incongruity

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He said we needed to talk about her so I prepared myself for a potentially uncomfortable conversation.  “I’m falling for her,” he said. “I haven’t felt a spark like this with anyone in a long time.” He went on to say that eventually he might need to make some “adjustments” to build a foundation of trust with her. It felt like a slap in the face.  The first I had heard of her was the previous day when he told me that she had shamed him about his proclivities after she finally chose to face the full reality of his life, which included me.

He told me that he had never allowed himself to go past a certain point with me given the physical distance between us.  He stated many times that he had no interest in a long distance relationship and so we agreed not to call it that.  Had his emotional cutoff become so rigid that it was irreversible, irreparable?  Had the multitude of sparks between us already become irrelevant to him?

Yet he reiterated that no one knows him like I do, he has been able to be completely himself and vulnerable with me without fear of shame or judgment and not once had he felt the need to compromise himself with me. He said that the communication between us is better than any he has had with anyone in his life, ever. Yet for all his reassurances that nothing would change between us I could not shake the sinking sensation that his devaluation of me had already begun and the eventual discard could be imminent. The slap in the face began to feel like a punch in the gut. I believe that he believes every word he has said to me; I don’t think he is malicious or intentionally dishonest.  However, in the midst of our many conversations about openness and transparency he had neglected to tell me about his woman, who had been a presence in his life for as long as I have known him.  I felt blindsided by his revelation so I curled into myself, desperate to protect the soft underbelly of intimacy and vulnerability that I had so willingly exposed to him. I immediately began to question everything.

HesseQuote

Had I foolishly misinterpreted his feelings and intentions?  He said I was equally to blame for not communicating my goals and expectations. In the days that followed I maniacally dissected my part in this situation.  Perhaps my mistake was assuming I understood my ranking in his hierarchy.  Perhaps I assumed I understood his feelings and intentions based on his actions.  A week prior he had given me a beautiful necklace that seemed to symbolize our connection and then a key to his apartment.  He had involved me in the life of his child. We were planning a trip together to a kink event in my hometown using shared travel accounts; suddenly that felt like a Very.Bad.Idea.

If I had unspoken expectations they were based on our history together and our established Daddy/babygirl relationship dynamic.  If I were to verbalize those expectations they might include the hope that my “Daddy” would want to know where I live, visit me there, meet my dogs, feel enthusiastic about dating me…in short, treat me like a cherished princess that he had promised to protect.  I never communicated those expectations because I blindly believed we had an understanding based on our extensive and near daily conversations.  We had discussed the concepts of polyamory, non-monogamy and BDSM relationship dynamics. In the very beginning we shared with each other that neither of us identified as polyamorous. However, we had explored the ideas of allowing one another the freedom to frolic in our respective fields of kink but coming “home” to each other; being a team; primary partners on this journey together, the idea that a partner should be one’s safe haven from the big, scary world out there.  But what to do when the big, scary world is right Here rather than out There. In the midst of navigating several difficult situations that have arisen in the short time since my move, I’m not sure I have the emotional fortitude to negotiate the intricacies that are inherent in an open relationship, or whatever it is that he and I share.

I understand that all things are subject to change and there are no guarantees in this life.  I never promised I would react in a predictable way to the introduction of new elements or partners. However, I trusted my intuition and the bond we had begun building in the preceding months.  I have never felt the need to define anything between us because I trusted that our connection surpassed labels. Instead I preferred to hold the space sacred and leave it roomy, not to keep him at a distance but to avoid enmeshment and suffocation.  Yet I made it clear from the beginning that I had no interest in ever being his secondary.  With potential play partners the delineation was clear. But this was different from discussions about play partners.  When he said “adjustments” the fearful part of me interpreted that based on the filters my experience has created.  Right or wrong, I heard that she is the Madonna and I am the Whore because nice” girls don’t do the things I do.  The adjustments are nearly always in favor of the Madonna in the hopes that the Whore will shift accordingly. From the core of my being I own this truth about myself: I am the Madonna AND the Whore. He once called me “The Holy Grail” and as such I refuse to be relegated to anyone’s Dirty Little Secret; a kinky fuck buddy, play partner and source of support and comfort thereby allowing him the space to properly woo the Madonna.  Perhaps I had chosen to remain blind to the changes that had already begun; subtle shifts in the way he related to me. Instead I chose to believe he was still adjusting to my physical presence. He no longer referred to me as “my queen,” or even “my babygirl,” at some point I had become simply “the baby.”

I am not implying that any of that is Real or True but rather my perception in response to a fear of the unknown.  The alarm bells of my history escalated into a cacophony of panic. I am not proud of my response; it is counter to everything I have worked to embody: leading with Love rather than Fear, remaining open-hearted, practicing kindness and compassion. But my fear of being discarded as the Whore in deference to the Madonna was powerful enough that I put myself on lockdown.  I withdrew in an effort to protect myself the only way I know how, just short of completely cutting and running.  The space between us feels cavernous.  I know I have hurt him by pushing him out of my life, I imagine he may even feel I am punishing him for his honesty. However, it is not an offensive but a defensive maneuver, an attempt to hide from all my feelings of bewilderment and folly.  Fear that everything we were building together was at worst a sham and at best a myth. Fear that I may appear to be a pathetic woman scorned and then ashamed for caring what others might think about me.  Even as I write this I feel foolish about wearing my heart on my sleeve, foolish about exposing my vulnerability and fragility, foolish about the mistakes I have made, foolish about my reaction.

Overall he and I have been kind to each other and we rarely fight.  Perhaps due to his own experiences and resultant filters he interprets that comfort and safety between us along with the lack of drama as something missing, such as a spark. He teases me about my incessant need to make sense of everything, to find an explanation.  My confusion has been gnawing at my mind relentlessly but ultimately this is not for me to understand.  It is not my job to take his inventory or to figure him out.  That is his job and his alone. I can only take my own inventory and hold myself accountable for my part as I continue to sort out precisely what that is. Perhaps I did withhold my feelings and expectations and perhaps I grossly overreacted. But I’m not sure I would have or could have done anything differently than I have. I know two things with absolute certainty: change is inevitable and timing is everything. No matter what conclusions I eventually arrive at I must be sure to honor my truth and in turn honor his, because that is the only way I know how to live and remain at peace with myself.​

 

 

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music for the full moon + anticipation

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My Moon My Man

My moon, my man
So changeable and
Such a loveable lamb to me
My care, my coat
Leave on a high note
There’s nowhere to go but on
Heart on my sleeve
Not where it should be
The song’s out of key again
My moon’s white face
What day and what phase
It’s the calendar page again
Take it slow
Take it easy on me
And shed some light
Shed some light on me please
Take it slow
And shed some light
Shed some light on me please
My moon and me
Not as good as we’ve been
It’s the dirtiest clean I know
My care, my coat
Leave on a high note
There’s nowhere to go
There’s nowhere to go
Take it slow
Take it easy on me
And shed some light
Shed some light on me please
Take it slow
And shed some light
Shed some light on me please
My moon my moon my man
My moon my moon my man
My moon my moon my man
My moon my moon my man

déjà vu

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He says he likes me…because I’m different from the rest.

He says he loves my words, loves my mind.
instant connection
effortless communication
minds and souls ablaze
twin-flames_ascending-hearts
Yet then, as if on cue, Fear steps in. Fear, the evil and corroding thread. “This short word somehow touches about every aspect of our lives…the fabric of our existence was shot through with it. It set in motion trains of circumstances which brought us misfortune we felt we didn’t deserve.”
fear of needs going unmet
fear of not being enough
fear of being too much

Suddenly, the tides turn and the energy shifts.
my differentness, no longer an asset
my toomuchness, now a liability
no longer becauseof, it becomes inspiteof

I have spent too much of my life hiding my light.
Feebly fumbling to be something or someone I’m not.
For him, for her, for them.
I don’t want hostages.
I don’t want to convince anyone to stay.
I want to desire and be desired.
because of who he is
because of who I am


something I can never have

Mickey: Let me tell you something, this is the 1990’s. Alright?
In this day and age, a man has to have choices.
A man has to have a little bit of variety.
Mallory: What are you talking about, variety? Hostages?
You want to fuck some other women, now?
Is that what you’re talking about, Mickey?
Why’d you pick me up? Why’d you take me out
of my fucking house and kill my parents with me?!
Ain’t you committed to me?! Where are we fucking going?!!
Mickey: Just relax, alright?  It’s me, your lover, not some
demon, not your father. Alright, relax.
Mallory: No, you’re not my fucking lover. You’re not my fucking-
You’ve been loving me?! You’ve been fucking loving me?! Huh?!
You’ve been loving me real…

I still recall the taste of your tears.
Echoing your voice just like the ringing in my ears.
My favorite dreams of you still wash ashore.
Scraping through my head ’till I don’t want to sleep anymore.

You make this all go away.
You make this all go away.
I’m down to just one thing.
And I’m starting to scare myself.
You make this all go away.
You make this all go away.
I just want something.
I just want something I can never have

You always were the one to show me how
Back then I couldn’t do the things that I can do now.
This thing is slowly taking me apart.
Grey would be the color if I had a heart.

Come on tell me

In this place it seems like such a shame.
Though it all looks different now,
I know it’s still the same
Everywhere I look you’re all I see.
Just a fading fucking reminder of who I used to be.

Come on tell me

I just want something I can never have

more musings of a hungry madwoman…

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Here is something I threw together on 8/31/15 as a follow-up to my previous post.  Now he asks, he asks, he asks…I want to tell him everything.

  • He’s a grown-ass man
  • He says “fuck yes” to me
  • He’s equal parts classy/dirty – knows when and how to be a gentleman and treat me like a lady and when and how to do everything else
  • He respects that my submission is an honor and a privilege and doesn’t ever take that for granted
  • He doesn’t intentionally withhold communication, attention or affection
  • He understands that the seduction of a woman begins with the brain, outside the bedroom and long before the sex act
  • He knows how to help me relax & quiet my mind
  • He can make me laugh
  • He is confident yet remains humble
  • He always respects my limits, he’s willing to negotiate & renegotiate
  • He knows that sometimes I will be pouty, needy and want him to baby me; he’s patient and giving
  • He respects that I have a life outside of BDSM, remains discreet and doesn’t leave visible marks
  • He is open to sharing some time together for “vanilla” dates
  • He always keeps me safe and protected
  • He takes care of me after intense scenes, both immediately and in the hours and days afterward
  • He is sweet yet firm, kind yet rough
  • He is a creative and imaginative lover
  • He lets me be me and keeps me on a long leash, knowing I will always respect and adhere to our established boundaries
  • He doesn’t break my spirit
  • He knows that within this partnership we can help each other grow and become better versions of ourselves