I went to Arizona to break up with my girlfriend. I mean, I told myself that I was open to reconciliation but the reality is that it was a very small possibility in my mind.
We talked. There was hope, if not for continuation at least for a good ending. Laughter. Tears. I abandoned my plan to just state facts and stay strong and consistent. I admitted fear, confusion, uncertainty in this decision. She seemed to understand, spoke truths but relatively kindly.
We talked some more. Cuddled. Cried. Accusations. Hurt, so much hurt. Anger. Anger? Self-valuation and worth is one thing, but does it have to come with feeling victimized? Perhaps. Carelessness, on my part, unwillingness to do things I could have. "You always have people who want to bring you things, it's true." Leaving with hurt, tears, so much pain.
An unexpected invitation to talk again the next night. Hesitation - seems like a poor choice after the night before? Hope still springing eternal - maybe we can make it different, have that good ending, as amiable as possible, like adults. But quickly it repeats, accusations, hurt. Accepting blame, accepting anger, trying to show the pain so that she believes me when I say that this is genuinely hard for me too. Why do I not love her as much as she loves me? Not love her in the same way, show it in the ways she needs me to show it to feel secure?
Silence. Haphazardly wrapping pain in a thick blanket, in plastic and duct tape. A bubble, sitting on it in denial, floating. Distraction techniques perfected when dealing with depression - focus on the positive in the moment to deflect the negative. Denial was blanketing the bubble so thickly that even when asked directly by friends and family I was intellectual, logical, unhurt. Able to be happy with loved ones, mostly even able to feel their love, their compassion. A good ending to a disastrous week, the loss of love, clinging to the shreds of silver linings wherever I could find them.
I went on a date, my last night in town. Kind of on two, really. A sweet conversation and goodbye kiss with a friend who has been a flirtation and make-out partner on and off for a year. Then an evening adventure with an acquaintance/flirtation, wine on a mountain side overlooking the city while the moon rises and the wind encourages cuddling close together. She used to intimidate me with her queer coolness to the point that I could hardly talk to her, now I know she's even more self-conscious than I am and had been too nervous to ask me to play at the last party we both attended. We chased ducks in a park, and I listened to her sing in the car and sitting under a canopy of little christmas lights in her back yard. We danced around it for a long time, but she pulled me in for a kiss goodnight and I actually felt a tingle of lust dancing in my body as I deepened the kiss and we both kept coming back for more, welcoming me back to my sexuality that had been so shut off by being shot down over and over in times of relationship strife. She said goodnight and I left with a grin. I've had her songs stuck in my head ever since.
I feel weird going from ending a 2 year relationship that has changed my life, to kissing a woman who wants things I know to be incompatible with being in a partnership or any kind of relationship. A guilt of betrayal, and a guilt of not stopping things from escalating with someone who thinks kissing is a fairly intimate activity not to be done with just anyone. Safety in knowing we will likely never live in the same place, but awkwardness in avoiding what could be plainly spoken and cause a proportionate amount of hurt rather than waiting for it to cause more. Clearly this is a personality trait I need to iron out.
Monday, March 9, 2015
Sunday, March 8, 2015
loss of potential
*trigger warning for discussion of consent violation, sexual assault, and rape*
Musings.
When I was in a particular metro city18 months ago, I saw a woman doing a demo at a fetish ball. I was entranced by what she was doing, and also a little too intimidated by my newness and her obvious experience to interact much with her.
About a year later when I visited that city again and attended a play party with a friend, I met her again. I was still new but much more confident in my desires, and I think I gave off much more of an air of active exploration instead of tentative curiosity. While I didn't play with this particular woman, it didn't upset me in the least when my friend later reported that this woman seemed to be interested in talking about playing the next time I was in town. Ego boost - this leader of the queer kink scene was interested in playing with me?! Excuse me while I preen a little and let my mind gently wander over some things I would be interested in doing with her....
I've been hearing some rumblings about this person through the friends I have in the scene in her town. Comments that maybe it's for the best that we didn't play the last time I was in town, that rumors are circulating about consent violations? As a leader in the community, someone who runs a play space, a person is both a particular target for rumors (someone is always pissed at leadership) and particularly untouchable (the reaction of most people to blame the victim for coming forward and 'rocking the boat'). Since I'm not intimately in the scene I kind of ignored things. It's true that some people are quite vigilent with their boundaries - while it's still violating consent if someone oversteps those, some can be easy to overstep even when making efforts to avoid doing so. I put it down to a case like my first potential play partner in Nashville - a bit of a missing stair at worst, someone who would be safe to play with in public if I went in knowing what I was walking into. Any consent violation would either be egregious or unlikely on the first play date during that "getting to know you" time, right?
I'm a little ashamed that I brushed things off so casually, particularly after my friend brought some writings to my attention by someone who had her consent and bodily integrity so egregiously violated that it actually made me a little nauseated to read. It wasn't a gentle pushing of boundaries over time that edged into "well, that's really more than I intended" territory. This was someone saying that sex was not something she wanted with this particular romantic and play partner. She was constantly pressured as their relationship went on to have sex, and finally a consensual make out and play session turned into involuntary removal of clothing and penetration, with steps taken to make sure that her "safeword" was difficult or impossible physically and psychologically to say. Even remembering how she wrote about it makes me feel ill, particularly the self-doubt as to what this was. This person was her mentor, the person who had welcomed her to the scene. How could she do something like that?
So all this made me start to think. How do I feel about losing a potential play partner? Someone I admired?
There is a choice here. I could say "well, it wasn't me, the girl could be lying, I could still play with her and have a perfectly decent experience." And that's true, she could be and I could have that. But these kinds of things rarely come out of nowhere. And this is not the only story like this. The details are different, but now I'm seeing more of the rumors, similar situations of being coerced into either saying yes to something or being prevented from saying no.
Is consent violation always a pattern and indicative of a person to be avoided at all costs? Is it situation dependent upon the people and the boundaries in question? Does one consent violation condemn a person to never be played with again?
Any partner that I play with has the potential to cross my boundaries, to violate my consent. Part of that is me finding my boundaries. But no matter how much my inner kinkster wants to play with this particular person (because she's hot/experienced/dominant/formerly respected/etc), I can't help but be grateful to my friend for bringing this to my attention, grateful to the women who bravely spoke up. Because someone who violates consent like this, this egregiously and willfully, is someone who I believe would do (or try to do) the same to me. Maybe it's just a preference for the way I want to play, but I want to play with tops who have my best interest at heart, who care that even when I am asking to be broken, they know that they need to stop before they shatter me psychologically. Tops who care that consent is enthusiastic, who at very least try hard to read the emotional and physical state of their bottoms.
Actually, even if it was something that I ended up enjoying, it's still not ok to have gone there in the first place in the face of a no (hard or soft). That's just teaching me that my consent does not matter, that I should not trust my own knowledge of what I want, and reinforcing that breaking boundaries is ok if it has a good ending (it always has the potential for a good ending, but is significantly more likely to have a bad ending compared to things agreed to in advance).
Musings.
When I was in a particular metro city18 months ago, I saw a woman doing a demo at a fetish ball. I was entranced by what she was doing, and also a little too intimidated by my newness and her obvious experience to interact much with her.
About a year later when I visited that city again and attended a play party with a friend, I met her again. I was still new but much more confident in my desires, and I think I gave off much more of an air of active exploration instead of tentative curiosity. While I didn't play with this particular woman, it didn't upset me in the least when my friend later reported that this woman seemed to be interested in talking about playing the next time I was in town. Ego boost - this leader of the queer kink scene was interested in playing with me?! Excuse me while I preen a little and let my mind gently wander over some things I would be interested in doing with her....
I've been hearing some rumblings about this person through the friends I have in the scene in her town. Comments that maybe it's for the best that we didn't play the last time I was in town, that rumors are circulating about consent violations? As a leader in the community, someone who runs a play space, a person is both a particular target for rumors (someone is always pissed at leadership) and particularly untouchable (the reaction of most people to blame the victim for coming forward and 'rocking the boat'). Since I'm not intimately in the scene I kind of ignored things. It's true that some people are quite vigilent with their boundaries - while it's still violating consent if someone oversteps those, some can be easy to overstep even when making efforts to avoid doing so. I put it down to a case like my first potential play partner in Nashville - a bit of a missing stair at worst, someone who would be safe to play with in public if I went in knowing what I was walking into. Any consent violation would either be egregious or unlikely on the first play date during that "getting to know you" time, right?
I'm a little ashamed that I brushed things off so casually, particularly after my friend brought some writings to my attention by someone who had her consent and bodily integrity so egregiously violated that it actually made me a little nauseated to read. It wasn't a gentle pushing of boundaries over time that edged into "well, that's really more than I intended" territory. This was someone saying that sex was not something she wanted with this particular romantic and play partner. She was constantly pressured as their relationship went on to have sex, and finally a consensual make out and play session turned into involuntary removal of clothing and penetration, with steps taken to make sure that her "safeword" was difficult or impossible physically and psychologically to say. Even remembering how she wrote about it makes me feel ill, particularly the self-doubt as to what this was. This person was her mentor, the person who had welcomed her to the scene. How could she do something like that?
So all this made me start to think. How do I feel about losing a potential play partner? Someone I admired?
There is a choice here. I could say "well, it wasn't me, the girl could be lying, I could still play with her and have a perfectly decent experience." And that's true, she could be and I could have that. But these kinds of things rarely come out of nowhere. And this is not the only story like this. The details are different, but now I'm seeing more of the rumors, similar situations of being coerced into either saying yes to something or being prevented from saying no.
Is consent violation always a pattern and indicative of a person to be avoided at all costs? Is it situation dependent upon the people and the boundaries in question? Does one consent violation condemn a person to never be played with again?
Any partner that I play with has the potential to cross my boundaries, to violate my consent. Part of that is me finding my boundaries. But no matter how much my inner kinkster wants to play with this particular person (because she's hot/experienced/dominant/formerly respected/etc), I can't help but be grateful to my friend for bringing this to my attention, grateful to the women who bravely spoke up. Because someone who violates consent like this, this egregiously and willfully, is someone who I believe would do (or try to do) the same to me. Maybe it's just a preference for the way I want to play, but I want to play with tops who have my best interest at heart, who care that even when I am asking to be broken, they know that they need to stop before they shatter me psychologically. Tops who care that consent is enthusiastic, who at very least try hard to read the emotional and physical state of their bottoms.
Actually, even if it was something that I ended up enjoying, it's still not ok to have gone there in the first place in the face of a no (hard or soft). That's just teaching me that my consent does not matter, that I should not trust my own knowledge of what I want, and reinforcing that breaking boundaries is ok if it has a good ending (it always has the potential for a good ending, but is significantly more likely to have a bad ending compared to things agreed to in advance).
Sunday, February 22, 2015
circles
After writing that post about feelings I miss, I felt little stirrings of a few of them this weekend. Life circles.
It was a mixed bag of emotions, melancholy and a sense of sadness or disappointment were actually quite present for overall feeling pretty good about the weekend. Maybe it's just that there were bright points. I'll start with the sad so I can end on the good.
Things with M. I've been really shying away from sadism, particularly from her sadism. We went to a set of rope classes down in Memphis, my first time down there. The first class way Tying for Sex and Sadism, essentially some creative ideas of ways to hold a body in creative places or positions where you could both fuck and hit them at the same time. M had another partner lined up in case I hadn't joined, so they tied and I worked with the woman who was sitting alone next to us. She was still quite new to rope and the public kink scene, her husband was traveling for work or he would have been there. Clearly I wasn't going to truss her up and start dry humping her while using a paddle, we'd just met and that's not my style. But we had a nice time chatting, and I helped her learn a few tricks about a single column tie, and I put her in her first chest harness and (at her request) took a picture for her. She tied me a few times, and we even did a few of the more positionally-suggestive ones, but we certainly didn't get to the moaning and growling stage that some folks on the other side of the room were finding.
The next class was Partial Suspensions for Pain Play. My newbie partner had to go to work, and M was still roping with Shy. I considered offering myself up to either side of things with a stranger, but then decided to sit and watch, and was glad that I did. The whole thing was certainly creative, he had a lot of good information, but his idea of sadism was a lot of open handed slapping on the inner thigh and actually stepping on her thigh or calf with a part of his considerable weight. I don't know why, but stuff like that just freaks me out, I'm always afraid they're going to break a bone or something! M was happily trussing up Shy and doing some rather painful things with this look of glee on her face. And that's when it kind of started coalescing for me.
A part of me wants pain, badly. I want to feel pain, and I want to accept pain for someone else's happiness in giving it. I certainly don't want to play with someone who is unhappy or bored or upset about hurting me. But there's kind pain, and there's cruel pain. M is cruel with her pain, looking immediately to maximize that intense unpleasant sensation. There's no subtlety or endurance aspect, it's 0-60 pretty damn fast, and it stays at 60 until she can push it higher. Watching her, I got a sense of carelessness. She didn't think about trying to minimize other discomforts (like lying half naked on a freezing cement floor) and rejected my attempts to do so. The safety concerns presented by the rig we were using, trying to partial suspend over a 1 foot wide beam that was about 8 inches from the ground, may have crossed her mind but certainly didn't seem to affect her actions. This person could fall off the platform without having her hands to break her fall, or she might have a corner digging in to her side as she sprawls across the beam. Stepping on her thigh is not just pressure on her thigh but is also digging that muscle into the corner of this platform. The presenter smacking his sub with the bottom of his bare foot is fundamentally different than doing it with the heavy soled boots M had on. That her bottom wasn't actually a masochist and was pretty much doing this to be nice never seemed to be taken into consideration as M was going about having her sadistic fun and showing off to all the other sadist tops that she, too, could be mean and laugh while she did it.
The other thing that made me uncomfortable and nervous were her comments to me throughout the day. About what she was planning to do to me later. Reaching out to randomly pinch my nipple or smack my ass. Just general entitlement to my body, in painful ways when I was not looking for pain. Later when she was going to scene with Cat, a well known rope bottom, and it seemed that they were going to do a "nice" rope scene, she told me that it meant that mine would have to be the hard/painful scene. And I just was not in that kind of mindset, and every moment was pushing me further and further from it!
When we first started playing, she at least tried to find some sense of connection. She would hug me. Stretch my shoulders sensuously. Look at me.
But when we did try and tie that night, and even when we had a fun scene last week, there was none of that. She was looking at the rope and at the audience, finding ways to push the envelope and to impress. And she did, don't get me wrong - it was fun and gained us a lot of acclaim for the evening. But last night when we did try and go up in the air it was clearly not well thought out at all, and her focus was so much more on the rope and the "task" than on the process. Sometimes you rope just to see what you can do, where you can push. After watching her take her time and really listen and be with Cat, it hurt to just be her little rope toy, a body that she could try and do cool things to. She talked as we drove about feeling connected to Cat in that moment, of giving her something unusually tender and sweet when she normally gets strenuous and painful. And I was sad, because she didn't see that that's what I was asking for too, silently.
So I kind of brought it up, which I'm actually really proud of. We were both in this melancholy mood, and she actually asked(!) when I told her I was figuring some things out about how I wanted to play. I told her that it was pretty clear that she and I were starting to look for different things, that as much as I want to explore her sadism and the act of accepting that, the more we talk about it (and now that it's possible since I'm not with GF), the more scared of it I become. That maybe the kind of topping that she so disdains, "safe" topping or topping to create a scene that makes the bottom happy (even if they want that to involve crying and begging for mercy), is the kind that I want and need right now.
As I was saying it, I was thinking of a scene I'd watched the night before, while M was tying Cat. I met a woman at the rope classes, we'd ended up chatting on a break and she and a husband/wife duo were actually tying near M, Shy, and me. She caught something in me, some little spark was there as I listened to her talk. That she was a lesbian and had already lived several lifetimes of adventures while only looking maybe in her 30s/40s intrigued me further, especially with her bottoming to this cis hetero Dom guy in front of his wife. We kept talking, and I kept sneaking smiles in at them through the classes. We went out to dinner with the presenting couple and the main hosts from the club (a "power" couple in the rigging world who M is trying to get closer to), even though I much rather would have gone with these folks.
I was happy to find that they had returned for the party as well, and it quickly became clear that it hadn't quite been their intention to do so, although the guy, Bob, did have a scene lined up with Shy. The eye-catching woman (J) and I talked and hung out both alone and with her friends.
(blush time - when M and I got back to the club and were going to change, J asked why we were changing. M replied that we wanted to get all sexy for the party, and J looked at me and said something along the lines of "wait, but you're already sexy." That and when she whistled as I walked back out of the bathroom after changing was enough to give me little happy stomach feelings - being wanted and wanting that spark of connection is such a validating feeling)
For better or for worse, J is even more of a rope bottom than I am, and that's saying something. So even though in hindsight I would have loved to have tried tying her, at the time I was way too intimidated. So we watched Bob and Shy. And it was just so beautiful it made my heart ache with longing for this large, gentle, cruel man to do that to me, too. She's not a masochist, but is recovering from a break up with her former dominant, and needed to hold someone else's desire for giving pain, needed to step into that role as a submissive to someone. He was gifting that to her. Getting something from it, certainly, but getting a lot just from giving to her. He held her tightly, tenderly, a small smile ghosting on his lips, both of them with eyes closed. He started just with a single column tie around one wrist, using that one strand of rope to wrap and unwrap her body, letting her feel his control, his presence. Eventually he took her to the ground, put her in a coconut leg wrap under a futo, partially suspended her with his own strength. There were flickers of pain across her features, but also sinking in, breathing into that pain as strength, as connection. When they were through he held her in his lap, her face buried in his shoulder. God it was beautiful.
As M was preparing to do...something...with me, they were all getting ready to go. We had been talking about the day, and Bob had been particularly engaging in asking me about the things I had gotten from the day. As M was making moves to clear an area for us, I shyly gave J a hug. I happily gave Bob's wife a hug. And, only slightly hesitating, I gave big manly Bob a hug. His long arms wrapped around me in a way I don't often experience, and he pulled me closely in towards him, holding me with conviction and intent. I practically melted into him. I felt so many emotions, and he just continued to hold on with the same conviction. So I let out my breath that was caught in my throat. And I let myself be held, told myself to be open, and started to feel it happen. This man, who truly was a sadist when he was playing with J during the class, was somehow able to be kind in his sadism. Generous. Connecting. Loving.
Finally we broke the hug, and I could feel myself pushing down a feeling of tears at the loss. What an unexpected connection in such an unexpected way. I'm sad that I didn't ask Bob to tie me, and I'm sad that I didn't ask J if I could tie her and explore that spark of desire through rope. But man did it feel good driving home, even melancholy about not enjoyably playing the night before, knowing that I'd had a spark of connection and friendship and desire in such an unexpected place with three unexpected but wonderful people.
It was a mixed bag of emotions, melancholy and a sense of sadness or disappointment were actually quite present for overall feeling pretty good about the weekend. Maybe it's just that there were bright points. I'll start with the sad so I can end on the good.
Things with M. I've been really shying away from sadism, particularly from her sadism. We went to a set of rope classes down in Memphis, my first time down there. The first class way Tying for Sex and Sadism, essentially some creative ideas of ways to hold a body in creative places or positions where you could both fuck and hit them at the same time. M had another partner lined up in case I hadn't joined, so they tied and I worked with the woman who was sitting alone next to us. She was still quite new to rope and the public kink scene, her husband was traveling for work or he would have been there. Clearly I wasn't going to truss her up and start dry humping her while using a paddle, we'd just met and that's not my style. But we had a nice time chatting, and I helped her learn a few tricks about a single column tie, and I put her in her first chest harness and (at her request) took a picture for her. She tied me a few times, and we even did a few of the more positionally-suggestive ones, but we certainly didn't get to the moaning and growling stage that some folks on the other side of the room were finding.
The next class was Partial Suspensions for Pain Play. My newbie partner had to go to work, and M was still roping with Shy. I considered offering myself up to either side of things with a stranger, but then decided to sit and watch, and was glad that I did. The whole thing was certainly creative, he had a lot of good information, but his idea of sadism was a lot of open handed slapping on the inner thigh and actually stepping on her thigh or calf with a part of his considerable weight. I don't know why, but stuff like that just freaks me out, I'm always afraid they're going to break a bone or something! M was happily trussing up Shy and doing some rather painful things with this look of glee on her face. And that's when it kind of started coalescing for me.
A part of me wants pain, badly. I want to feel pain, and I want to accept pain for someone else's happiness in giving it. I certainly don't want to play with someone who is unhappy or bored or upset about hurting me. But there's kind pain, and there's cruel pain. M is cruel with her pain, looking immediately to maximize that intense unpleasant sensation. There's no subtlety or endurance aspect, it's 0-60 pretty damn fast, and it stays at 60 until she can push it higher. Watching her, I got a sense of carelessness. She didn't think about trying to minimize other discomforts (like lying half naked on a freezing cement floor) and rejected my attempts to do so. The safety concerns presented by the rig we were using, trying to partial suspend over a 1 foot wide beam that was about 8 inches from the ground, may have crossed her mind but certainly didn't seem to affect her actions. This person could fall off the platform without having her hands to break her fall, or she might have a corner digging in to her side as she sprawls across the beam. Stepping on her thigh is not just pressure on her thigh but is also digging that muscle into the corner of this platform. The presenter smacking his sub with the bottom of his bare foot is fundamentally different than doing it with the heavy soled boots M had on. That her bottom wasn't actually a masochist and was pretty much doing this to be nice never seemed to be taken into consideration as M was going about having her sadistic fun and showing off to all the other sadist tops that she, too, could be mean and laugh while she did it.
The other thing that made me uncomfortable and nervous were her comments to me throughout the day. About what she was planning to do to me later. Reaching out to randomly pinch my nipple or smack my ass. Just general entitlement to my body, in painful ways when I was not looking for pain. Later when she was going to scene with Cat, a well known rope bottom, and it seemed that they were going to do a "nice" rope scene, she told me that it meant that mine would have to be the hard/painful scene. And I just was not in that kind of mindset, and every moment was pushing me further and further from it!
When we first started playing, she at least tried to find some sense of connection. She would hug me. Stretch my shoulders sensuously. Look at me.
But when we did try and tie that night, and even when we had a fun scene last week, there was none of that. She was looking at the rope and at the audience, finding ways to push the envelope and to impress. And she did, don't get me wrong - it was fun and gained us a lot of acclaim for the evening. But last night when we did try and go up in the air it was clearly not well thought out at all, and her focus was so much more on the rope and the "task" than on the process. Sometimes you rope just to see what you can do, where you can push. After watching her take her time and really listen and be with Cat, it hurt to just be her little rope toy, a body that she could try and do cool things to. She talked as we drove about feeling connected to Cat in that moment, of giving her something unusually tender and sweet when she normally gets strenuous and painful. And I was sad, because she didn't see that that's what I was asking for too, silently.
So I kind of brought it up, which I'm actually really proud of. We were both in this melancholy mood, and she actually asked(!) when I told her I was figuring some things out about how I wanted to play. I told her that it was pretty clear that she and I were starting to look for different things, that as much as I want to explore her sadism and the act of accepting that, the more we talk about it (and now that it's possible since I'm not with GF), the more scared of it I become. That maybe the kind of topping that she so disdains, "safe" topping or topping to create a scene that makes the bottom happy (even if they want that to involve crying and begging for mercy), is the kind that I want and need right now.
As I was saying it, I was thinking of a scene I'd watched the night before, while M was tying Cat. I met a woman at the rope classes, we'd ended up chatting on a break and she and a husband/wife duo were actually tying near M, Shy, and me. She caught something in me, some little spark was there as I listened to her talk. That she was a lesbian and had already lived several lifetimes of adventures while only looking maybe in her 30s/40s intrigued me further, especially with her bottoming to this cis hetero Dom guy in front of his wife. We kept talking, and I kept sneaking smiles in at them through the classes. We went out to dinner with the presenting couple and the main hosts from the club (a "power" couple in the rigging world who M is trying to get closer to), even though I much rather would have gone with these folks.
I was happy to find that they had returned for the party as well, and it quickly became clear that it hadn't quite been their intention to do so, although the guy, Bob, did have a scene lined up with Shy. The eye-catching woman (J) and I talked and hung out both alone and with her friends.
(blush time - when M and I got back to the club and were going to change, J asked why we were changing. M replied that we wanted to get all sexy for the party, and J looked at me and said something along the lines of "wait, but you're already sexy." That and when she whistled as I walked back out of the bathroom after changing was enough to give me little happy stomach feelings - being wanted and wanting that spark of connection is such a validating feeling)
For better or for worse, J is even more of a rope bottom than I am, and that's saying something. So even though in hindsight I would have loved to have tried tying her, at the time I was way too intimidated. So we watched Bob and Shy. And it was just so beautiful it made my heart ache with longing for this large, gentle, cruel man to do that to me, too. She's not a masochist, but is recovering from a break up with her former dominant, and needed to hold someone else's desire for giving pain, needed to step into that role as a submissive to someone. He was gifting that to her. Getting something from it, certainly, but getting a lot just from giving to her. He held her tightly, tenderly, a small smile ghosting on his lips, both of them with eyes closed. He started just with a single column tie around one wrist, using that one strand of rope to wrap and unwrap her body, letting her feel his control, his presence. Eventually he took her to the ground, put her in a coconut leg wrap under a futo, partially suspended her with his own strength. There were flickers of pain across her features, but also sinking in, breathing into that pain as strength, as connection. When they were through he held her in his lap, her face buried in his shoulder. God it was beautiful.
As M was preparing to do...something...with me, they were all getting ready to go. We had been talking about the day, and Bob had been particularly engaging in asking me about the things I had gotten from the day. As M was making moves to clear an area for us, I shyly gave J a hug. I happily gave Bob's wife a hug. And, only slightly hesitating, I gave big manly Bob a hug. His long arms wrapped around me in a way I don't often experience, and he pulled me closely in towards him, holding me with conviction and intent. I practically melted into him. I felt so many emotions, and he just continued to hold on with the same conviction. So I let out my breath that was caught in my throat. And I let myself be held, told myself to be open, and started to feel it happen. This man, who truly was a sadist when he was playing with J during the class, was somehow able to be kind in his sadism. Generous. Connecting. Loving.
Finally we broke the hug, and I could feel myself pushing down a feeling of tears at the loss. What an unexpected connection in such an unexpected way. I'm sad that I didn't ask Bob to tie me, and I'm sad that I didn't ask J if I could tie her and explore that spark of desire through rope. But man did it feel good driving home, even melancholy about not enjoyably playing the night before, knowing that I'd had a spark of connection and friendship and desire in such an unexpected place with three unexpected but wonderful people.
Thursday, February 19, 2015
lost feelings i miss
- When I was in PC, I remember having this sudden awakening to the feeling of being in my own skin. The wind across my arms and shoulders was suddenly sensual, embracing, invigorating. I kept being surprised that it kept happening, over and over, just being overtaken by the delight in being in my body in that moment, in nature.
- Similarly, I remember not listening to music for an extended period of time, at least a few months. One day I picked up my ipod and listened to it while I did laundry, and found myself actually getting too distracted to move my hands. I stood there above a basin of soapy water, suds dripping off my hands, and felt the emotions of the song so strongly. It reminded me of being in high school, when I would listen to the radio or my CD player (old school, I know). Music felt like it could speak my heart, could move my emotions from one extreme to the other, until I got older and it just became background noise.
- I'm trying to remember the last time I felt desired, in a way that I didn't feel defensive or guilty about. Maybe a year ago, falling for GF? Almost 2 years ago, flirting my way through the Tucson queer scene, feeling so treasured and loved by several lovers/friends/crushes.
- Lust. I was reading an article on ScarletTeen just now (after following a link from Savage Love) about sexual pleasure. That moment when you see someone and you can actually feel the blood redirect down to your cunt. A casual touch of their hand on your shoulder or thigh makes you squirm inside even as you try to subtly lean in to maintain that tiny point of contact. Both of you leaning in towards that first kiss - hesitant and waiting for one person to close the gap, heartbeat and breathing blocking out any other noises, attention focused to a pinpoint. Every piece of clothing that comes off is almost enough to get you off, no other stimulation needed. When was the last time I felt "can't keep my hands off of you" lust? A year ago? Maybe 6 months? (I miss this feeling so deeply right now, yet I think it might be good for me to miss it for a while longer. I haven't had sex in 2 months. Maybe it could be ok to go without it for a while, not just because I'm long distance monogamous, but because I'm saying yes to letting my mind and body take a break from sexuality with other people).
- And where does lust give way to the feeling of being in love? Is love ever uncomplicated? I still certainly feel a lot of love and caring from and towards people in my life. But that's different from being in love. Which is different than falling in love. I felt secure in love with S, despite moments of insecurity, I believed we would always find a way.
- Roping with B. The first heavy flogging I did with Natalie, when it was just awe inspiring to both of us that we'd gone so much farther than we expected. Those are both kink examples, but that space is so exemplifying of feeling totally open to another person. Body Electric, over and over. Even if the moment ends and feelings become complicated or guarded again, for that second or minute or hour or day, hearts and bodies and spirits are wide awake and giving to one another. I remember asking S a question about what she wanted from sex (since that's what our relationship was going to be, duh :p). She told me that the most important thing for her was for both of us to be fully present - not just physically, but emotionally. Spiritually. To hold that space together and for one another. Mind expanding orgasms in the Saharan heat as the electricity cuts out and the situational anxiety gets pushed away for one never-ending moment
- Along with being open and present with another person, being open and present to myself. Have I ever truly just accepted who I am? I think I've gotten close, sometimes. I was proud of myself when I had lost weight and was working towards academic goals and was making friends. But was I being present with myself? Body Electric, or intensive journal writing in PC or to S might have been as "with myself" as I've ever been. How can I recapture that? This blog is a decent start, although it's funny that I only write here when I'm stressed/single-ish.
- I don't remember the last time I felt able to eat something for the pleasure of eating it, without guilt, or thinking about portion size, or trying to figure out the calorie count, or trying to "burn it off", or even guilt over where it's from, how it was produced, whether the labor was fairly paid or the animal was humanely raised and killed. When food was uncomplicated.
- Similarly, I remember not listening to music for an extended period of time, at least a few months. One day I picked up my ipod and listened to it while I did laundry, and found myself actually getting too distracted to move my hands. I stood there above a basin of soapy water, suds dripping off my hands, and felt the emotions of the song so strongly. It reminded me of being in high school, when I would listen to the radio or my CD player (old school, I know). Music felt like it could speak my heart, could move my emotions from one extreme to the other, until I got older and it just became background noise.
- I'm trying to remember the last time I felt desired, in a way that I didn't feel defensive or guilty about. Maybe a year ago, falling for GF? Almost 2 years ago, flirting my way through the Tucson queer scene, feeling so treasured and loved by several lovers/friends/crushes.
- Lust. I was reading an article on ScarletTeen just now (after following a link from Savage Love) about sexual pleasure. That moment when you see someone and you can actually feel the blood redirect down to your cunt. A casual touch of their hand on your shoulder or thigh makes you squirm inside even as you try to subtly lean in to maintain that tiny point of contact. Both of you leaning in towards that first kiss - hesitant and waiting for one person to close the gap, heartbeat and breathing blocking out any other noises, attention focused to a pinpoint. Every piece of clothing that comes off is almost enough to get you off, no other stimulation needed. When was the last time I felt "can't keep my hands off of you" lust? A year ago? Maybe 6 months? (I miss this feeling so deeply right now, yet I think it might be good for me to miss it for a while longer. I haven't had sex in 2 months. Maybe it could be ok to go without it for a while, not just because I'm long distance monogamous, but because I'm saying yes to letting my mind and body take a break from sexuality with other people).
- And where does lust give way to the feeling of being in love? Is love ever uncomplicated? I still certainly feel a lot of love and caring from and towards people in my life. But that's different from being in love. Which is different than falling in love. I felt secure in love with S, despite moments of insecurity, I believed we would always find a way.
- Roping with B. The first heavy flogging I did with Natalie, when it was just awe inspiring to both of us that we'd gone so much farther than we expected. Those are both kink examples, but that space is so exemplifying of feeling totally open to another person. Body Electric, over and over. Even if the moment ends and feelings become complicated or guarded again, for that second or minute or hour or day, hearts and bodies and spirits are wide awake and giving to one another. I remember asking S a question about what she wanted from sex (since that's what our relationship was going to be, duh :p). She told me that the most important thing for her was for both of us to be fully present - not just physically, but emotionally. Spiritually. To hold that space together and for one another. Mind expanding orgasms in the Saharan heat as the electricity cuts out and the situational anxiety gets pushed away for one never-ending moment
- Along with being open and present with another person, being open and present to myself. Have I ever truly just accepted who I am? I think I've gotten close, sometimes. I was proud of myself when I had lost weight and was working towards academic goals and was making friends. But was I being present with myself? Body Electric, or intensive journal writing in PC or to S might have been as "with myself" as I've ever been. How can I recapture that? This blog is a decent start, although it's funny that I only write here when I'm stressed/single-ish.
- I don't remember the last time I felt able to eat something for the pleasure of eating it, without guilt, or thinking about portion size, or trying to figure out the calorie count, or trying to "burn it off", or even guilt over where it's from, how it was produced, whether the labor was fairly paid or the animal was humanely raised and killed. When food was uncomplicated.
therapy
Today was my first session/intake at the counseling center. My tuition is mind-blowingly high, but it does mean that I got to show up today, and for as many visits as I want, without even showing them my ID, let alone an insurance card. Perks?
It was a mixed bag. I definitely went in with a plan, a set agenda. It kind of wiggled away from me a bit, but I think we at least glanced off of all of the things I want to work on. She did get a little caught in my depression history, which I expected, but was also a little amused by since that's truly not what had brought me back to therapy 8 years later.
I told her that I binge and purge. That was hard, harder than I thought even though I totally had intended to tell her. I've only ever told GF, once while driving through the dark along yet another empty stretch of I-10. I said it like it was something I used to do, once upon a time when I was younger, instead of something that I'd done in her house a few days ago when everyone was gone at work. She told me that she used to hear her mom doing that, when she was young, and that the sound made her so sad to think that her mom hated her body that much. I felt such a deep sadness and guilt, and I actually stopped for a little while after that. But slowly it started creeping up again.
I first made myself throw up when I was...young. I remember, I was at my Dad's house, I'd just eaten a massive chef's salad. Normally my dad was always trying to encourage me to finish my food, I thought he'd be proud of me, but his comment on realizing that I'd eaten all of it was surprise, something along the lines of "That was supposed to be for multiple people - you ate it all?" In hindsight, I really think it was only for multiple people if you were using it as a side dish, but who knows, this was easily 14 years ago. So I went to the bathroom and tried to make myself throw up. I don't remember why I thought that would be a good idea, but I did. I don't remember much of his reaction, maybe some bafflement and sadness. I knew it wasn't a good idea, at least not to do it if I was going to get caught.
After that I didn't do it again for a while. I did it occasionally in high school, increasing frequency my senior year (I think at least the school secretary knew, but only hinted and I was happy to play dumb). I did it on and off in college, especially after my sophomore year when we started having weight adjustments to our rowing scores. Suddenly my first place 2K time shifted down the list, sometimes dramatically, when I was compared to rowers 50lbs lighter than me. It was fair, to be sure, and I needed a reality check about all the weight I gained my freshman year, but it did sometimes compel me to make some poor choices in the name of keeping my weight in check (since I couldn't keep my self-control around the delicious desserts our school seemed to provide everywhere, all the time).
I didn't purge often in Peace Corps, pretty much stopped for the two years except for a handful of times. It just felt unimaginably wasteful, and so painfully immediate, to be throwing up food voluntarily when there were plenty of people outside of my courtyard 100 feet away who would have been happy to have so much extra food that they could just throw some of it away. I tried to embrace my weight as best I could, and focused on getting through the time.
In Tucson it was on and off, but pretty regular when opportunity presented itself. Maybe once a week up to 4 or 5 times a week, occasionally multiple times a day. It's gotten similarly bad here the past few months, overeating my goals almost every day, and either exercising a bit excessively or making myself throw it back up. It used to be I would only do it if my roommate was out of the house. Now I just wait until she's asleep with her white noise machine and the a/c going. Escalation. I start to eat and I feel hard pressed to stop, it's like my mind just goes into this blank space and all I can think of is to eat as much as I can easily consume in as little time as possible.
My therapist seemed proud of me for telling her. When I told her that she was the first person I'd ever told, she congratulated me, and asked me how it felt. I laughed. "Surreal." It's true, I still can't quite believe it. I feel like my relationship and poly/kink problems are so much more pressing right now, the interpersonal dynamic issues, being emotionally closed - those are problems! I told her it kind of killed me to be such a stereotype. High intelligence, high performing independent female who got bullied as a kid and is under a lot of stress, so to feel in control of something she tries to control her weight through disordered eating - purging, obsessive control over when/what/how, etc. We all want to be a special snowflake, and yet this was exactly what any psych textbook could tell you about identifying women with eating disorders.
Once upon a time I had a blog. I would chronicle everything I ate. I'd celebrate those days when I ate under 1000 calories. I looked at and reposted pictures of painfully skinny girls with protruding hip bones and clavicles that had captions like "Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels" (this was pre-tumblr, of course). I would trade "support" with other girls like me, those girls who would talk about "Ana/Mia" like they were an adorable pair of chibi friends instead of destructive eating patterns. I look back on that in kind of a horror, but it was real, it was what was occupying my brain whenever it wasn't consumed with wanting to cut myself, or wanting to figure out why I was starting to feel erotic stirrings towards my female friends.
Unrelated, she asked to see my scars when I told her I cut. I honestly forgot about the ones on my hip, they're the most dramatic. Most of the high school ones have actually faded, thankfully, they're pretty much invisible. But these thigh ones are faded but might not go away for a very long time. Anyway. She saw a bit of rope burn, from my self-suspension a few weeks ago. I told her the truth - it's a rope burn. She seemed to think that it was a self-injury, so I rushed to assure her that I was just in kink instead. She decidedly wasn't reassured, and seemed concerned, so I explained a little bit - I like to tie myself up and be tied up with rope, and I like to get hit with things. I did a terrible scatter shot of some of the reasons why people do kink, trying to reassure her that we aren't all crazy, it's not a form of self injury, etc, etc. I asked her before I left if it was going to be an issue, but she seemed game for giving it a go so we'll see how that works out. I wonder what she'll say when I tell her how much kink inspires me to love my body? ;)
It was a mixed bag. I definitely went in with a plan, a set agenda. It kind of wiggled away from me a bit, but I think we at least glanced off of all of the things I want to work on. She did get a little caught in my depression history, which I expected, but was also a little amused by since that's truly not what had brought me back to therapy 8 years later.
I told her that I binge and purge. That was hard, harder than I thought even though I totally had intended to tell her. I've only ever told GF, once while driving through the dark along yet another empty stretch of I-10. I said it like it was something I used to do, once upon a time when I was younger, instead of something that I'd done in her house a few days ago when everyone was gone at work. She told me that she used to hear her mom doing that, when she was young, and that the sound made her so sad to think that her mom hated her body that much. I felt such a deep sadness and guilt, and I actually stopped for a little while after that. But slowly it started creeping up again.
I first made myself throw up when I was...young. I remember, I was at my Dad's house, I'd just eaten a massive chef's salad. Normally my dad was always trying to encourage me to finish my food, I thought he'd be proud of me, but his comment on realizing that I'd eaten all of it was surprise, something along the lines of "That was supposed to be for multiple people - you ate it all?" In hindsight, I really think it was only for multiple people if you were using it as a side dish, but who knows, this was easily 14 years ago. So I went to the bathroom and tried to make myself throw up. I don't remember why I thought that would be a good idea, but I did. I don't remember much of his reaction, maybe some bafflement and sadness. I knew it wasn't a good idea, at least not to do it if I was going to get caught.
After that I didn't do it again for a while. I did it occasionally in high school, increasing frequency my senior year (I think at least the school secretary knew, but only hinted and I was happy to play dumb). I did it on and off in college, especially after my sophomore year when we started having weight adjustments to our rowing scores. Suddenly my first place 2K time shifted down the list, sometimes dramatically, when I was compared to rowers 50lbs lighter than me. It was fair, to be sure, and I needed a reality check about all the weight I gained my freshman year, but it did sometimes compel me to make some poor choices in the name of keeping my weight in check (since I couldn't keep my self-control around the delicious desserts our school seemed to provide everywhere, all the time).
I didn't purge often in Peace Corps, pretty much stopped for the two years except for a handful of times. It just felt unimaginably wasteful, and so painfully immediate, to be throwing up food voluntarily when there were plenty of people outside of my courtyard 100 feet away who would have been happy to have so much extra food that they could just throw some of it away. I tried to embrace my weight as best I could, and focused on getting through the time.
In Tucson it was on and off, but pretty regular when opportunity presented itself. Maybe once a week up to 4 or 5 times a week, occasionally multiple times a day. It's gotten similarly bad here the past few months, overeating my goals almost every day, and either exercising a bit excessively or making myself throw it back up. It used to be I would only do it if my roommate was out of the house. Now I just wait until she's asleep with her white noise machine and the a/c going. Escalation. I start to eat and I feel hard pressed to stop, it's like my mind just goes into this blank space and all I can think of is to eat as much as I can easily consume in as little time as possible.
My therapist seemed proud of me for telling her. When I told her that she was the first person I'd ever told, she congratulated me, and asked me how it felt. I laughed. "Surreal." It's true, I still can't quite believe it. I feel like my relationship and poly/kink problems are so much more pressing right now, the interpersonal dynamic issues, being emotionally closed - those are problems! I told her it kind of killed me to be such a stereotype. High intelligence, high performing independent female who got bullied as a kid and is under a lot of stress, so to feel in control of something she tries to control her weight through disordered eating - purging, obsessive control over when/what/how, etc. We all want to be a special snowflake, and yet this was exactly what any psych textbook could tell you about identifying women with eating disorders.
Once upon a time I had a blog. I would chronicle everything I ate. I'd celebrate those days when I ate under 1000 calories. I looked at and reposted pictures of painfully skinny girls with protruding hip bones and clavicles that had captions like "Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels" (this was pre-tumblr, of course). I would trade "support" with other girls like me, those girls who would talk about "Ana/Mia" like they were an adorable pair of chibi friends instead of destructive eating patterns. I look back on that in kind of a horror, but it was real, it was what was occupying my brain whenever it wasn't consumed with wanting to cut myself, or wanting to figure out why I was starting to feel erotic stirrings towards my female friends.
Unrelated, she asked to see my scars when I told her I cut. I honestly forgot about the ones on my hip, they're the most dramatic. Most of the high school ones have actually faded, thankfully, they're pretty much invisible. But these thigh ones are faded but might not go away for a very long time. Anyway. She saw a bit of rope burn, from my self-suspension a few weeks ago. I told her the truth - it's a rope burn. She seemed to think that it was a self-injury, so I rushed to assure her that I was just in kink instead. She decidedly wasn't reassured, and seemed concerned, so I explained a little bit - I like to tie myself up and be tied up with rope, and I like to get hit with things. I did a terrible scatter shot of some of the reasons why people do kink, trying to reassure her that we aren't all crazy, it's not a form of self injury, etc, etc. I asked her before I left if it was going to be an issue, but she seemed game for giving it a go so we'll see how that works out. I wonder what she'll say when I tell her how much kink inspires me to love my body? ;)
Monday, February 16, 2015
drunken musings
We had a snow day today. I see pictures on Facebook of the snow on the East coast, yet another blizzard adding to multiple feet of snow. Here in Nashville we had maybe an inch? Granted, the precipitation is more ice than anything - every tree branch and car door is encased, and the roads and sidewalks are nothing short of treacherous.
GF asked me for intention today. She's reaching out, doing the work, searching within herself, asking me to respond. An answering glow in the dark. I didn't have much to offer, not the way that she deserved. I told her that I'm scared, that I miss her. That she's the person I would usually go to talk about my emotions surrounding life, but now that feels weird since the emotions that I need to hash out are my emotions toward her, toward us. And yet, she's ok with that. I just don't understand why this relationship means so much, that we are both willing to subsume such big parts of ourselves to be in it. Or rather, at this point, why she's willing; since I've now shown myself to be less willing.
I'm scared that I'm making a mistake. So much of my heart is convinced that this relationship is over, that I'm just waiting until I go home to tell her that. But then I start read. ing More Than Two, this great book that has given words to my emotions, and suddenly I start feeling fear and doubt. I do want the trust and the freedom to explore the wondrous adventures that life has to offer me at the age of 26. I want to have play partners like M, and cuddle partners like H (a school friend), and make out buddies, and maybe even other relationships. But I also want that security, that trust, that person to come home to. And I'm starting to worry that it takes a certain amount of emotional distance to allow myself those explorations. Would I be happy in that kind of relationship?
A friend of mine here in Nashville is married, in a poly marriage. She has a boyfriend/play partner, who I'm also friends with, and other guys that she's interested in, whom her boyfriend and husband encourage her in pursuing. Her husband has a girlfriend, and presumably play partners. I look at that relationship and my first reaction is sadness, maybe pity? I don't understand how they can be legally married, raising children together, and yet still actively pursing other love and play interests. It makes me feel like their marriage is for convenience, security, a sham. And yet I think that I wouldn't be unhappy in such a place, despite it's unconventionality. I want someone to come home to, someone to trust to such a deep depth that I know that, no matter what, she is coming home to me in the end, as I am coming home to her. And wouldn't it be lovely if we were still independent? If life circumstances could take us to different cities, different countries, and we could value and pursue other relationships to various degrees of intimacy, and yet still trust one another, trust the love and dedication that is there?
Maybe I will end up with S after all. That's a growing fantasy, that we will realize that she can still have children with someone else, live with someone else, and I can do the same (minus the children), but we can both love one another for who we are. At a distance, occasionally together. In sporadic contact. But still united in heart. Like I feel sometimes with my ex, my Poet. Such an age gap, such different life experiences, yet she's able to express such joy and support at whatever love I claim. I will always love her, always miss being her Muse, even as she still claims me as such we both know that things have shifted, as they do, now that we are not longer lovers. Maybe we could rekindle that?
I don't understand why it's not ok to love as I wish, to be physically and/or emotionally intimate without jealousy or insecurity. Would I lose part of my self if I were to give up being jealous?
We have another snow day tomorrow, thank goodness.
GF asked me for intention today. She's reaching out, doing the work, searching within herself, asking me to respond. An answering glow in the dark. I didn't have much to offer, not the way that she deserved. I told her that I'm scared, that I miss her. That she's the person I would usually go to talk about my emotions surrounding life, but now that feels weird since the emotions that I need to hash out are my emotions toward her, toward us. And yet, she's ok with that. I just don't understand why this relationship means so much, that we are both willing to subsume such big parts of ourselves to be in it. Or rather, at this point, why she's willing; since I've now shown myself to be less willing.
I'm scared that I'm making a mistake. So much of my heart is convinced that this relationship is over, that I'm just waiting until I go home to tell her that. But then I start read. ing More Than Two, this great book that has given words to my emotions, and suddenly I start feeling fear and doubt. I do want the trust and the freedom to explore the wondrous adventures that life has to offer me at the age of 26. I want to have play partners like M, and cuddle partners like H (a school friend), and make out buddies, and maybe even other relationships. But I also want that security, that trust, that person to come home to. And I'm starting to worry that it takes a certain amount of emotional distance to allow myself those explorations. Would I be happy in that kind of relationship?
A friend of mine here in Nashville is married, in a poly marriage. She has a boyfriend/play partner, who I'm also friends with, and other guys that she's interested in, whom her boyfriend and husband encourage her in pursuing. Her husband has a girlfriend, and presumably play partners. I look at that relationship and my first reaction is sadness, maybe pity? I don't understand how they can be legally married, raising children together, and yet still actively pursing other love and play interests. It makes me feel like their marriage is for convenience, security, a sham. And yet I think that I wouldn't be unhappy in such a place, despite it's unconventionality. I want someone to come home to, someone to trust to such a deep depth that I know that, no matter what, she is coming home to me in the end, as I am coming home to her. And wouldn't it be lovely if we were still independent? If life circumstances could take us to different cities, different countries, and we could value and pursue other relationships to various degrees of intimacy, and yet still trust one another, trust the love and dedication that is there?
Maybe I will end up with S after all. That's a growing fantasy, that we will realize that she can still have children with someone else, live with someone else, and I can do the same (minus the children), but we can both love one another for who we are. At a distance, occasionally together. In sporadic contact. But still united in heart. Like I feel sometimes with my ex, my Poet. Such an age gap, such different life experiences, yet she's able to express such joy and support at whatever love I claim. I will always love her, always miss being her Muse, even as she still claims me as such we both know that things have shifted, as they do, now that we are not longer lovers. Maybe we could rekindle that?
I don't understand why it's not ok to love as I wish, to be physically and/or emotionally intimate without jealousy or insecurity. Would I lose part of my self if I were to give up being jealous?
We have another snow day tomorrow, thank goodness.
Sunday, February 15, 2015
i don't know the word for this feeling, but I've been having it a lot lately
Yesterday was Valentine's Day. I used to be split on how I felt about it - being in love on V-day is a great excuse to get all sappy romantic, but being single always felt like I had to just shrug my shoulders and pretend I didn't like it or didn't care about it. Now I actually rather like the holiday - any day that's dedicated to reminding us about the love we have in our lives (even if that's love lost) is a pretty awesome thing.
That's a side note. The feeling - yesterday I had a really great day. I stressed over homework and didn't get to the gym, I ate terribly and didn't get some chores done, but I also had a fantastic afternoon and evening, and made some choices that made me really happy. GF wanted to include me in her V-day adventures, had sent me a lovely email reminiscing about what we did last year to celebrate the day. I was hesitant to encourage this sudden rush of "bonding" but I said ok. It was indeed nice, and I miss her and the feeling we had when we're together. Now she's asking me about my day yesterday. I did a lot of things that made me happy, that I know will make her very sad to hear about. I feel like there's a war inside of me, torn between wanting to be truthful about what was a great day, and the awareness that it's not what she expected, and thus not what would make her comfortable to hear.
What is that feeling? Guilt? Bittersweet? Paternalism? Regret? Heartbreak? Selfishness?
The fun:
I went to the bi-monthly rope class at the club in the afternoon. I learned a few new ways to tie a futo, and got to try it on myself, on a friend of mine, and got tied by both M (the instructor, who was the tipping point for a lot of the conflict GF and I have had) and another guy who I've seen around/talked to a few times. M helped me by suspending me from the last futo I did on myself :) I was hesitant to ask, yesterday was the first time she's put rope on me since the emotion explosion in November, but after having dinner with her two weeks ago and generally finding ourselves to be on similar pages, it felt like something I was ok with and actively interested in exploring. I don't know if I have a total level of trust in her or in our emotional connection, but I do think that we both have the ability to feed each others' desires in a lot of ways, and maybe that's enough right now.
So there was rope! And then there was dinner with this adorable couple I've become closer with, talking about home made kink toys and dating profiles, age differences and relationship spreadsheets. They would both like me to be more active in topping her, which makes me uncomfortable right now, but they're pretty chill when I kick the can down the road, and I loved watching them scene (and generally be all cute and cuddly) last night. Seeing their approach to poly and playing together and with others has been such an inspiration - it is possible! Her husband and his girlfriend were supposed to make an appearance last night as well, I don't think they did, but just the possibility kind of blew my mind. I hate to think of marriage as a transaction in which they raise children in a stable and socially acceptable framework, but honestly it seems to make them pretty happy to be partnered with someone that they love, but aren't necessarily holding up to the standard of being the passionate primary person from whom I derive happiness. They both date and play extensively outside of the marriage, and it actually seems comfortable (at least from knowing her and her boyfriend, who is actively seeking other relationships with her encouragement). Mind blowing.
The evening back at the club was just right for V-day. Chill, not very crowded, and I actually knew a good number of the people there. I talked with a couple that was brand new, this was their first kink anything! It made me happy to welcome them and see how happy she was in exploring this crazy thing she had wanted for so long, and her husband for supporting it, even tentatively. There was always a few scenes going all night, and everyone kind of ended up in the back of the space so it felt companionable but not overly crowded or too sparse.
M is going through a similar thing in her relationship as I am. Her partner doesn't want to stop her from playing, but he just isn't interested in kink anymore, which is a big departure from their start as a 24/7 D/s couple. She enjoys topping and has a strong sadistic leaning, but her happiness is in submission to someone she feels is even stronger than she is. So we had a decent bit to talk about. I was hesitant to play out of fear that we would fall back into the same place we were and I would just force myself into accepting it. But she asked if I was interested and what I was feeling, and I answered honestly that something playful and a little strenuous, maybe with some impact, would be good for me that night. She had the idea for a double inversion - putting me up, then self-suspending beside me on a second ring, and playing around with tying us together. Done! It made me so happy to say yes to something we were both enthusiastic about.
The experience itself was fantastic. It was very cold last night and the space just couldn't stay warm, but I didn't really have any clothing conducive to being tied so I was (per usual) in my underwear, and borrowed a pair of M's knee high striped socks, the complement to the ones she wore. It felt so good to be wrapped in rope, playful and slightly erotic. The cold actually worked in my favor, I couldn't feel my skin pinching when she was tying my hip harness even though I knew it was happening. And then I was upside down! It was easy and yet hard, painful in different ways as the night went on, with all of my weight held essentially by the fat and muscle of my upper thigh. When she was finally up and next to me, it was so playful! We hugged, almost kissed, nuzzled, pushed each other around. She smacked me a bit, grabbed my hair, pinched and pulled my nipples. Once she let herself down and then gently lowered me (still tied) onto my back on the cold cement, we kept playing a little - partial lifts with the harnesses, yanking on them across sensitive skin, breast and thigh slaps, having her sit on me and pinch and bite, using the rings to hold herself up and step on me with her stilettos (scary! not sure how I feel about that one - fun, but high risk for accident). I cuddled up around her on the ground, and the whole thing was just lovely. I still wish it was more than it was, emotionally, but for what it is, it's pretty fantastic - we have a good chemistry together. When I got upright I discovered that the entire room was staring at us :p
So it was a great night! And I didn't know what to tell GF. She's asked about it. I told her a little, not at all about the rope scene, and when she asked to know more about the emotion changes I thanked her for opening that as a possibility, but I know it hurt when I said I didn't want to tell her. At this point I know we're breaking up. I'd like to tell her in person. But that's still 2 weeks away, and in the meantime I'm pushing her away emotionally, which doesn't feel fair.
That's a side note. The feeling - yesterday I had a really great day. I stressed over homework and didn't get to the gym, I ate terribly and didn't get some chores done, but I also had a fantastic afternoon and evening, and made some choices that made me really happy. GF wanted to include me in her V-day adventures, had sent me a lovely email reminiscing about what we did last year to celebrate the day. I was hesitant to encourage this sudden rush of "bonding" but I said ok. It was indeed nice, and I miss her and the feeling we had when we're together. Now she's asking me about my day yesterday. I did a lot of things that made me happy, that I know will make her very sad to hear about. I feel like there's a war inside of me, torn between wanting to be truthful about what was a great day, and the awareness that it's not what she expected, and thus not what would make her comfortable to hear.
What is that feeling? Guilt? Bittersweet? Paternalism? Regret? Heartbreak? Selfishness?
The fun:
I went to the bi-monthly rope class at the club in the afternoon. I learned a few new ways to tie a futo, and got to try it on myself, on a friend of mine, and got tied by both M (the instructor, who was the tipping point for a lot of the conflict GF and I have had) and another guy who I've seen around/talked to a few times. M helped me by suspending me from the last futo I did on myself :) I was hesitant to ask, yesterday was the first time she's put rope on me since the emotion explosion in November, but after having dinner with her two weeks ago and generally finding ourselves to be on similar pages, it felt like something I was ok with and actively interested in exploring. I don't know if I have a total level of trust in her or in our emotional connection, but I do think that we both have the ability to feed each others' desires in a lot of ways, and maybe that's enough right now.
So there was rope! And then there was dinner with this adorable couple I've become closer with, talking about home made kink toys and dating profiles, age differences and relationship spreadsheets. They would both like me to be more active in topping her, which makes me uncomfortable right now, but they're pretty chill when I kick the can down the road, and I loved watching them scene (and generally be all cute and cuddly) last night. Seeing their approach to poly and playing together and with others has been such an inspiration - it is possible! Her husband and his girlfriend were supposed to make an appearance last night as well, I don't think they did, but just the possibility kind of blew my mind. I hate to think of marriage as a transaction in which they raise children in a stable and socially acceptable framework, but honestly it seems to make them pretty happy to be partnered with someone that they love, but aren't necessarily holding up to the standard of being the passionate primary person from whom I derive happiness. They both date and play extensively outside of the marriage, and it actually seems comfortable (at least from knowing her and her boyfriend, who is actively seeking other relationships with her encouragement). Mind blowing.
The evening back at the club was just right for V-day. Chill, not very crowded, and I actually knew a good number of the people there. I talked with a couple that was brand new, this was their first kink anything! It made me happy to welcome them and see how happy she was in exploring this crazy thing she had wanted for so long, and her husband for supporting it, even tentatively. There was always a few scenes going all night, and everyone kind of ended up in the back of the space so it felt companionable but not overly crowded or too sparse.
M is going through a similar thing in her relationship as I am. Her partner doesn't want to stop her from playing, but he just isn't interested in kink anymore, which is a big departure from their start as a 24/7 D/s couple. She enjoys topping and has a strong sadistic leaning, but her happiness is in submission to someone she feels is even stronger than she is. So we had a decent bit to talk about. I was hesitant to play out of fear that we would fall back into the same place we were and I would just force myself into accepting it. But she asked if I was interested and what I was feeling, and I answered honestly that something playful and a little strenuous, maybe with some impact, would be good for me that night. She had the idea for a double inversion - putting me up, then self-suspending beside me on a second ring, and playing around with tying us together. Done! It made me so happy to say yes to something we were both enthusiastic about.
The experience itself was fantastic. It was very cold last night and the space just couldn't stay warm, but I didn't really have any clothing conducive to being tied so I was (per usual) in my underwear, and borrowed a pair of M's knee high striped socks, the complement to the ones she wore. It felt so good to be wrapped in rope, playful and slightly erotic. The cold actually worked in my favor, I couldn't feel my skin pinching when she was tying my hip harness even though I knew it was happening. And then I was upside down! It was easy and yet hard, painful in different ways as the night went on, with all of my weight held essentially by the fat and muscle of my upper thigh. When she was finally up and next to me, it was so playful! We hugged, almost kissed, nuzzled, pushed each other around. She smacked me a bit, grabbed my hair, pinched and pulled my nipples. Once she let herself down and then gently lowered me (still tied) onto my back on the cold cement, we kept playing a little - partial lifts with the harnesses, yanking on them across sensitive skin, breast and thigh slaps, having her sit on me and pinch and bite, using the rings to hold herself up and step on me with her stilettos (scary! not sure how I feel about that one - fun, but high risk for accident). I cuddled up around her on the ground, and the whole thing was just lovely. I still wish it was more than it was, emotionally, but for what it is, it's pretty fantastic - we have a good chemistry together. When I got upright I discovered that the entire room was staring at us :p
So it was a great night! And I didn't know what to tell GF. She's asked about it. I told her a little, not at all about the rope scene, and when she asked to know more about the emotion changes I thanked her for opening that as a possibility, but I know it hurt when I said I didn't want to tell her. At this point I know we're breaking up. I'd like to tell her in person. But that's still 2 weeks away, and in the meantime I'm pushing her away emotionally, which doesn't feel fair.
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