Suitors and Safewords [Part 1]
Things seem to have found themselves becoming far more serious and real at a much faster pace than I had ever expected. I suppose, for a woman who has lived all of her life in the world of vanilla where a certain structure of familiarity and dating find themselves the norm and status quo, to be thrust into the fast and fluid world of kink, BDSM, and all that follows with it is a wholly new experience – I dipped my toes into a creek and found myself drawn in to the undercurrent and coursed away by a swiftly flowing river, and I, unable to fight against the only pace it has ever known. I feel as though I am suddenly less human, and more a character in some strange and twisted short fiction when I consider all that is happening in my life and at such a rapid pace.
I was one of those girls who, in high school, couldn’t get a boy to notice her if her life depended on it; suddenly, the opposite seems true.
It was announced a short while ago that I am now under consideration as a possible secondary so far as Mephestus and Cherub are concerned – a development I’d hardly known as existing, let alone being a possibility, though one I am taking into deep consideration as both pros and cons abound and in so being so wrought with the curse of seeing all sides, my decision may take some time.
In the end I’ve up and decided to hold o9ff for the time being, perhaps even for the next few months. At the moment, I feel the three of us, Mephestus especially, are caught in a phase easily enough summed up by the phrase, ‘ooh, shiny’, and in so being, decisions made now would be rash and rushed. Once all is said and done, once the novelty has worn off, and we all know each other better, we may, God forbid, decide it simply won’t work. I’m logical to a fault, I suppose. I ought to live in the moment, say yes, and be done with it, and yet I’m settled here saying no, let the novelty wear off, then decide.
Then again, ‘logical to a fault’ says the woman who is now fighting off the pain of having Mephestus’ brand a solid three-inches across upon her hip. In my defense, there’s no friendships or romances riding on a temporary brand.
I also had a coworker and close friend, an older gentleman, profess his attraction to me – the second, now, over twice my age to announce an interest in me, and still I’m unsure of where I stand on this issue, especially as he is nearly thrice my age, and not at all involved in the kink scene. I will admit, I had seen this particular announcement coming, as it had been hinted at on prior outings, yet still I find myself taken aback to the positive and affirmative answer to my, then teasing, query of, “Oh, you’ve got a crush on me?”
This issue in particular has settled in the niggling little corner of my mind for a time. I’ll admit that I’ve always had an attraction to older men, and have always had a certain connection with my elders that vastly superseded that of my connection to my peers, and I’ve far to many less-than-savoury graphic novels upon my shelf that involve just that: romances between young adults and those in their middle-age or older; it’s a theme that has invaded much of the fiction I’ve written and yet when presented with the opportunity, twice over might I add, I’ve become hesitant to pursue, though I am unsure as to why. There are, of course, reasons of logic, and of practicality: should I pursue such a thing and should it hold fast, by the time I am at my ‘sexual peak’, as they say, T would be well into retirement, and L would be, dare I say it, well into a nursing home. There are also issues of societal norms: after all, walking arm-in-arm with a man twice my age would assuredly garner looks, though I’m sure that I can scarce use that as an excuse as I am used to the odd looks I receive when I walk about in my corsets.
Furthermore, I’ve found myself involved in a terribly nasty break-up. I cannot say I’ve ever been involved in something quite like this – that is to say, a ‘break-up’ with a man I have yet to meet face-to-face for reasons that boil down to you know my ex. I find it both cute and confusing being on the receiving end of such a clearly emotional epoch as, to be honest, though I thought from what chatter had passed between the two of us that he was quite endearing, I’d scarcely felt such a strong emotional connection to he as he seems to have for me. I’m not normally one to laugh at others, but I find myself unable to control my amusement at his obvious distress.
Love, in short, is a messy and sordid affair, and I’m beginning to remember why I enjoyed being single, vanilla, and reclusive: it’s far less effort and confusion. I will admit, though: this has its perks.
On the topic of safewords:
I’ve found myself becoming more comfortable with them though it’s certainly proved an interesting battle. I’m quite a passive person so far as the enjoyment of others is concerned. I’ll quite happily allow myself out of my comfort zone if I know another is gaining enjoyment from some arbitrary form of abuse of my person. I’ll admit, I’m quite easily used and abused in my daily life, and enough people seem to have picked up on this little fact and made a damn fine use of it. To some degree, it’s a part of who I am, though a part I’ll admit I’m ashamed of – rarely will I deny another of something, and if I do, I devolve into Fluttershy, and begin stammering and stumbling over my own words.
Yep, that looks about right.
It’s a fatal flaw, though one I’m working on overcoming, and it seems as though things are becoming easier and easier.
Garters and Gags 