Love is wonderful, yes, but sometimes it gets in the way of new things. Learning to love means learning to feel it thoroughly, even after a breakup.
So this weekend was date #2 with C. We had a date earlier this week, which ended up in some semi-drunk (for me) sexy times, a very short night’s sleep (for him) and some nice moments to remember.
So when I went to the second date, I had some expectations. (Expectations are bad.) At least that I would be present, that I would enjoy the time spent with him, and that we’d connect again like we did not too long ago.
Except, well, sometimes love can crap all over you and get in the way.
We’d barely started playing after a drink and some rope practice, and I find myself elsewhere, wishing it was E. playing with me, wishing it was him kissing me and telling me to turn around, to raise my ass to take more of the flogger.
So I stop everything a few minutes in, because I can’t. I just can’t. I’d been feeling not too bad since the breakup, but somehow the shadow of our bond came back to haunt me, stronger than it had for quite a while. Stronger than I could handle.
I stopped it, and told him why, and he took it like a gentleman. It’s not fair to him that I’m not in the present moment enjoying his play and his presence. It’s not fair to him that I would pretend otherwise just to get my play fix. It’s not fair to him that I would use him while wanting to be with another. So yeah.
I asked him to leave my apartment, because I wanted to be alone.
This decision to stop was actually hard to make. On the one hand, I was getting what I wanted: attention, pain, sexy times. On the other hand, I couldn’t just pretend that I wasn’t upset or completely into what he was doing to me.
But the most difficult thing to overcome was the programming that we get as women: “once you get a guy started, you can’t stop it. He might hurt you/rape you/kill you. So let him finish.”
How many guys did I let “finish” because I was afraid of the consequences? How many people did I sleep with that I didn’t want to sleep with once it got started? These thoughts crept in my mind uninvited, but they’d always been there, at the back of every sexual encounter I’ve ever had. It takes strength to overcome this, and I’m kinda glad (despite the guilt) that I found it in myself to say no.
But back to how love can crap all over you.
I like C. I really do. He’s a wonderful man who is respectful and a wonderful player. He’s one of the good ones. But, as a new friend shared with me, a D/s bond is not easily broken. Love is only such a tiny part of it that it’s hard to explain to people who’ve never been in a D/s relationship.
I have made my decision to stay away from E. for the time being, and I will stand by it. But I wasn’t expecting such a strong aftermath. After all, I’ve been having good times with S. for a few months now, and the shadow of E. never appeared with him. What is different now?
Maybe what was happening with C. was getting too close to what I had with E. Maybe public play with him was fine, because it’s public play, but private play is out of bounds for now. Maybe they’re too much alike, and my brain just craved the one I know while rejecting the one I don’t.
My bond with E. has survived the past six months… with some help. Now it’s being tested on its own, without the benefit of intimacy to strengthen it. It will remain, or it will die. And I don’t know which one it is, and maybe that’s the beauty of love: you never know. It forces you to remain vulnerable and open to the possibilities of change, to life’s many twisting roads.
But for now love is crapping all over my ability to establish another D/s bond. Maybe it’s for the best. Only time will tell whether it’s to mourn or to wait.
I’m not ready for anything more than playful topping, I think. I’m not ready for new pet names and new protocols. I’m not ready for another mind to enter mine, to see it and understand it so thoroughly as E. did. I need to disentangle the threads, to pry the tendrils of his wonderful, loving cruelty away from my masochistic and submissive sides.
I’m not ready to call someone else “Sir”, because for now I’m still his little girl.