Steven pointed out that I'm basically two people. He called them my Public and Private selves (although I tend to think of them as "me" and "that little girl deep down"). Steven is absolutely right, but I had assumed everyone has public and private selves, although the split may not be quite so large with others. But, given that Steven thought it noteworthy to point out my split, it is possible that I am unusual in how utterly bifurcated I am.
Public me is pretty darn competent, maneuvers the world well and can handle most anything. I do what I set my mind to and accomplish a lot. I'm grateful to feminism for opening doors and I walk through them gracefully. Set me down just about anywhere in the world, and as long as I have a Lonely Planet, I'll be fine. (OK, not Baghdad, and I wouldn't want to be a woman, traveling alone in Saudi Arabia, but that isn't a question of competence.) Whatever the world throws my way, I'll deal. I can take care of myself and have some pretty impressive accomplishments on my resume. While I'm not as successful as I had originally hoped, I made a series of compromises on my career that have left me much happier and I have few regrets (aside from my current procrastination & perfectionism that has paralyzed one element of my career for about 7 years now).
I'm strong. I don't need help. I'm generous--and I'm there for people when they need them. I'm smart. And I love fabulous conversations. I get excited by them. Any man that would hope to woo me would have to start with my brain. That is inevitable.
Sex with public woman is boring. Very egalitarian. You stroke my back and I'll stroke yours. I'll analyze intellectually what the other person would like, but I don't even know how to enjoy myself erotically when I'm in that realm. There is no fire there. And frankly, public woman isn't very interested in sex.
Meanwhile, deep under all that, there is this little girl (that Steven called the private me). She always seems younger to me--maybe 15 or something--and innocent. Not that she hasn't had sex, but that she believes the best in people--it wouldn't occur to her that people aren't honorable and decent. And she is vulnerable. She greatly appreciates assistance, because she knows the world can just be a little overwhelming at times. She is uncertain. Loves it when people are generous, loves to be cherished, and even petted. (When I'm freaked out or overwhelmed, a man rubbing my cheek is just about the most wonderful thing in the world.)
Private gal is a 'girlie girl' that missed the women's rights movement. She doesn't do or accomplish; she just is, and that's enough because she doesn't have much to prove.
Sex with private gal is absolutely magical (when it is good). She trusts, she is led, she yearns and she is filled. She is absolutely insatiable.
Ultimately, private girl and public woman want the same thing from the same person: to be loved for who we both are, as we are. Not to dazzle anyone--just for him to enjoy public gal and to see private gal, and have them both be OK. Steven said he could only have fallen in love with private gal (he gave me permission to post his letter, if I wanted to, so an excerpt seems appropriate): "Although I enjoy the public woman, I really only can respect her and superficially enjoy her. It’s really only the private woman who I can love. It’s only the private woman who I safely can be intimate with; to whom I safely can disclose my own vulnerabilities, my own fears, my own shortcomings. My heart draws her to me and me to her. I want to hold her and I want to be held by her. I want to trust her and I treasure her trust in me. I can be absolutely real with her and adore her own realness. I can love her strengths and, also, her vulnerabilities. I can wash away her insecurities and her longings and she can wash away mine. Making love with that private woman is what making love ought to be about." I couldn't ask for anything more.
Both Steven & John might point out that I do a damn good job hiding private gal. I think that is a result of the strong criticism from my dad, and also his attempts to practice therapy on me. I shut down because any vulnerability was pounced upon as a pretense to 'process' all the things I didn't care to process. I had no privacy without hiding my vulnerability. It may also be linked to a long period of time when men didn't find me attractive, so I just froze that part of myself.
With regular people, there might be a brief flash, but public woman is simultaneously very protective of private gal, and also embarrassed by her. She knows private gal wouldn't make it alone in the world. Too many mean people, thoughtless people, evil people. Private gal has enough of a hard time accepting kind people who respect her, but can't make life work with her. Steven saw her, completely. John saw snippets of her. My ex saw very brief snippets of her, but not nearly as much. To subject private gal to the world with no defense mechanisms would just be cruel. And frankly, having her rejected would hurt much, much, much more than having public woman rejected. And yet, Steven pointed out, this blog is private gal. For some reason or other, I can come on-line and let complete strangers see my inner-most vulnerabilities.
I (is that the public I? The private? Both? Who knows?) hope to find a way to be less bifurcated, but I don't know how. To a great extent, D/s is about someone stripping down public woman to get to private gal, and then taking damn good care of private gal. The construct includes an implicit pledge to demand the submissive's vulnerability and simultaneous to protect the person surrendering. The blog also lets private gal out, in a safe, controlled way. John and Steven are the only beings on the planet that know who the author of this is, and I trust you both completely. The rest of you (if anyone else actually reads this thing) you have no idea who I am. And there is safety in anonymity. Private gal can come play, a little (ideas to me are play--writing is play--I don't 'play' in the D/s sense), and public woman can realize there is strength in vulnerability, or at least in learning who you really are, owning it and being at peace with the world.
Maybe, someday, I'll find a way to take Steven's advice: "You know, if I could “fix” you, Constance, I’d do it in my blunt fashion: I’d tell you to “Cut the crap!”
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