Yesterday turned into a very interesting time of stimulating conversation, first with a singer I teach (also a friend) and later with P. Each drew me out of the swampy mass of emotion which seems to be my dwelling-place these days and it was very good indeed to put my feet on drier land for once. Since this is a blog primarily about sex not singing, though they are equally honest pursuits, I’ll talk about the evening.
I did wear the nylons – under tight jeans and my long boots, which I always wear for confidence and walked up the road to the pub. I realised as I got there that I hate going into pubs on my own at the best of times but right now, it seemed almost impossible. But I did, wrapping around me the blanket my online dom had notionally given me for protection as he went back to his vanilla world. I bought a large glass of red wine and stood waiting and watching the Friday night meet-ups and collective sighs of release from the work-a-day week. P turned up rather breathless and apologetic though he was only a little late, and with some internal amusement I treated it like the beginning of a singing lesson when I often have to allow time for someone to “arrive” in the room. You can’t sing if you are not in your body. It struck me again how very considerate all the doms are I’ve met over the years. It seems they are almost too sensitive to be in the world without the counter-balancing sexual desire to control – enjoy some power. Hardly Fifty Shades of Grey, from what I hear.
We didn’t find a seat, though there was one, but P thought it was taken, displaying another common trait I find in doms, lack of worldly confidence. So we stood and I launched into a discussion of D/s, whilst enjoying his presence and those piercing blue eyes. We first met 3 years ago. It was a crazy week when I was at the height of my “playing” and had been with 4 men already. Reckless but fun. I gave them all the perfect premise on which to punish me. “You are such a naughty girl for allowing a strange man into your flat in the middle of the night” – swish, crack! They were right really, I wouldn’t be driven to it by my desires these days. But I don’t regret it either. I trust the way people write. If they can express themselves with sophistication, good spelling and grammar, there isn’t much to be afraid of I find.
As the evening wore on, P reminded me of that time before T, when sex was for playing. He is polyamorous, sincerely so. It’s not an excuse to rush around having sex, he loves his play partners – and has kept a tenuous connection to me over months and months, so I guess he is at least interested and fond of me too. It’s the glasses partly. He loves women who wear glasses. Lovely for me. He is a self-confessed misanthrope (though I don’t believe it) and lives in highly impatient tension with the modern world, the chattering, vacuous media, and the hordes of people rushing pointlessly around jabbering (his words). He loves to spend life painting in his studio, domming girls and engaging in good conversation (and food). A modern day twist on epicurianism that I like very much. I’m a mirror image – though my art is different.
We left the noisy pub with relief after one drink and walked back to my flat, the drinks are cheaper here and I wanted to find out if anything was going to happen. I mean from my side. He was obviously up for it, but only if I was. Again, that considerateness – the delicious, paradoxial position of “I will only take your pants down and ruthlessly punish your bottom and humiliate you if that’s ok with you”! It wasn’t. But not in a bad way. I got to see the flash of his “dom look” which I love and felt it was only right to show him I was wearing the tights he asked for. But other than that, it felt too risky emotionally in my present state.
No, what I got out of it was hearing about what happens in all those clubs and dungeons around London, from someone who is honest and is able to navigate what I would find scary and distasteful to witness. I can’t imagine enjoying public displays of humiliation and beatings – especially, as he said, because some people are clearly going through it when they don’t want to. You can get easily hurt if you don’t know yourself.
And what about “neediness” P? I asked. Where do you take your vulnerable self? He admitted, as I thought he would, that he deals with that side of himself on his own, and has no patience with needy subs. Counts me out then. But of course, there is the paradox of knowing about a side of oneself and honestly speaking about it which renders it almost attractive so he wasn’t put off me.
There is something that doesn’t match up here. P loves a brat, he says, and we all know bratty, demanding behaviour comes from neediness, unless it’s an act. So I concluded the women in his life are holding something emotionally for him. They have to express the “neediness” of both parties in their submission and then let him walk away. This was confirmed by him talking about his primary girlfriend who feels compelled to tell him all her sexual adventures whilst he is a little bored by them, and doesn’t feel the need to reciprocate. Poor her.
There might be some fun mind games in future with P, but I’m not really interested in someone who can’t express the whole of themselves. It gets so wearing doing it for them.