Musings on markings

From a writing on Fetlife by Girl_Named_Bill:

We didn’t know what we were doing (or what we were trying to do) had a name. And we didn’t know we were allowed to like it. We thought we were supposed to be ashamed. We just knew that there was this intense need to spend as much time as possible alone together in a place where we could safely and privately smash into each other.

I read this and was so sad that it took me half a lifetime to find someone that I want to smash into. The post also speaks of his desire to mark her. I have that. I want the entire world to know he’s MINE. I wish I could scream it from the rooftops. I wish I could tell the whole world: this one, you cannot have because he is MINE. I want to mark his flesh and I want to mark his soul. I want to smash into him. Overpower him. Take him down and claim a part of him that rests so deep inside that he didn’t even know it was there.

It’s terrible. I shouldn’t want this. Not because it’s inherently wrong, but because I know he won’t me mine forever. The intensity and passion and ownership will all be gone some day. And even knowing that, I still want to own a part of his soul. It’s irresponsible. It’s selfish. I still want it. I can’t help but want it. He said to me that his greatest fear is that this will be the best relationship of his life. I don’t think it will be. He’ll find someone that is and even better fit for him. Someone who can give him all of the things he needs that I can’t give him. I told him it won’t be. What I didn’t tell him is that I’m fairly certain that at this point in my life, I won’t have that same luxury.


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