…when we met today.
You know, just in case He wanted to release me.
He wasn’t pleased, exactly (though not mad, He doesn’t get mad with me, ever), at my painting him in such a negative light yesterday. He did, in fact, tell me I had to admit that I was 100% wrong in my assessment of him. I laughed a bit, he laughed a bit, but also that steely look of his that just makes me melt inside. And I knew again how it was that I loved this man. We talked for an hour over lunch about the stuff that connects us…about our families, and funny anecdotes, and happy things.
But after lunch we did really talk seriously about our issue.
I know that he feels the need as keenly as I do; this whole “no time to be together” issue is what we’re trying to iron out. He’s working a ton, I’m working a ton…and neither of us us happy about so much time without seeing one another.
It helped to be able to write it out–my unhappy feelings, my unmet needs–and then send the blog post to him. He could see where I was, that it wasn’t some amorphous “girl feeling”, but a real, keenly felt lack.
We’re still trying to figure out a way to make more time for one another. It doesn’t help that we’re 40 miles apart (which isn’t like everyone who does the LDR life and is hundreds of miles distant, I know). But we’re both on the same page.
As we wound down, I told him that I’d brought my collar, in case He’d wanted it back.
“I had a feeling about that,” he said, but he didn’t want it back, and it’s still in my possession, which means that I’m still in HIS possession.
And yes, I’m happier. I’m glad, recharged, for the time we spent. For hearing more about his physical health, a major player in our lack of playtime. He was in an accident and while he wasn’t seriously injured, it did cause some damage that he’s been slowly recovering from.
But in this casual, almost offhand, this oh-so-natural way, he says, “When we get together for playtime I’m going to beat the shit out of you, and I need to be closer to 100% for that or else I won’t be able to lift my arm and pick my nose, and you know what a problem that could be.”
Just that…turned me into a wet puddle of slut.
I didn’t tell him, mind you. But I felt it, that shivery thing that he does to me. It puts me on alert and wakes my senses. It says “warning, danger ahead”…and that just makes me throb. It let me know that this…this Dom “thing”…it’s not a “thing” at all…it’s part of who he is, right down in his DNA. It’s not a garment that he puts on or takes off, it’s part and parcel of him. He wasn’t playing a game, he was just informing me. It wasn’t a prepared speech, it just came out naturally.
It makes me hot and wet just writing it again.
I still have my Dom. I still have my collar. I still have scheduling issues.
I know that HE cares about this as much as I do. That his silliness on the phone or texting is just part of Him, his smartassyness factor. (something else that’s hardwired in his DNA…!).
We’re good. We’re going to be okay. And we need each other (it’s not just me being needy and that’s such a good thing to know.)
Thanks for all the kind and caring words, all the hugs and encouragement. It was great to have the support of this community of pervie peeps. We are not alone. I am not alone. You are not alone. We are weird. We are wackjobs. And we’re horny as fuck.
And we’re all okay.