual vampire-related problem or situation you’d like me to consider adding to the Problems Vampires Have section, send it in here.

–Sanguinarius

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People romanticizing vampires and vampirism…it ain’t all that romantic.

It’s really not romantic when you can’t sleep because you are feeling the need and you toss and turn and have bloody, vampirically oriented dreams that only serve to intensify what brought them on in the first place. And then when you do get up finally, you are tired and haggard and drained and feeling the thirst still, and you sign on to check your email and see all these peeps writing you to say “Oh, it’s so romantic.”

Okay, then, come on over, let me feed from you, if it’s so romantic. I’m always on the lookout for fresh blood… Sanguinarius grins a little too sweetly

–Sanguinarius


And OakSpirit adds: Just my two cents here..but actually Sanguinarius is just putting it mildly what some vampyres experience. There is nothing romantic about the blood lust that haunts “Some” vampyres. The way the lust fills you and pulls at your total being, to the point you want to jump out of your skin; when all you can see is the energy flowing within the blood of everybody around you; when you begin to smell it everywhere and in some cases the smell is so strong you can almost taste its essence; but in reality NOT having a damn person you know who you can feed from. That is why I believe there are so many psychic vampyres because at least the lust can be filled with sexual energy or whichever kind you choose to feed from. It’s either that or drawing from yourself, in which many cases needs to be done again for Some vampyres.


This happened to me in high school. My theater class had a “study hall” instead of class one day. I laid down on the floor and dozed off. I woke up to the sound of people standing around me asking if they should try CPR or something, since they thought I wasn’t breathing. When I sat up and asked what the HELL they were doing, several people literally screamed and wouldn’t have anything to do with me for the rest of the year.

Contributed by Skadi


I need to bitch…hope you don’t mind.

OHHHH GOOODD WHYYYY!!! Why do I have to be so stupid when I know myself better than that? What, did I forget?! For one thing I’ve been Bloodlusting all day, don’t know why. — I just fed a few days ago; I should be fine! BBBUUUUTTTT NOOOO…. Intoxicating, as I stand there suddenly getting to close to the person standing in front of me until I nearly touch this person I don’t know other than the fact he got in the line a second before I did. Then the pissiness, where I stand and curse everyone who walks past as I suddenly wish to scream at nothing and throw a huge tantrum. Then it passes like nothing happened and all I want to do is go to sleep, but I can’t because I have a life! Then as I say to myself all day, “There is no way I can stay up tonight, I’m much too tired.” Then as I’m sitting going, “Gee, what can I do now? I want to do something.” Then I happen to look at the clock as I mutter, “Oh fuck, it’s twelve o’ clock in the morning, dammit!” (Or later, depending.)

Then I get sick of people going, “Why are you wearing sunglasses now? We’re inside,” So of course I felt the need to overcome this as I wander around inside a store or something I won’t wear them as I squint and go, “Fuck I can’t see shit!” I thought I was fooling everyone into thinking I actually could see until someone came up to me and went, “Are you okay? You look like you’re going to cry? What’s wrong with your eyes, do you have something in them?” Just burst my bubble why don’t you!

Then of course you get the people who don’t want to do things when you do because they’re tired, and you’re not. They tell you to wake up in the morning to do things when they want to do them, and then they ask what wrong with you, or “You were just fine last night, what’s wrong now?”

Then you start to forget that the sun hurts dammit! So of course I feel invincible once more and walk around all day (Actually not all day, no more than an hour before I start to feel light-headed and have to go inside) and think, “I’ll be fine I’m in the shade. I don’t want to wear long sleeves. It’s too hot and all the other people are in shorts so I’ll be fine.” Not now you stupid bastard, it hurts doesn’t it?! Yes of course it hurts! My skin’s trying to fall off and I wasn’t even outside that long!!!

That’s almost as bad as the time I decided to go to the beach. I wasn’t stupid enough then to wear short sleeve or even — God forbid — a bathing suit, but nonetheless I sat on the shore watching people enjoy themselves and talk about me. “See that weird person sitting there in long sleeves and pants?” I can’t get sunscreen to work! Why can’t I get sunscreen to work! Does it go any higher?!

I don’t eat much, and I hate it because it makes me feel bad when people want to eat when I eat. I told him there wasn’t much chance of that happening soon so if he was hungry he better eat now not when I did. Stupid prick! But still he did quite well in keeping up though I could hear his stomach growling. He went from noon to seven without eating just because he didn’t want to eat until I was ready. What can you say? Is that normal?

I’m in pain, whimper I hurt, I want blood, and my eyes feel like they got something in them, but there’s nothing there.

It’s one thirty and I have to wake up in the morning, not too early, but early enough. People don’t understand me, and I feel miserable. I devoured a whole head of lettuce, and still want blood. It took the edge off but not the whole craving…That came back. I hate these moments, I pet my very frisky cat and when he halfway-nibbles my hand he suddenly goes limp and starts to go to sleep. I’m talking hyperactive pussy goes limp while cocking his ears this way and that then walks away a little wobbly. What’s that?!

Welcome to my world! These are the times I want to run out to any wannabe and go, “Here! It’s yours I don’t want it.” I want to stand outside and not worry that I’m going to feel it in a few moments. I want to walk around a store and not worry that the people thinks something’s wrong with me because I’m trying to see without sunglasses, let alone outside! I want to tan!! I don’t want to see what I see! The dreams I get and the blood is the only thing I’m enjoying right now! And I could get that without burning and being blind, and all the other things I’m not going to mention!

Life sucks right now. (and not in the right way) SHOOT ME SHOOT ME NOW!!!

Then I think “It’s not so bad…Just one of those days.”

By WispRed


For those of us vampires unlucky enough to be in the military, how the hell can one do their job, when all I can think about is tearing out my c.o.’s jugular? And, when in combat, is it wrong to feed off enemy troops, if that chance came to be? The rules of the army make my way of living so hard… Short of getting out, how can I be what I am and stay in the army?

Contributed by PLLWREN@aol.com


When it gets cold, and I have been outside in the cold, and I come inside to where it’s warm, my sunglasses will fog up and stay that way until they have warmed up. In the meantime, it doesn’t do any good to wipe the fog off, because they will re-fog. I know it’s not a vampire-specific problem, but we do have to deal with this from time to time.

Contributed by Sanguinarius


Sarah Dorrance relates the following experiences from Bloodstock ’98:–

Whoa. What a weekend.

Well, at least I did manage (however involuntarily) to conduct one of my proposed experiments on myself: What are the effects of starvation, if my psyche and body do not go into “shut-down” mode after grokking that my needs will not be met anytime soon? (Last time I went without feeding for years, I was in a state of numbness, exhaustion, and depression, and I suspect that I still fed at a very low level from Scott and from those around me, just not on blood or on massive amounts of life force — picking fights with people is, after all, an easy way to get them riled up enough to soak some energy out of them. Obviously not enough to really do much good.)

The last day I fed, until this weekend, was 13 July (possibly 12 July – I’m a bit foggy about this).

I lost most of my stored-up, borrowed pranic energy on the flight to America, because I do not travel well and long-distance flights take a nasty toll on me. I was further weakened by sulfa drugs, which were being used to treat a case of cystitis; the sulfa drugs were taken for seven days, and the mundane effects (on normal people) include severe dehydration, dizziness, and photosensitivity (you can imagine how this would affect me. Yes, folks, the cure was much worse than the ailment). Finally, I did not feed from Scott. Today’s date is — um — 27 July. I fed on Saturday night/Sunday morning (depending on your perspective) so that makes for about two weeks of prolonged starvation while in a weakened condition.

The first week was not so bad; fatigue, headaches, urinary discomfort due to the cystitis (sorry if that was too personal, I’m trying to be as clinical as possible), thirst due to the drugs, low sex drive, mild depression.

The second week was when the reality of my situation really hit home. My appetite for food completely diminished, aside from my usual milk cravings, which intensified (the only explanation I can come up with is that milk is liquid protein, and easily digestible). I started getting severe PMS (Murphy’s law, here — I did not time my starvation to coincide with my menstrual cycle). The headaches worsened, as did the fatigue. I developed dizzy spells — by Wednesday of the second week, I was blacking out and swooning nearly every time I stood up from a sitting or reclining position. My arthritis had become a constant nuisance. I had a couple of asthma attacks. My mental state was not wonderful either — I had begun to obsess about blood. Failing that, any substitute. Fellatio seemed to keep the worst of it at bay, but while sperm is rich in energy of both a physical and psychic sort, and has roughly the same chemical composition as blood, it wasn’t quite the same.

When I arrived at the Bloodstock convention, I was faint, dizzy, shaky, thirsty, not at all hungry for solid food, achy in the joints, and very obsessive. I found the latter state particularly disturbing. One person had a neat trick of flexing his hand in such a way that he could actually move his veins from side to side; I shuddered and looked away because I had started to get stomach pains and my mouth was watering. The same sort of reaction happened when people would play with knives, which happened on three occasions. It took actual effort not to do something embarrassing. I don’t think I would have lunged at anyone unless that person actually cut him/herself, but the salivation and tendency to stare and heavy breathing and so on disturbed me enough that I didn’t want to expose myself to temptation. It is enough to say that I actually looked away violently in each case of exposure to a potential source of blood, rather than facing such temptations with my usual blandness (I am good at being phlegmatic when the situation calls for it, as a general rule — such as the time a former lover walked into my room with a gashed-open, dripping arm and asked for first aid).

Eventually one of the attendees of the convention was “given” to me as a playtoy (by someone who probably intended on handing me this collared, manacled “slave” as a joke) and we went upstairs to converse (because I took the “joke” seriously and wanted to find out my slave’s limits and needs. I never have been good at picking up on jokes; I’m very literal-minded). He offered himself as a food source, I held out courageously for all of maybe ten minutes (I barely knew him, but damn, I was hungry; oh well) and we necked for a little while (ahem) until he pulled out his knife, which he said was sharp but was mostly good for cutting butter. I had left my razor blades in my hotel room, far away from the house where the convention was being held. So I got no more than a tiny taste of blood for all that. Still, I did manage to get something while playing with him — he experienced a drain, and I in turn experienced…something hard to put into words. So did he. There was a connection made. He was a bit of a skeptic before the experience (one reason he offered himself was because he wanted to see what would happen) and I’m afraid he now believes in the vampiric experience, which is currently boggling his mind. I got no sleep that night — I was too keyed up — and made up for it by sleeping in the car on the way home, taking a nap upon arrival, and getting twelve more hours of sleep last night. I am still hungry, but not nearly as weakened and obsessive.

I don’t want to repeat this experience again if I can help it. The intensity of my hunger was terrifying and humiliating.


Here are some things that REALLY bug me…

  • When you have to make an appointment for the doctor or the dentist and the receptionist says to you “How about 9:20am”!!! Yeah right!!
  • When you have to tell friends and family that you visit to turn the lighting and brightness on the TV down or you’ll have to sit there with your dark glasses on!
  • When you get accused of being a junkie when a ‘normal’ person sees you licking the blood off a friend’s arm who’s cut themselves by accident whilst you’re in a cafe!
  • When so-called friends think that you’re just being difficult when you tell them you can’t meet them until after dark (that can be 10pm here)!
  • When any males that find out you’re a vampyre think that you’ll want their blood, even though you have a steady partner!
  • When people think you can do an exchange of sex for blood!
  • When your parents think you’re mental!
  • When people look at you strangely because you have to wear dark glasses in the cinema!
  • When people who hear you’re a vampyre but have never seen you expect you to dress/look like Elvira or Lily Munster.
  • When they think you’re immortal!
  • When they think you can turn them into a vampyre!

That’s all I can think of for now.

Contributed by Cynarra


I love Volleyball. For some odd reason, I just can’t find many people who will play a four-hour game at night! It’s the company picnic, middle of summer, totally cloudless day, right? Seemed like hell to me as I could feel my flesh singeing already and I had just arrived. Someone breaks out the volleyball, and I decide, “It’s been so long, I want to play. I will NOT be a prisoner to the sun! I won’t, I won’t, I won’t!” So I lather on the sunblock and go out there and play; and it was a breakneck series of games. Nobody I worked with could match my stamina, and they were looking at me funny in the fourth hour. By then I was numb to the pain with all the excitement, and it wasn’t until I got in my car that I realized that I could possibly pass out on the drive home. I made it home, but all the endorphins had worn off and I was in mighty sorry shape. I was praying that nobody would get in my way, when this dog came screaming out of somebody’s nudged-open door and started yapping at my heels, and I grabbed it and damn dear ripped it’s throat open before I chose not to, throwing it back to the door. To be perfectly honest, I don’t remember if it made it to its feet or not. Made it to my apartment, got my clothes off, turned on the shower with cool water and proceeded to pass out in the tub. It was about three hours to sunset, and I spent two of them unconscious. It felt like nightfall would take forever to get there, but it finally did.

My burn was gone when I woke up the next night, but it was it was two nights (sleeping all day) and two willing donor-friends before I was back in sensible shape.

Contributed by Raston Warrior


I miss being able to go to the pool and swim. Provided that I can stand to be outside in the middle of the day, oh-so-bright and sunny, I can’t swim around in the pool with my sunglasses on. Oh, sure, I could wade around like an old fart, but no real swimming: no laps, no cavorting about under the water, no diving / cannonballs. The water from those who are cavorting about would splash up onto the lenses of the shades and get in the way of viewing things… No laying out and relaxing, dozing off to the sounds of the pool-goers. I tried laying out a time or two. It was nasty. First, I wasn’t comfortable in my bathing suit, so I dressed and tried it. Too bright, looking directly upwards. I put a towel over my face, and the twit I was with had a spaz about that — like I’d stripped nude or something! — and kept bitching and trying to remove it, saying if I didn’t take it off my face, then he was going to leave. Like I was acting ridiculous or something??? “Normal” people can and do get away with doing that sort of thing… But no-o-o, he wouldn’t listen to me. Oh, well, big loss…I didn’t want to feel the stupid sun on my skin, anyhow. 🙁

There’s this place where I used to live that has a bunch of water-oriented fun stuff. I miss spending the afternoon at the big wave pool there. Oh, well…it was always too crowded, anyhow, and too many ugly people in bikinis (not me, though)…sigh…But they had these neat rafts that you could rent, and then, if it wasn’t too crowded, you could paddle around and get up some speed and go riding it (raft-surfing) in towards “shore” — pretty damned awesome! I will become a bitter, sour, old fart before I’m 30.

[Update: I’ve since passed 30, and it’s quite true. — I am a bitter, sour, old fart now! grin] [Another update: I’ve since passed 40, and I’m a bitterer, sourer, older fart but now also cynical. grin]

–Sanguinarius

[On to Page 3]

I’m the founder/creator/page slave of Sanguinarius.org. I’m in my early-to-mid 40s. I have 2 special kitties and a good man.

More info later.

See my website, Sangi’s Corner, for more about me.

Sanguinarius E. Sanguinarius – who has written posts on Sanguinarius.org for Real Vampires.


About Sanguinarius E. Sanguinarius

I’m the founder/creator/page slave of Sanguinarius.org. I’m in my early-to-mid 40s. I have 2 special kitties and a good man. More info later. See my website, Sangi’s Corner, for more about me.
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