Yay! I have a present on the way!
It’s ridiculous that this means so much to me but it does, and whatever.
Last night I talked with p. for the first time since C.’s bad news changed all my plans, again. Since part of my plan to head northeast included being in his city for an extended amount of time so we could pursue things on a more normal basis, and now I won’t be doing that for a while, it was bad news for him too.
Frankly I expected him to disappear for a while as he is wont to do at such times. But instead we had one of the best conversations ever; he’s learning that he can be my friend as well as my bitch, finally. And to make me smile (and show me he took my threat to take on one of the other two cucks I am talking to now instead of him seriously) he sent me a Realdoe, which I’ve been asking for since Christmas. I’ve decided I don’t looove how I look in my harness, nor do I enjoy the ten minute mood-killer break I have to take to get into it. I’ve been waiting to buy a Feeldoe until they came in a realistic color- just my preference; but I’ve already decided if I like it, I’m getting the black ’stout’ as well. So, for once, p. did good.
It should be no big thing to send me gifts. But my recalcitrant slut is soooo nervous about his conservative image that he didn’t pick up a package from me last year fearing it held evidence of his kinky desires; but all it held was an antique medical book as a gift for finishing his residency. So it was a big step… I never thought I’d be in a place where a dildo represented a large step in my most important relationship…but here we are.
I’ll be visiting him soon, so a toy review will be forthcoming, too. I can’t wait to use it on him.
Lunches with the exes
The last few weeks have been soo … emotionally dramatic. I keep trying to blog about them and ending up with these long messes that don’t even make sense to me. I’ve done a lot of personal introspection and that’s too hard to blog about for now, I’m still distilling. And of course, as always happens when I try and move on, purge and renew, some of my exes made appearances.
When things ended/but didn’t end with p., I was planning a final trip to see him before he moved to MA. We’d been talking about it on and off for a long time. He’d promised specifically, not to cancell last minute, or make up excuses; just to let things happen. I had arranged my daughter’s yearly visit with her grandparents to coincide with the two weeks before he moved. He knew, within a few day period with allowances for his work time, when I was arriving- I chose not to share my specific arrival because of his past cancellations …always the night before I was to come. I made the mistake of talking to him online within that time period and he went from being so excited he couldn’t contain himself to using the safewords I’d given him to totally end the relationship in about 3 minutes. (of course the next week he was back apologizing, rinse, repeat)
Yes. I have spent yet another of my yearly breaks at home. Instead of doing what I’d planned to do with and to p.. But this post isn’t about him, since I’m not posting about him anymore (right- you are welcome to all roll your eyes at this point). The explanation was just necessary to set up why and how that led to boredom and something bad…. A moment of weakness.
For those of you who may remember I started my foot fetish work and immediately got a request for an appointment from L.; who then didn’t stop emailing me until I had to say something nasty to him. He later replied that he totally understood and apologized. You may also remember that he had a bracelet I’d left with him in a previous moment of weakness a few years ago, when I realized what a bad idea it had been and tried to sneak out while he was asleep. It was from my grandmother’s estate and he knew this; but didn’t know it had never been worn and had spent 40 years in a closet- it had no real value, sentimental or otherwise. We’d gotten into a nasty fight not long after that unsuccessful sneaking out, and I’d told him to keep it in an effort to make a clean break. Being very sentimental, he wouldn’t let it die and kept using it as a means to keep contact with me until I’d been successful in losing his efforts to find me. Until, that is, the foot fetish site. Anyway. Back to the moment of weakness. I emailed him to see if he wanted to go to lunch. I’d been introspective and hoped he had reached a stable enough mental point that I could ask him some questions, seek some closure for myself. I wanted to get back the bracelet and remove any further reason to keep contact with me. And if I am honest with myself, was really really horny AND wanted to tie him up tight and enjoy myself with him one last time before asking him those questions. I know. Bad idea.
He accepted my invitation as quickly as I knew he would. He told me he’d just been laid off again (had lost his job not long after we broke up), and was still fighting his depression and anxiety, starting a new medication that weekend. I decided to assess the situation over lunch before involving ropes…I’d already offered and had it accepted. I wore strappy sandals and his favorite color of polish, but tried to not dress up too much- just a white summer skirt and tee-shirt. We met and it was clear he’d been crying. Hugged and …whew. That was hard for both of us. We spent almost five hours sitting there catching up, flirting and making our old private jokes like it hadn’t been four years, but tiptoeing around it. Bittersweet. His hands shook, and there were moments I thought he might break down…and we weren’t talking about anything too deep. I’d mention my daughter or his favorite cat, and he’d tear up. It was sad and hard to watch. It was clear he wasn’t ready for my questions. To hear them or to answer them. By the time I decided that, he had mentioned my shoes and polish a few times. I mentioned that we’d been there a bit long and said we should go somewhere else; he said he had to go feed an out of town friend’s animals. Puhleease. He went for an opening just as he walked me to the car. I got in and he held the door open. He mentioned the shoes again and then asked if I was wearing panties. I responded by telling him he might find out but then there were those poor unfed pets. His posture changed, he patted me on the back goodbye, and shut the door. Whew. Crisis averted. Oh yeah, I did get my bracelet.
Back when sparky and I ended things, I realized I’d left my favorite silver hoops on his headboard and emailed him a few days after that last dinner to ask him about them. He had them but was leaving for vacation; asked me to lunch when he returned. We finally made plans earlier this week for lunch yesterday. I told him to call me Thursday to set a time. He did and talked to me for an hour and twenty minutes. I did a lot of the talking but he actually asked me questions. This is something he didn’t do much of when we were dating. We got into a discussion about chastity and he got all hot and bothered. I knew because his voice changes and he gets all breathy when he has a hard on. Before going to bed later Thursday night I checked my profile for the maid position to reply to some responders, and saw that sparky had been by my profile. Hrrmm. We met at a closeby mexican restaurant; I had been stuck in traffic so he was there ahead of me. And had obviously seated himself so that I could face the door- he does read this blog. He had also taken the liberty of ordering me tea. I don’t really like restaurant tea, but it was a very nice gesture. We had a nice lunch, caught up on things. It seemed like he wanted to say or ask something but was having a hard time doing so. We were talking about one of my brothers, the golden child; whose super power is luck and who is also a bit holier than thou. I told sparky that when he gets too big for his britches I just ‘accidentally’ send him a link to thinks like penis sounds. That led to sparky telling me more about his kind experiences and feelings about it than I could get out of him in nine months of having him in my bed. I’m beginning to think it’s this restaurant- it’s the same one he brought his CBT to to have me lock him up at. After about two hours I had to be rather direct about ending the lunch and told him I’d meet him outside, where I had one of his sweatshirts in my car. He went to the men’s room, I sat on the bench outside for a smoke and picked up the Chronicle for a quick read of the letters to the editor. He snuck up and sat down close next to me looking like he was about to spit it out.
“Yes?” I turned to him.
He stomped his foot slightly and pursed his lips. “It was nice talking with you last night”
And then he quickly kissed me on the lips. I told him that I agreed and he could call anytime he felt like it. It was nice. Just nice. I walked him to my car to get his shirt, we joked a bit about him wearing it in the 100 degree heat, he said it again.
“It was really nice having lunch with you”
“Yes. We can do it again.”
Another kiss. I told him goodbye and drove off.
So um. Yeah. That’s my tale of luches with the exes. One moment of weakness averted, one revealed.
(I will try and be nice and go through and cross link all the old posts this one refers to sometime soon for you newer readers- but you can always use the search function at the bottom of the page.)
an uneventful ending
“This is not how I planned the evening to go”
sparky said awkardly
I don’t remember what I said. I was thinking about the $250 worth of toys I just ordered and wishing for a teleporation device so neither of us had to bear the 20 minute drive home.
Lately things with sparky and I have been even more un-sparky than before. In part because I’ve had some serious stomach issues each time we’ve gone out/spent the evening together; more likely than not my body telling me it was time for things to end. In part because we’ve only had one evening a week or less together for months; no time to get comfortable or do more than cursory catching up. In larger part because we both knew things weren’t going anywhere.
I’d been thinking about my involvement with sparky already. I knew that if we were to continue, I would need to engage in much more BDSM with him, begin actual training, and set some boundaries and rules for the relationship. No, I hadn’t done this yet; sparky kept his level of interest in various play fairly secret and expressed his personal independence up front, and a desire to be only a submissive boyfriend. And in the nine months we’ve seen each other never really did open up to me emotionally; I saw no need to begin pushing boundaries when we couldn’t even communicate about basics, much less what the boundaries were. And of course, the matter of p. fell into the mix. We’ve not talked for some time…he’s moving far away shortly and doing his best to get me out of his mind. I’m unable to afford to visit Dallas; my vehicle is in poor shape. And I’ve pretty much issued the ultimatum that when he is ready he will come to me. And he will, eventually. Neither of us can really enter the kind of relationship we want with each other, right now, regardless of my relationship status with sparky.
So I had resolved to reframe my relationship with sparky, who had at least revealed an interest in cuckoldry and more formal D/s arrangements than the casual dating with some kink play that had evolved with us. My plan was to offer him a chance to explore cuckoldry as less of a romantic arrangement than we’d originally embarked upon and more as a sub in training. Having finally found the strap-on harness I wanted, I set aside my original plan to save up for it and purchased it last week, hoping for a weekend arrival to surprise sparky with. While shopping for the tool to go in it, I found an amazing sale and for the price of a dong elsewhere, purchased a whole 5 lb. box worth of sex and kink toys.
We each had a busy week. I’d planned to talk with him about it last weekend when I stayed over at his place; but had serious stomach cramps and ended up curled in the fetal position, clammy and groaning most of the night. This week we only had Thursday to spend together between kid and business obligations, and had planned early in the week to go to a monthly downtown event ‘First Thursdays’- an artsy, walk around and look at expensive stuff you can’t buy, and drink free beer while listening to live music sort of affair. Wednesday, sparky told me he’d be working until 6, so I could expect him around 6:30. By the time 6:30 arrived Thursday the wind was gusting up to 40 mph; and I had decided it wasn’t the best venue for the night or for discussing my plans. I had (I mentioned earlier) purchased new cock collars of the sort that work with my short lead, and had also purchased charms for them; sparky had gotten all breathy and hot when I’d told him about donning his member with a silver, heavy charm with my initial on it, so I had one ready to go on my dressing table. My plan was to have him come to my bedroom before we went out, have him strip and kneel to hear my change of venue plans and why, and put him in the leather chastity belt and the red cock collar with my initial before heading out.
6:30 came and went…I wasn’t too upset because with Austin traffic one has to be lenient, I knew he’d be there in the next 15 minutes and had told him once before that “give or take 15 minutes” was an appropriate window for arriving. By 7pm I WAS upset; particularly when he called at 7:07 to say he was just leaving the office….his voice told me he knew. This isn’t like him, sparky always calls on time and if he’s going to be late, and I had a feeling something was up. When he arrived he was more nervous and distracted than usual; I had him pour me some wine and come upstairs. His demeanor was different and I sensed that it wasn’t the time for my plan; he mentioned the wind and I told him I’d rather not go to the outdoor event. He sat on the bed and sheepishly told me he was going to have to leave town with his kid the next morning and would have to go home and pack rather than stay over. No explanation of his late arrival. It was already almost 8pm. No chastity devices or long night of ‘re-framing’. We opted for a nearby restaurant and a low key evening.
Dinner was nice and we talked about you know, just things; work and future plans and the kids. I ordered desert. When I said he seemed particularly distracted and stressed, he confirmed that he was; with lots of business changes and family matters going on, I knew his mind had been a million different places lately. I asked him if I’d given him the impression that I didn’t care if he was on time in his plans with me; and he said no but then gave a terrible excuse when I asked why he was so late that evening. Then he reached out and grabbed my hand and made a grimmace. sparky hasn’t been very affectionate with me, he doesn’t touch me uninvited…and I wasn’t sure which way this was going to go.
“Another thing is … I’ve been reading your blog, you know. I know what’s been going on and what you’ve been thinking about”
Awkward silence. I knew he knew, he knew I knew he knew.
“and I’ve been thinking a lot about how neither of us seem to be finding that um….connection”
He’d let go of my hands and was now half fidgeting, half gesturing, looking down, stammering. I probably let him go on a little long but I was hoping for a complete sentence and fully formed thought that would tell me what he was trying to say.
“So what I hear you saying is that you think we should stop seeing each other.”
I replied calmly.
sparky looked a little…I don’t know. Surprised? Maybe disappointed? Anyway, I don’t think that was the reaction he expected.
“Well, maybe just re-evaluate things”
The desert arrived. Really yummy looking bread pudding. I love bread pudding. I wanted immediately to be home in my jammies curled up in bed eating that bread pudding.
No, I told him, I thought he was right. Neither of us were feeling a real connection and we both deserve that. We’ve given it more than a fair shot and it’s better to end things on a good note, now; than let it drag on and end poorly. I’m not sure he looked me in the eye after that. He started to assure me that I had been clear up front about p., and it wasn’t that- which he repeated several times; that I was an amazing woman and he still wanted to be friends. I did my best to not cringe and roll my eyes. It’s true, I would like to remain friends with sparky; he’s very nice and we get along. It just….would have been better to not say. The foot fetish work was never brought up but I suspect it had a role in bringing things to an anti-climactic head.
He drove me home and I remembered I had the keys to his CBT lock. I’m pretty sure he wanted to just drop me at the curb, I know I’d have preferred that too. The hand off was awkward, and we sealed things with a hug.
I think it was the most unemotional, uneventful, spark-less breakup I’ve ever had. Now that I think about it, also the most unemotional, uneventful, spark-less relationship I’ve ever had.
That’s not terrible. I think both sparky and I needed someone to spend time with helping each other ‘get back on the bike’ so to speak. I enjoyed our dates. The sex was nice. And so was the hitting him with things. But I’m glad for both of us that it’s time to move on….I really miss passion, I’m sure he did too….we both deserve to have it and shouldn’t keep each other from that.
And, there’s nothing like a shipment of five pounds worth of toys arriving (and the resulting debit from my bank account), to motivate me to update that dating profile and look into some quick car repairs…
Someone’s in trouble now…
A certain disobedient sub has been begging to be locked into chastity for over a year now and then coming up with every excuse he can think of to avoid it when I bring it up. Being a surgeon, he has some good reasons, tough ones to overcome…MRI machines and whatnot. We’d thought about the disploseable locks, but I don’t trust him to keep them on hundreds of miles from my reach. I’ve had reservations about locking him up for all kinds of reasons; but my patience has run out and my sadistic streak has won over. When p. and I met his behavior wasn’t immediately obvious. I didn’t want to enter into such an arrangement without knowing him better. I also didn’t (don’t) think long term enforced chastity is healthy for an individual or a couple; and with our distance issues soon growing even wider, I advocated waiting until (if) we had a more reliable relationship.
Now I frankly don’t care. And I’ve spent several months tracking down a sturdy lock that should do the trick. A lab safety supply company I located offers a non-conductive, non-sparking, non-magnetic safety lock made specifically for locking up items in a hospital where a metal lock might interfere with equipment. We wouldn’t want p.’s patients sufffering just because he needs his weiner locked up. The entire lock body, hasp included, is polycarbonate. Only the tumblers are brass. It comes with a numbered safety key which cannot be removed while the hasp is open. The hasp is definitely too large for a CBT’s lock hole, so I still have that part to work out.
What really made my day when it arrived, however, were the included write-on stickers in English, French, and Spanish for each side of the lock : “Property Of:________” and “Danger. Locked Out. Do not Remove”.
I’m going to test it in some metal detectors by putting it in my purse and going through; but the sales lady assures me it is safe for use near MRI equipment. Now, I wait for the right time. When I plan to utilize my lock is going to be a surprise to p.; he knows it’s coming and knows that until then, he can back out with a simple word. After that, backing out will be much more difficult, thanks to my new little friend.
Sometime soon I’ll post more about where things are with p. and my plans for him; but not today. Suffice to say I’ve decided I deserve both p. AND sparky, and am enjoying keeping them both, each for their own special qualities. Obligations keep p. and I from being what we want to be to each other for now; but we are making slow progress. I am making some lifestyle changes that will help soon too. And in the meantime, sparky is a good companion and I should probably buy him a special lock of his own too.
Just the way it is. Performed by Ms. R and her backup singers, the Vainglorious Exes.
“it’s just the way it is”…
When p. said this a week or so ago, it really pissed me off. Really. And it really worked on me for several days, but I couldn’t pinpoint why. Or, more accurately, I couldn’t, or didn’t want to, remember why. While trying to stay physically busy and mentally distracted, somewhere between vaccuming and finding a well hidden php parse error for a client, a little recurring memory in the back of my head set itself free and wafted through my thoughts:
that’s just the way it is”
…echoed through my head in a cacophony of several voices from the past that I have worked hard to forget.
And suddenly I knew, remembered what “that’s just the way it is” stands for. Again.
I sat, a little woozy from the sudden rush of memories and voices and mental images. Working backwards, I recognized L.’s voice immediately, the man with whom I had my last long term, and cuckolding relationship. Telling me on my 30th birthday that it didn’t matter that he finally -after years- could tell me he loved me, or that my daughter had grown so attatched to him, or that we worked so perfectly together both in and out of bed. It took weeks of fighting to get him to admit the reason. Which was, that I was, and in his eyes always would be, an escort. As he’d suggested when I hit a rough financial spot, and helped me become; and that this ultimately meant that he couldn’t commit to me. I made the biggest gesture to him I could think of, ‘retiring’ publicly and replacing my website with a message to my clients about why, and a personal message to L. expressing my wish to do whatever it took. In the end, it was still ‘just the way it is’.
Harmonizing above L.’s deep voice was K.’s. He was an awkward Canadian salesman I dated for a couple of years during one of my ‘off’ stints with L.; and lucky to have me. He had initially met me as an escorting client who reached out to me personally when my daughter was injured; but when it finally came down to brass tacks, he made no bones about not committing, at all, because of how we met. “That’s just the way it is…” – I do recall those words fitting into what I wish had been our final conversation. He showed up 9 months later in legal trouble, hoping to save his visa status with a marriage proposal, possibly the only one I may ever recieve. Made in the car as I drove him to pick up his car post jail stay. I never wanted ejector seats in my car quite so badly as I did at that exact moment. What a cherished memory. That’s just the way it is.
There were a few chorus boys, minor flings that could have been much more, singing along in the background a refrain of “just the way it is..is..is”. None of them left enough of an impression to remember the circumstances, but the phrase stood out. And the reasoning behind it was all the same.
Then my first real love, S. broke through in a clear solo, reminding me that I wasn’t really the ‘resume’ wife he needed for his military intelligence followed by medical career. Despite the years I’d spent putting him through school, the support through military basic and tech school and an overseas station during which his non-custodial daughter was severely abused by her stepfather and there were all manner of legal proceedings and difficulties to manage stateside, and during a trip I’d made to help him prepare for another overseas deployment. “That’s just the way it is”. He did say it. Followed by a dear jane letter a few months later, telling me the woman he’d itnroduced me to so I’d have someone to run errands with on base during my visit (another deployed soldier’s soon to be ex wife) was now his wife, and never to contact him again. And he repeated the refrain as if it was some sort of justification or explanation.
There are other times men in my life have used the phrase, too; which is why I’m surprised it took me a week to recall the real meaning. I can remember my father, a military officer and non-custodial parent most of my life, explaining to me glibly why I only heard from him once a year or so with the useless euphemism. Or my daughter’s father, explaining to at age 18 to 15 year old me why he couldn’t be bothered to help me figure out what to do about my unexpected pregancy, or a decade ago why he’d left the country to reside where his child support couldn’t be legally collected and would always drive nice cars, dress well, and live grandly, no matter what I thought C. needed from him. That’s just the way it is. It’s a more comfortable way for those with an emotional bunker mentality to say “I’m going to think of myself first”, and by “myself” I mean the reality of the vainglorious hauteur, not the high-brow noblesse that people like this have become in their own heads.
I don’t like to let these people enjoy their comfortable little lie to themselves. I usually find a way to extract a confirmation of the real reason, in one way or another. This time, it was a brief email message to p. Friday morning; composed like a mirror so that how he responded, or didn’t, would make the truth an unavoidable elephant in the room. No response. It’s early yet to ‘call’ it (not really, but work with me), but I’m pretty sure I know now why it is just the way it is.