Posts tagged ‘love’

On Choices…. like which fork to use

You know, I have a choice. I would say most people don’t. Maybe even 90% of the population doesn’t. Then again maybe I don’t either I just haven’t realized it.

The gay community says sexuality is not a choice and I gather most of the straight community would say the same thing with the exception of a handful of right wing types. Most people don’t feel drawn to both sexes but some of us are very much at home with either. The gay community will tell you that bisexuality doesn’t exist that it is only something you pass through regardless of the direction in which you are going.   But I don’t agree. I think many people have the ability to eroticize either sex. But I don’t think people are talking about sexuality. I think they are talking about (what I call) affection-ality.

Let’s face it. For almost all of us sex it a manifestation of a desire to be closer to someone, to express affection, it is an act between two people who are emotionally bonded. Yes there are those who can and do have sex recreationally (your’s truly included) but even for those individuals recreational sex does not take the place of a physical expression of bonded emotional intimacy….and that is affection-ality. Affection-ality is also who we feel most fulfilled with emotionally. Affection-ality is not a matter of choice my opinion we love who we love. End of story.

But are affection and sex irrevocably tied? Can you want to make a life with someone you feel no sexual affinity for? Is that the choice? And if it is, is it truly a viable choice or only an illusion of choice?

I feel everything I should feel for my husband EXCEPT any physical desire. I would even go so far as to say that my response to the thought of being sexually  intimate with him borders on repulsion. It has for a while actually…. as in years. But nonetheless I find that is where I want to be, with my husband.

But when I wonder if it’s a choice I know it’s not. I know the desire is not there and has not been there for a long time. I know I would have a very hard time “performing”, although once upon a time I enjoyed our sex life. I also am coming to believe that I am more at home emotionally and feel more sexually fulfilled with my girl friend.  Yet I can’t shake this feeling that home and hearth are with my husband.

I CAN choose to go home to him. I CAN choose to commit to creating a life with him. But for the life of me I can’t make that pesky sexual square peg fit in the round hole of our relationship. That simply is not a choice. 

Filling the Hole

When last we saw our heroine….

She was waiting to see if her lesbian crush from college is willing to take a chance with a twice committed woman.

What can I say….I can be very persuasive.  😀

The truth is that the distance and scheduling will make this at best an occasional thing and hopefully discourage a huge attachment. Now… of course me being me (and M being M) we will (and do already) care for one another.  How couldn’t we? The friendship was right there where we left off. It was easy to be with her, talk and share with her. Touching her was far far too easy!…and lovely. But there are miles and hours between us and a full knowledge of what we face.

She asked me a very relevant question. Why do I need so many people in my life? While I didn’t go looking for “so many people” she is right.  I told her what I believe to be the truth because; I have this big hole in my heart that I can’t ever quite seem to get filled up with love. A big hole left by a father who walked out of my life at 12 and the emotionally inaccessible alcoholic mother who raised me. It is left by a brother who ditched when he was 18 (and I was 11).   It’s left from growing up in an environment where what little emotional security was the gift of my amazing godmother. Just too much rejection, too many holes, too much second guessing that I am lovable and worth while. Bear used to tell me that I was a leaky tea cup and that no matter how much love he poured in I would always run dry and always need more. He was right.

So here I am a middle aged woman who finally understands herself, who finally can see her behavior for what it is… and who is at peace with it. For now I am lucky enough to have a husband, a Daddy and a sweetheart who all care for me very much in their own particular ways.

Chapters

I suppose its time for me to move on. Maybe I too should accept the closure I have given her. Maybe I too should close the chapter in the book that is my life with their name on it. 

I suddenly struck me. I may never be in his home again.  Then again I’m not sure it matters, the room I have such vivid memories of him in has been redone. It’s still a shock when I walk into it. If I move on now that is much less that will be written over of him. I can still see him in the room, the dark green walls behind him. The last time I saw him was in that room…well, actually it was on his front stoop as he saw me out. But the three of us had been hanging out in that hunter green room that they both hated so much. I can remember his going to put his arm around her. She subtly shifted away from his touch. Just as she always did.
Maybe it’s time for me to take my memories and run.
I feel no guilt, no regret. When he turned his twinkling blue eyes upon me that first time I was a dried up husk of a woman, done with birthing, child rearing and all those things women are good for, forgotten by her husband. He shone upon me (how did he make those eye twinkle on command!?) and I came alive. He touched me and my blood flowed once again. He gave me permission to be me and showed me that I was lovable for who I am… not for what I try to make myself into for others. No it was far from a perfect relationship. We were probably toxic in the long run. I was never secure, for I don’t know what reason. We bickered constantly. But we did fill each other with life again. 
He once wrote me: 
what did I do before we met?  with whom did I share all this energy
all this passion…all this heat?

truth is…noone,  it stood dormant hibernating until it felt the
warming rays of your smile, the light within you made this happen.

I simply can’t imagine going back to that time….

I could have written this for I felt the same. So perhaps it is time for me to take my memories, our memories, stash them away and close that chapter.
If only I could put to rest the fear of loosing those memories. She talks about him and he is alive, she shared bits and pieces of her memories with me and it only served to reinforce mine.  Her love for him, kept my love for him company, even if she never knew it. 

Everyday

Everyday I feel safer with him. Every day I feel more loved by him. Not a day seems to go by anymore in which at some point his regard and caring for me are not manifest. Not a day goes by anymore in which I don’t love him just a little bit more.

In my last post I shared how he has left me in A’s care while he is away and that I am excited about it. She is too and there is most definitely a budding Domme in my friend. A Domme who it looks like will get to cut her teeth on my flesh….mmmm. And like I said I trust them both. I know he wouldn’t leave me in the care of someone who was irresponsible or did not care for me. But that does not mean I have been without concerns.

My biggest concern has been how this has the capacity to change all three relationships… four relationships, really. There are the three individual relationships but then there is the relationship shared by all three of us. I’ve worried that she is really unaware of the strength of what she’s about to experience if it really clicks for her and I think it will. I think she is unprepared for the emotional impact of fullilling one’s internal dynamic needs. And I think she is unprepared for what it could do to she and I.

I’m assuming it is the same for Dom(me)s as submissives. I know when I first “went there”, the very first time I consciously and purposefully embraced my submission it was like being clobbered over the head. It was where I wanted to be, it was where I needed to be…and I had this overwhelming feeling of wanting to stay there. I’ve watched what it doest to a relationship as well. It can create one hell of a bond and it certainly has the ability to facilitate romantic feelings. Although, we are not romantic partners though I will admit to being sweet on her and I think it’s mutual.

Now I’m not really being “gloom and doom” as Maitre would call it but you have to stop and wonder… who will she be? How will she be? When we get to the end of our 11 days. I wonder what I would have been like if I had been able to indulge my submission at will so much when I first really felt it course through my veins. I don’t think it will be negative, not at all. I do think it will be powerful.

I really don’t know how it may or may not change these relationships. But what I do know? Is that he has thought about this, considered it, spoken to both of us about it individually. What I do know is that and what he has shown me again today…is that he loves me and I am safe with him.

Missing

He hasn’t even left and I miss him already.

He leaves Wednesday for eleven days. I was suppose to see him today but out of all the days we’ve had in the past eight years it has to snow yesterday. We don’t get much snow “in these parts”… as a result businesses and schools were closed and so our plans completely FUCKED! What about tomorrow you say? BIG BIG maybe. I’ll hope but I won’t count on it. Why set myself up for disappointment.

He’s left me in A’s care. Who is A you ask and why have I been left in her care? 

A is a very dear friend of mine. I believe I’m mentioned the potential for her to join our play before. No? Well she finally did and it turns out little Miss Vanilla… isn’t so vanilla. She’s got budding Domme in her. So he is leaving me in her care. He’s given her directions and three tasks but beyond that I am hers for the eleven days. 

This should be interesting no?  I am definitely looking forward to this. I wonder what he has up his sleeve and what he’s put up hers and why.  I wonder if there is a rhyme or reason to his tasks? Lessons for me to learn or experiences to bring out her fledgling Domme. Or maybe they were just chosen for his pleasure alone in knowing what is going on.

BUT while I am looking forward to it she’s just not him. It’s not that I don’t love her. I do! I trust her and love her completely. And I trust him and love him completely. I know he would not give her a task that was beyond her at the moment. I know he would not put me in danger or put our friendship in danger. But she’s just not him.

Ok, I know that sounds really simplistic and fundemental…. that’s because it is.

I love my Daddy, my Maitre, my friend, my lover… I love his voice, his hand around my throat, his sweet caress of my cheek. I love his lap. I love my hand lost in his. I love the soft sounds of his accent. I love his bald head…especially with a day or two’s worth of growth on it.

I’m looking forward to what he wants of she and I? But I hate that he is going away.

Love After Love

Love After Love  

The time will come 
when, with elation 
you will greet yourself arriving 
at your own door, in your own mirror 
and each will smile at the other’s welcome, 

and say, sit here. Eat. 
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart 
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you 

all your life, whom you ignored 
for another, who knows you by heart. 
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf, 

the photographs, the desperate notes, 
peel your own image from the mirror. 
Sit. Feast on your life. 

 -Derek Walcott

 

This is the second time this poem has entered into my life unbidden. The first time was after the others death. I am certain the individual who sent it to me was trying to encourage me to re-embrace myself. I am sure she thought that our love had resulted in my having lost track of myself, as women often will in the head long plunge into love, when love becomes all consuming, passionate, obsessive.  But I hadn’t lost track of myself at all. Quite the opposite happened. I just hadn’t seen it. So when this poem first appeared in my life I missed its message. My vision was clouded by grief.

Today when it appeared and I read it again I knew what it was saying to me. I have actually been thinking this same thing for some months now. I have once again become the person I once was. I am even more so that person than I was at the beginning. I am stronger and more confident now.  Age has granted me the distance from which not to care what others think (this is not the same as not caring about how they feel mind you). This is inpart his gift, it is very much his gift…too bad I had to lose him to find it.

But now I see it and now I can embrace that very same feeling toward another. We are who we are, we are how we are, love me for all of me, so that I may love you for all of you. All of you is safe with all of me. I sing with pain and I sing with pleasure, I weep with the rapture of giving and the ecstasy of being taken.

There is nothing wrong with me. There is everything right about me, for me. The difference now? I see her, I love her, I want her. I have found the key to being her. I have found her the love she deserves.

Luck and Power

I read the post of a sister submissive today. It made me very sad. I worry for her a great deal. 

This post also served to reaffirm how lucky I am to have Maitre. He has done nothing but treat me with respect and kindness from the first. He treats me with love and caring making the wellbeing of his Bella his priority. Yes, he is my Dominant and yes, he is a sadist. Not to worry those elements are imbedded in that respect, kindness and love I talk of.  His cruelty is a kindness. His passion for my pain a manifestation of his love for me. I am his lady and his whore, his brat and clay to mold. By loving and accepting all of me respects me. 

How could one not wish to yield to such a man? How could I resist any desire of his? Our circumstances sometime frustrate me. I long to give all of myself to him but your lives make this impossible. 

I have a secret. Sometimes I sit and think what it might be like if I were free to give myself to him without limitations on us and truly no limits on me. I wonder what it might be like to sink to my knees at his feet, staying there in my heart until he is done with me.  I can see it…it’s dark outside the windows, I am naked, knees under me, forehead pressed to the floor as he stands above me… am I cold? Perhaps. Am I tired? I might very well be. Do parts of me burn from ministrations’? Most definitely. But still I am his.   

Daddy, do you know how much your quiet and steady respect and nurturing, coupled with the hunger of the beast within you, has grown me? You have taken a grieving widow, a woman whose trust was tentative at best, and a young girl who is still at times small and frightened and helped her to grow and feel strong. In this strength she can do what she longs to do… yield. I am yours not because you how have cowed me, deceived me or hurt me. I am yours because I am stronger than I was when we met and in that strength is the ability to let go, to become powerless.