The Unconvincing PSA

I've always known his kinks run a lot deeper than mine… but he's a patient man. 

He wants me willing and eager, so he’s quite conscious of the pace at which he leads me. He watches me carefully, gauges my responses, and moves us ahead accordingly. 

It’s all very well-considered and deliberate, no "kid in a candy store" approach for him.

Rather, he keeps his eye on the prize and works steadily toward it.

However…

Having said that, he’s not the kind of man to look a gift horse in the mouth, either. 

Even the smallest indication of interest is noted and evaluated.

So…

Remember that night of viewing porn?

Well, apparently my video of choice caused a green light to go off in the dominant head. 

Ladies and gentlemen, The Sadist Has Entered The Candy Store.

And holy cow, has it been a wild ride! 

Not that we had never indulged in tit-slapping before - we had... but talk about your "kicking things up a notch"! We have definitely taken things to a whole new level since that night. 

In fact, I kind of feel like I’m living my own personal version of "The Scarlet Pimpernel"… 

“He slaps them here, he slaps them there, that sadist slaps them everywhere…”

So, I originally intended this to be a cautionary tale about sharing fantasies… 

But truth to tell, I think I'm grinning too idiotically to carry it off convincingly!

Maybe I'll just recommend a good movie, instead. ;-p

Richard E. Grant, my favorite Pimpernel

In Which I Go Dutch

Someone sent me an early birthday present and, in my delight, I promised a picture of me wearing my lovely new jewelry… but I’m so pleased, I want to show it off to everyone! 

            So, here I am!

Bitch With a Pearl Earring

(yes, there’s a matching one on the other side)

Aren’t they lovely??

;-D

(with apologies to newer readers, who may not quite get the whole joke...)

Once More Unto the Breach

It's sort of an exercise in futility, my gardening.

Every year, I start off with great hopes and vivid imaginings of the glory that will be my yard in a couple of months… and generally, I end in disappointment.

Yet somehow, this doesn't stop me. The heirloom plant sale I attend every year has come and gone -- and even tho' I'm cutting down on my gardening this season, that somehow still doesn't translate to "I'm not getting anything this year, thanks!"

My mind cannot let go of the vision...

I didn't go too exotic this time, however. Mostly I stocked up on the cutting flowers I love so much. Snapdragons and zinnia for the flower beds; geraniums for the porch; ice plants and portulaca for the dry corners; rosemary and basil for the herb garden; and a couple (just a couple!) tomatoes.

So today is for planting. The mowing is all done, the last of the hedge and bush trimming has been wrapped up, and the burgeoning poison ivy has been sprayed. The gardens are prepped; crocuses, daffs, and tulips are all cut back, and the vegetable garden has been weeded and turned.

Let the fantasy begin!

What are your favorite things to plant? Or admire, if you garden not…?

Dinner Conversation

The food was served and the position assumed.

"mmmMmmm…!"

       "Was that for me or the asparagus?"

 "Both!" 

       (said the owner of the hand that pushed my head back down again)

"mmmMmmmpf…" 

       (said the girl sous la table)

The Great Unknown

A few years back, I read a post (sorry! forgot where) by a submissive who said that her relationship had taught her to accept that she’s not special. She wasn’t glum or disheartened-sounding about the thought, simply matter of fact, seemingly content with the whole conclusion.

But I will freely admit that *I* was saddened upon reading that sentiment. 

Because I firmly believe that a person should be able to feel special within their relationship - to feel enjoyed, appreciated, and of infinite interest to their partner.

So I was also a little annoyed at her for giving in so easily.

And yet…

        that’s the point on which I myself am least likely to be convinced.

Maybe I've just had too many people tell me they think I'm wonderful - as they ride off into the sunset, but I'm a really hard sell on this... and I haven't figured out why.

What would it take for a guy to convince me he considers me special?

       Words?

       Actions?

       Sincerity?

       The secret password?

       A Tom Mix decoder ring?

I just don't know.

But maybe it's not them, maybe it's me...

Maybe I'm too arrogant...

       ("No, no, that praise is not nearly fulsome enough!")

   maybe I have delusions of grandeur…

       ("ignorance more frequently begets confidence than does knowledge"?) 

   maybe I need to learn a new definition of "special"…

       (hmmm... "see "adequate"…")

   or maybe I simply need to rethink my standards?

       ("Why, yes! I AM breathing!")

(Did I mention I just don't know?)

Maybe that blogger was right and I should just get on board with not being special. 

Maybe I should just go mow my lawn now…

Meanwhile, in a corner of Jz's mind...

I love this. ;-D

In Which I Am Flabbergasted

After the last bout of discussions with BG over his wish for an MFF, I once again turned to SP and poured out my concerns. (Really, one day that man is just going to tell me to grow a pair, and hang up on my email in disgust…) 

His response (since that day has not yet arrived, however) really brought me up short.

He wrote that, were it him, he would not choose to ask me for a ménage (altho' he's a fan himself) because he knows my gut reaction to the proposition is too far removed from the excitement he’d want to elicit. So he considers the idea off the table.

BUT… (and here’s where it gets interesting) that choice isn't based on any disappointment in me, or because he is caving… Rather, he says it’s because he knows that if we proceeded, he would never be able to assure me of his unshakable primary connection with me - which he would experience as a personal defeat. And so, “selfishly”, he would prefer not to go there - for himself.

wait …

       … … …

    What…?!?

You mean the onus isn't entirely upon me?

     hmmmm…

I'm gonna have to think about this one...

Earworm Thursday

Possibly the greatest opening lines in any song, ever.

Yes, it's old, but, please give it a try!

She's worth it, honest.

Kaffeeklatsch

I noticed the other day that there's a site out there called Submissive Coffee Club. I haven't really checked it out, but it seems to be a place where you can find writing prompts. 

(Always a handy thing.)

The mere sight of the name was prompt enough for me, however, because it reminded me that Bleuame (private blog at the moment, so no link) had thrown out some questions to the blogosphere at large, and I had intended to answer this one… but never got around to it.
Until now.

Who in Blogland would you like to have coffee with and why?

Now, this is not an exhaustive list.

For one thing, you must bear in mind that I am NOT one of those warm and fuzzy people who just loves everyone immediately. I need to read your words, mull over your thoughts, and generally warm up to you before I take such a dramatic step as having coffee with you. (Just imagine how I fare with online dating...)
So my choices come from the people I already know and actually have contact with. 

By next year, of course, the list will hopefully have grown. :-)

Nor am I including the bloggers with whom I have already had coffee.

        And food.

        And sometimes even hugs.

Because they already know I would sip coffee beside them -- I have proven this.

Of the rest, however: (and in no particular order)

lil - Because she truly gets coffee…

Also because we need to hammer out an agreement over who gets permanent custody of that rock we keep borrowing from each other to crawl under…

lil and I have a similar enough sense of humor that I'm pretty sure we would be vastly entertained (and somewhat dangerous) together.
Most likely to a degree that would make others nervous.

Which, frankly, would probably just egg us on.  ;-)

I have to adapt the rules a little to spend time with the whirlwind that is Hedone and meet her over a meal. Because I happen to know that she will actually sit down for a minute if there's food and drink involved, making that the only way we're ever likely to meet in person. We will giggle very hard, until it's time for her to go dance somewhere - at which point she will cha-cha away, and I will pull out my book and finish my dessert at leisure. :-p

selkie - Her cybervoice voice has been silent for a few years now but selkie is the first blogger I ever contacted, and still ranks as "The Blogger Most Likely To Agree With Me" (which, of course, I find charming!) We have much in common, not least of which is that we are the founding members of KAIOS. (Kick Ass, Independent, Opinionated Subs) 

Plus, holy crap, can that woman write! 

I will not, however, be going bike riding with her anytime soon -- she knows why. ;-p

little monkey (linkless because she's another a private blog) is also on the list. Except I think that instead of coffee, I want to have a fig jam making session with her. We will laugh and make a mess and just generally have a grand ol' time. (With a portion of the handiwork coming home with me as a souvenir, of course!) 

and mouse. Because… mouse.

I don't believe further explanation is required. :-D

All of these people can be found in my blogroll, so hopefully, you're already acquainted with their writing. But if you're not, please pay them a visit! 

The Curse of The Lower Brain

When you’re thinking of embarking on a “do-over” in a relationship, one of the first things you have to determine is if you can let go of the injuries of the past. Because if the attempt is going to work, you must dig deep and allow yourselves a clean slate.

This I have done, with a willing heart.

But letting go isn’t the same thing as “forgetting”, is it?

And just as the body has muscle memory, emotions have learned responses based on memories, as well … and those don’t retrain quite so easily.

I'm finding that things crop up which, in the past, would inevitably herald a forthcoming disappointment and annoyance for me. Now, in the nine months that our rapprochement has been in place, not once have those same words or situations led to any kind of distress… 

Yet every single time, they still catapult me into a defensive space, braced against disappointment and mentally rehearsing how I will express my unhappiness to him.

Every. 

Single.

Time.

And that makes me absolutely crazy.

Both because it puts me through the emotional wringer, but also, how unfair is that to him? Imagine how that would feel, to always be having the past thrown in your face...

Luckily, I have sufficient higher brain control that I am able to override my knee-jerk limbic system pretty quickly…, so that part’s good. But irks me nonetheless that I still have not been able to shake that initial, immediate reaction of preemptive ire.

Like any struggle in life, it just takes time, I know. 

Nothing can be done about this other than to carry on with what I’m doing… to give myself a good talking to and sit tight until it becomes clear that I am a nitwit. And I’m sure the sensitivity will eventually decrease to the point where I’ll be able to pink-slip the inner cop.

But man, I wish we could speed the process up…!

Shape Shifting

I had a very disappointing realization the other day…

It turns out that when you view ARB in feed readers, they may omit a lot of my very deliberate formatting of text. (Not to mention a surprising number of the pictures.) 

So the words may be all there, but the look may be all wrong.

And frankly, that bothers me.

I remember when I discovered the poetry of e.e. cummings… 

It was the first time I was really challenged by the written word, with his awkward punctuation, shards of syllables, and lurching line breaks.

It took a long time before I was able to appreciate the format intellectually, but on a visceral level, I got it right away. I realized that although these seeming discordances made the reading harder, they turned the structure itself into an integral part of the poem. 

The shape of the text affected the experience of reading.

It slowed you down, made you think, and reinforced the tone of the poem. 

The very complexity of the appearance wrangled the work into a visual representation of how the impact of language extends much farther than mere words.

And ever since, I’ve added shape and appearance to the list of “things I play with in writing.” (Right up there with idiom, colloquialisms, and vernacular.) For play with language, I do. That word-snobbery I have been accused of really isn’t so much a love of excessive syllables or erudition as it is a dislike of allowing something so vital and dynamic and fun as language get flattened into a simple linear plodding of text.

It seems to me we should be able to do so much better.

I suppose the crux of my disappointment is that, though I'm certainly no Cummings, like him, I relish "such minutiae as commas and small i’s,in which…my [originality] thrives."

Unless, of course, it's viewed through a reader…

An Alternate POV

The views expressed in the above ecard are solely those of its creator 

and do not represent or reflect the opinions of this blog author.

They did, however, make her laugh sufficiently hard that she posted them anyhow!  :-D