So once again, I am restocking the toy box.
Every serious breakup, things get tossed; then we reconcile; BG says, “I can’t believe you threw that out!”; and we start anew. You’d think I would learn…
(In my own defense, I really thought this last one was IT.)
Despite the monetary outlay, however, I can’t regret Operation Clean Sweep, because it has opened up a number of conversations we might never have had otherwise.
Generally, I don’t offer an opinion on our toys unless asked. If I really hate something, if it seems to run the risk of causing me actual harm, sure, I’ll pipe up then. But if something simply isn’t my cup of tea? I just hide it at the bottom of the toybox and hope he forgets we own it. Because, let’s face it, “I don’t really like that” is a loaded statement in the world of the submissive. (Can you say, “fraught with risk”?)
For one thing, why lead with your chin? Odds are extremely good that your dominant’s first reaction to learning that you’re not fond of a toy is likely to be something along the lines of, “And this matters to me WHY, again?” (A response I accept... but would still prefer not to have bandied about any more than necessary.)
Additionally, unless you’ve made something a hard limit, there is also the very real likelihood that saying, “I don’t care for that” is going to shoot “that” directly to the top of his Must Use Immediately and Often list. (Raise your hand if this sounds familiar…) Sometimes, discretion really is the better part of valor.
Plus, there's also that thorny issue of perceived credibility.
It can be difficult to sound convincing about your indifference to a thing when he knows darned well you were thrashing, gasping, and generally having a grand ol’ time last time he used it. The problem is that, well, anything wielded by the domly hand stands a darned good chance of success... the hand itself is just too compelling. However, the fact that he can mind-fuck me past my disinterest in a particular toy does not negate the fact that I still don’t care for it. (*Insert emphatic nod here*)
When there’s been a year-long hiatus from a given device, however, “I threw it out because I never used it unless you told me to (and you were gone, btw)” elicits a more thoughtful response. Yes, I still got the anticipated, “What do you mean, you didn’t like that? You always came gangbusters when I used it on you” protest, but the proof was in the pudding (or, more accurately, the trash) and pragmatism stepped in and took over:
“OK, we need to replace that, [for these reasons] but it’s silly to get something that you’ll never use yourself. Let’s look for something that satisfies my criteria AND that you’ll like for solo sessions.”
So we sat there and discussed the details of what he was looking for; what had gone wrong for me with Version 1; and what factors were of supreme indifference to both of us.
Alrighty, then!
Armed with a clearer understanding of the desired end
and a wider range of options than on previous expeditions, I fired up the laptop and commenced with the shopping. A few sites and a couple of clarifications later, Ladies and Gentleman, We Have A Winner!
“Proceed To Checkout…”
Naturally, with all this excitement, build-up, and anticipation, the fool thing then took an ungodly long time to arrive. I was fielding daily texts: “Anything?” “Package?” “So…?”
But finally, the big day arrived.
“It’s here, it’s here!!”
Unsurprisingly, I was promptly informed that I was forbidden to actually use it.
“You may clean it and put batteries in it, but first time play time belongs to me. Period.”
The part that was surprising was that the directions didn’t stop there.
But I think I’m going to save that story for next time…
