Tag Archives: change

When 2 halves don’t make a whole

I am sure the few readers I have might have noticed that I haven’t been writing much lately. Partially it has been that I have not had much time alone. And it’s very hard to keep an anonymous blog when your loves are looking over your shoulder at what you are typing. Also, vanilla life has gotten busy. But in addition…

I have not been doing much in the way of kinky play or D/s. In fact, both of my relationships have been gearing down from those things and steering in a much more vanilla direction. I do still have some kinky play times and some D/s in my life. But it isn’t nearly what it was a few years ago. So I simply have less to write about.

I wish I could say that I’m happy with this situation. But it seems that I keep finding myself in this kind of situation. (This has not been my first foray into multiple partners.) One, two, three partners, and very little kink in my life. You would think that with more partners, you would of necessity be getting more play. More D/s. Apparently it doesn’t always follow. The only way that I have found more kinky play (though not more D/s) with multiple partners are the times I have done more casual play with friends.

Now I find myself feeling that I am approaching a crossroads. I find the older that I get, the harder it is for me to find chemistry with anyone. The less often I am attracted to anyone on even the most rudimentary level. The less I have in common with any one person. And yet the more I find that what I need in my life is one (or two) permanent and committed relationship(s) with plenty of authority transfer and kinky play times. And I find myself needing someone (or someones) who has plenty of time to spend on me.

What I currently have are two halves of that equation. I have two partners with whom I have things in common and they have been fairly committed and permanent. But the kink and D/s have been fading into dust. They have become… are becoming… half relationships. Half relationships with men that I still love. And that aren’t filling my needs.

The Husband accepted a job that has taken him to another state. Our relationship has become long-distance. It was supposed to be temporary, but after a few years, it becomes clear that it isn’t. He is happy and doing work that suits his talents. This is wonderful! For him. But it is slowly killing our relationship. And it has already killed our kinky play and D/s. He no longer feels like mine. He feels like a handsome stranger that I want to get to know but can’t. Not enough time.

The Wild Thing was never going to be a forever relationship. There are too many things that he wants from life that I can’t deliver. And as those things return to his consciousness after the NRE and rose-colored-glasses phase of our relationship fades (we have had quite a long time, over 2 years of NRE and rose-colored-glasses), he doesn’t feel like mine either. He feels like a horse comfortable in the yoke but ready to start running free. And I want him to be able to run free. I never want to hold anyone back from being who they are.

But that leaves me with two vanilla halves of a relationship that don’t… can’t add up to a whole for someone who NEEDS the passionate whippings. The willing servitude. The concession of will. The hours of time together. And the joy in all these things must be mutual. When the joy and the enthusiasm is one-sided, I lose my energy and will to sustain things on my own.

I need a partner in crime. Someone or someones who glory in bending to my will and being the canvas for my passion. They must be in it with me. I am sad that I don’t have these things.

But I am also hesitantly hopeful that those things are out there. And that I can and will find him. Or them. And hesitantly hopeful for the men I love to find whatever it is that they need as well. Because I don’t think it is me. And I am cowardly. Because I have no idea how to go about speaking about this with them. I do still love them. I don’t want to damage them. And I can’t tell if staying together will damage them more than parting our paths.

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This is my life: I am a slave and you will do Master things to me right now!

When I first entered the kink scene, I thought I was a slave. I really believed that was where I fit in. It wasn’t, of course. But I hadn’t done any soul searching on the subject since I was brand new. I had no natural instinct about it. Perhaps because it all happened very suddenly and there were so many things happening at once. Perhaps it was because all of the examples of kink that I had before me were M/f. In the end, it doesn’t matter why, it matters that I wasn’t a slave. I wasn’t even submissive. What matters is that I did think about it eventually, after I slowed down enough to quit doing and start thinking. What matters is that I did find that natural instinct after I was not simply overwhelmed with delight in finding something that actually stirred me sexually.

So when I say that sometimes people are a little confused about exactly where they fall on the kink spectrum, I know from personal experience that it happens! When I say that sometimes, someone needs to figure out what actually works for them… brings them joy or personal fulfillment… turns them on… I know what I’m talking about. I think it’s wonderful when people are basically born with a whip in their hand. Those people who have these feelings or desires very early on have it all figured out by the time I was just stumbling into kink. They’re lucky.

I was not lucky so much as I was confused. I didn’t mean to mislead anyone. I genuinely thought I was great slave material! I was convinced I would make some nice man a wonderful slave. I was dead wrong. I am only happy that I didn’t have many dominant partners before I figured out that I was a dominant myself. And I thank the people who helped my on my journey in figuring that out. I admire their patience. I admire their restraint as well. Nobody yelled at me or tried to force me to be something I’m not. I haven’t always been so kind to the confused people in my life. I’m certainly not perfect. My past partners were merely trying to get me to do the things I said I wanted to do. To be the way I said I wanted to be.

But, of course, I wasn’t. And I didn’t want to do those things. I thought I was those things. But there is a world of difference between bottoming and submitting. And while I could manage bottoming, I never managed submitting. It was easy enough to get me to do the things I brought up. But I wasn’t very good at doing the things they wanted me to do. Sure, I might try it once to see if I liked it. But the problem was getting me to do anything more than once. And that was just in the context of play. I can’t even imagine the colossal pain in the ass I would have been if anything had ever moved from play partners to anything more.

So, my “submission” looked something like this:

Me: Hey, I saw this guy tying up this girl and spanking her. I want to try that with you.

Them: Well I am good with rope. I can totally do that.

 

Them: I am very good with a flogger. Have you ever been flogged?

Me: No, but it looked really fun to me when X was being flogged. I do think I want to try that!

 

Do you see a pattern here? I was keen to try new things. I was keen to do the things I wanted to do. But nowhere in there did I indicate that I wanted to do things with a thought to what they actually wanted. Nor did I ever indicate that I wanted to give up any control to anyone. I wanted to try the things I wanted to try. I wanted someone to do those things to me. Sure, I expected that they would enjoy the things to. But that was certainly not my main motivation.

Yes. I was a do-me bottom. And a confused one at that!

Not that being a bottom is wrong or bad. It isn’t. Bottoms are wonderful to have! They are the perfect counterpoint to tops. And do-me bottoms aren’t even a bad thing. They are the perfect counterpoint to service tops. But bottoming is not the same thing as submitting. And if you don’t have a conversation with your partner, it can lead to frustration and confusion. For both/all of you.

So listen up all you submissive people! Ask yourself if you want to do the things you want to do. Do you want to do the things that your partner wants to do? Maybe you want to do things that are mutually agreeable to all parties. Ask yourself if your main priority (not your only one, perhaps, but your main one) is you or your partner(s). Ask yourself if you want someone else making decisions about your scene. Or your life. Or maybe you want to be the one making those decisions. If your answers are anything like the examples above? Perhaps you are not submissive. Perhaps you are a bottom. Perhaps you are a do-me bottom. Perhaps you are actually… a dominant.

It happens sometimes that we are all a bit confused. And the best thing we can do for our own peace of mind and happiness is to give it some thought so that we can figure out what actually works for us. How can we find our happiness if we don’t even have a clue what it looks like?

When the political becomes personal

There is a theme on my Fetlife friends list today. It seems to be “let’s discuss our physical appearance” day. Nobody told me. But now that I know, I am going to participate. I am, after all, an advocate of bodily autonomy and a part of the size acceptance movement.

I read a lovely rant by a woman who self-identifies as a bbw. She is happy in her large and lovely body and is unafraid to eat things in public. Even cake. Even a second slice of cake. She is also unafraid to get naked in the dungeon. Because naked kinky times are fun and awesome and she can’t well have them without the “naked” part. To which I say, “Hell Yes!”

Obviously, I agree with being at home in your own skin. No matter what that skin looks like or how much skin there is. Despite what the modern media would have us believe, it’s really great to actually love yourself. As you are. Right now. You don’t need a diet, a self help guru, steroids, or a certain brand of shoes in order to love yourself. If you want those things, great! But they are not prerequisites for self-love. It’s hard in this modern world to just love ourselves. But it’s a really fantastic goal.

I read another rant by a guy whose date was complaining that his date wasn’t confident enough in her appearance. He felt she was fishing for compliments in order to bolster her flagging self-esteem. And he was having no part of that. He didn’t want to date someone who was relying on him for self-esteem. I also agree with that! Self-esteem is, by definition, derived from within. No matter how many people tell you “x”, you may or may not ever believe in “x.” It’s hard, but it’s all up to each of us to decide if we believe “x” about ourselves.

In related news, I started back on hormonal birth control. It’s been years since I have been on any. And one of the likely side effects is weight gain. I was unconcerned. I was much more interested in whether or not I am going to end up with mood swings or spotting. Both of which would be annoying to have to deal with. It’s still worth it not to have to worry about an unintended pregnancy, but it would be annoying. And there is a very very small risk for blood clots. I’m not at much of a risk, but the risk isn’t zero.

I was relating the various things that I was expecting to go through in conjunction with my new anti-pregnancy regime to the men in my life. The Wild Thing listened carefully. He expressed excitement that I would be able to better enjoy my sex life without worrying. He was also confident that I would be able to deal with the things that were potential worries for me. And wanted to know if there was anything he could do in the event I needed support.

The Husband, on the other hand, though he has spent the last year attempting to convince me that he loves my body… well, the only words that came out of his mouth were, “Do you think you will gain any weight?” Color me unconvinced.

I could turn into a weeping mess. A rampaging bitch. And not in the fun way. I could have a stroke. And his first thought was that I might get fatter. I know he loves me, but I don’t think my body is much to his liking any more. Unfortunately for him, I am one of those confident people who is at home in her own skin. No matter how much skin there is.

Musings from a very odd week

I think I’ve been doing a little bit too much experiencing and not enough actual doing. It is a large part of my nature to experience. But experiencing isn’t the same as doing things. It’s been a strange week. Not at all a bad week. But a strange one. So many random things have come out of this week.

I am much more emotional than I’d like to be. By that, what I mean is not that I wish to be a robotic person who doesn’t experience emotions. Emotions are a part of the human experience unless one is sociopathic. But my emotions lately are overwhelming and close to the surface. So calm is a thing of my past. My current reality is that I am in a continuous emotional storm that I’m having trouble adjusting to. To continue my sailing analogy, I’m in the middle of a gale almost continually so I spend all my time running madly around the ship trying to adjust the sails so the boat doesn’t sink. It isn’t a comfortable place to be. It isn’t a place I’d like to stay. My emotions are running the show most of the time. I don’t like it.

I am also extremely frustrated by getting older. One of the things about having younger partners is that I am often reminded that I’m no longer a twentysomething. Or a thirtysomething. And we’ll just stop there. But this last year has been the first year where my physical body has undergone the kind of changes that seem to come with the aging process. As a result, I am now feeling betrayed by my own body. Where once we were a team, working together to get the things done that I either wanted or needed to do… now we feel like enemies. I want or need to do a thing, and my body won’t let me. It’s incredibly disheartening. Logically, I knew the day would come when I would be “old,” I just didn’t expect it to be quite this soon. And I find myself resentful. I still have the desire to do all the things. I just can’t do a lot of them any more. Wasn’t I supposed to lose my sex drive and my desire to do all the “wild youth” things by now?

I am also coming to a changing point yet again in looking at what I can and can’t do … what I do and don’t need from a D/s and kink perspective. I think that 24/7 is no longer an option, now it is a need. And I also think that I need more life skills. If I’m going to be responsible for one or more people (and I am coming to believe that is what it’s going to come to) on a more or less daily basis, then I need to be much more certain that I have the skills to back it up. Time to get off the proverbial sofa and beef up my economic house. Being debt free & having a small savings isn’t enough any more. I need to get some knowledge about things like investing and retirement planning. One medical emergency or home issue could easily eat up my entire savings and leave me unable to provide for loved ones. Reality check. Adulthood sometimes sucks.

This is my life: Surprise!

Dear Husband,

What the actual fuck? Why do I find out by logging on to Fetlife that you have changed your role from submissive to unsure & are possibly going to a party in another state… when you are not allowed to go to parties without me? This is why we can’t have nice things.* Please stop your passive aggressive bullshit forthwith.

Sincerely,

Your rather pissed off and confused wife/Dominant

*You wonder why I feel more easy in my D/s relationship with the Wild Thing? Why I have him doing things you want to do with me? Because of things like this. First A, then B, then C, and on and on. If I can’t get B then I can’t ask for C. You know this about me. I don’t know why you are so shocked that my D/s relationship with the Wild Thing is progressing more quickly than ours has in over a decade.

Musings on body image from a very personal perspective

One of my Fetlife friends had a child and got a whole new (larger) body as a result. This isn’t uncommon. I think most women expect that after pregnancy, their body will never be the same. But living it can be a whole different story. Her husband spends almost all his (visible) time on Fetlife loving pictures of very thin young women. His wife is suffering from some terrible self esteem issues right now. I can see it in her posts and their increasingly depressed tone. I can understand where she’s coming from.

They are participating in a fairly public site (in the sense that a large portion of what we do with our Fetlife profiles is visible to friends via our friends feed) that is full of all kinds of naked bodies. And I think that is part of what is bothering her. All kinds. Of all the naked bodies on the site, her husband spends his time loving pictures of naked women… who look nothing like her new, larger body. They don’t play together. And when I see them at the same event, it’s rarely together. They are socializing separately.

I feel her pain. Though I don’t feel at odds with my body now, I have in the past. And we all still have our good days and our bad when it comes to self esteem in relation to our appearance. I have also undergone a relatively sudden body change that caused me to gain a lot of weight rather suddenly then not be able to lose it. And I didn’t even get a kid out of it! It can throw your self-perception for a loop when the person looking back at you from the mirror is not someone you recognize.

I’m all for gaining self esteem from the self. But sometimes we can use a bit of help. Society is hard on almost everyone. When our lovers don’t seem to find us attractive any more, it hurts. And it certainly doesn’t help to boost flagging self esteem.

There was that point several years ago when my body suddenly changed. I happened to find The Husband’s porn stash. (Largely because he left it running on his computer when he left for work and it was somewhat… loud!) I have never been a consumer of porn, so I decided it might be interesting to see what he was into and if it was something we could do together. It was interesting. (In that some of the things therein were things I could see myself adapting to be more realistically doable, but don’t get me started on how horrid most femdom porn is) But it also became increasingly distressing. Even the still pictures were all of these slender women with large implants who looked nothing like me.

Much like the sheer variety on Fetlife, porn offers something for everyone. If one wants to find BBW porn, it’s out there. The Husband didn’t have any. I questioned if he actually found my body attractive. This was exacerbated by the fact that I have a very specific “type” that I find attractive. And I have almost never deviated from that type since I first considered boys as more than friends. So it is hard for me to contemplate people being attracted to all physical appearances equally. I have now spoken about it to enough people to think that I’m probably actually the minority. But still…

When I talked to The Husband about it, he said he simply clicked on things he thought were sexy and never thought much about it. (This didn’t help at all, by the way. Did I mention that BBW porn is fairly easy to find on almost any porn site?) We went round and round about it. He didn’t get why I was bothered by this. I tried to explain my feelings and my reasons for thinking he didn’t find me attractive any more. He still didn’t get it. He kept reassuring me that he just went with what he saw and he wasn’t intentionally trying to hurt me.

Well I should hope he wasn’t!

Finally, I asked him what he thought about all the hunky action movie stars. Arnold Schwarzenegger types with a 6 pack and legs the size of a small tree. I did it in the bathroom intentionally. I brought up several more popular actors. I noticed him starting to look at his own body and realize that he was fairly far from that “ideal.” I did this to approximate the message that women are constantly barraged with every moment of every day that if you aren’t young, thin, tan, and enhanced… you are not attractive. I spoke at great length about how my girlfriends were always going on and on about this gorgeous Hollywood actor or another. How the bubblebutt of one actor was stacked up against the bulging biceps of another. I could see him getting a bit more uncomfortable.

I asked him how he would feel if he found a large stash of pictures or pornos featuring exclusively men who looked like that on my computer.

He immediately reminded me that I have always maintained I don’t find that attractive at all. (He’s right, I don’t. And I’m pretty honest about that.)

I said yes. I am always telling you that I think you are handsome. That I think your body is attractive. Now how would you feel finding that porn stash on my computer?

He finally got it.

It was such a departure from what he had always told me he liked. It raised a flood of doubt at a time when I was learning to love a new body.

I hope my Fetlife friend finds the love of her body that I did. I also hope she can find a way to discuss her body issues with her husband. And I hope she can do it in a way that he eventually gets it. And that he can help her love her new body.

And if he doesn’t get it or doesn’t love her new body, that they can let each other go. Because there are tons of men who do find her body beautiful. And she deserves to be with someone who thinks she’s gorgeous.

This is my life: miracle weekend

It’s late in my part of the world. The night is dark and cool. Nobody here but me. It was an intense weekend, and I’m both elated and a bit exhausted. I have missed 3 days of work, played, argued, made up, fucked, and cried. Not necessarily in that order. I feel I’ve been living in a different land for the past 5 days. Tomorrow I go back to the real world. There may be repercussions for missing work. I believe it was worth it. Even if I end up being fired, it will have been worth it. The Husband and I have reconnected. I feel wonderful!

Now I am looking forward to the future. I feel that things can work. For all of us. Times are changing. I am changing. Again. More hope for more kink and more love and more togetherness. It may not be perfect, but what is? Nothing. And this is good. This weekend has been a much needed catharsis. And now for some sleep!