Equilibrium

Last week, I told Maxearnest that I wanted him to trust that he could push me.  I could be strong for him, and I wanted him to know I was strong enough to meet him.  I trust him to keep the equilibrium, and that is giving me a strength I haven’t had before as a submissive.  Evidently, he took me at my word.  He had me doing something a little more difficult on Skype today--well two difficult things.  One involved a little more pain, of a kind that makes me more numb than hungry. Maxearnest told me to get the devious little pain-inducer, and my head said “Please don’t make me do that!”  But I obeyed.  And then I hoped he just wanted to see that I’d obey, but not make me use it.  But he told me to use it.  My head said “I don’t want to do this! Please! Don’t make me do this!”  But another part of me just obeyed.  I didn't ask him to change his mind.  I didn’t even complain.  I didn’t really tell him how hard it was for me.  I just obeyed.  I think, however, if I hadn't been quite so rebellious in my head, it would have been a lot easier.  And he had me do something that took away a little dignity.   That happens.   I know it is part of the process, but it is something that I resist on some level. I do obey--I just wish I didn’t have to. When he was stripping away a little dignity, my head was saying “why do I have to do this?”  I kept doing what I was told, but I didn’t want to.  I didn’t want to.  I know that for all the talk of saying “I’m your slave,” I still have times I don’t feel like I want to obey.  (Yes, that’s a lot of the first-person subject pronoun for someone who is embracing the word ‘slave’ with a ‘master.’) I don’t think I've ever told Maxearnest no.  (I don't think I even ever told the ex no.  Actually, I did once.  The ex liked rough anal, and after he tore me, the doctor said no anal and the ex went to have anal again, I safeworded.  But then, it was like I was obeying the doctor--I wasn’t just not obeying someone.  I would like to think I could have told the ex no, but I never did.  Although, after we broke up and he tried to get me back, before we got together, I made it very clear I wouldn’t get together with the ex without some major changes.  That was the power-woman, protecting the young girl.  But once young girl appeared,  I didn’t have the strength, or the ability, or something, when I was with him to take care of myself.

I don’t know how to submit and to take care of myself.  With me, it’s all or nothing.

So it is damn good that Maxearnest cares, deeply, about taking care of me.  It isn’t an intellectual thing--it is far deeper than that.  When we finished the difficult things today, and I went back to my sofa (where he rarely pushes me--he pushes me more in the hall), Maxearnest realized I was having a hard time.  Sometimes, when I’m obeying, I just focus on obeying and it isn’t till it is done that I realize how hard something was for me.  It is like I can either obey or I can monitor what I’m feeling, but I can’t seem to do both.  When it was done today, Maxearnest wanted better light, which is actually really important, because he reads my face, and he reads it well,, but in trying to get better light, my foot got tangled in my Skype headset and I almost dropped my computer, and I was on the edge of tears.  Maxearnest still had my breasts hanging out as we cuddled, and I just felt all exposed and couldn’t get my equilibrium.  I asked him once if I could put my breasts back in, but he wanted them out.  They weren’t in the picture, but I really felt it.

Maxearnest feels remorse if he pushes me too hard, even if it is just for a moment.  I almost want to fake it when I’m having a hard time because it makes him so sad that I’m sad, and I feel like he is berating himself, even though that is just life--he has to push me to figure out the limits and sometimes for whatever reason, something will be pushed too far for a moment.  I don’t believe he would ever make me do something just because it was hot for him, if it was hurtful for me.  I hate thinking that my weakness causes him pain.  But there’s no way we could have the relationship we do if I lied to him with my face or tried to hide emotions from him.

 Finally, Maxearnest asked what I want, because he could pick up from my face that it was still hard for me.  All his kind words weren’t comforting me. When he asked what he could do to make me feel better, I asked again about my breasts and he said yes, if that’s what I wanted, and I started to recharge.  I think Maxearnest wants me to tell him if he’s given me contradictory orders (“Feel cuddled” and “show your breasts”) but I’m not very good at that.  I can’t seem to make the ‘feel good’ orders as important as the “do this” orders.  I told Maxearnesst that I didn’t think, if I’d already asked something, that I could ask a second time, so he said he would try to ask what I wanted when my mood was off.  I thought it was really lovely he both accepted my limitation and would do that.

The fact that I don’t do a good job of taking care of myself, is OK because he has accepted taking care of me as his responsibility.  And he takes it seriously.  It seems like a lot to put on someone, but I also know that I can’t actually submit and also take care of myself.  I did tell him I really hated what we did today, but I didn’t tell him at the time--I told him afterwards.  Maxearnest said we wouldn’t do it on Skype very often.  (When we’re together--it is different.  I can feel his hand.  I can cuddle against him.  He can kiss away my fears and I can hear his heart beat.)  But it surprised me he would say we wouldn’t do that often, because I do feel like it is his right to demand whatever he wants.  If  something is hot for him, I should be able to do it, regardless of the impact on me.  Honestly, I feel that he has the right to make me miserable if he wanted.

But one of the big reasons I’m with him is because he doesn’t want me to endure being miserable.  He wants me to be happy.  More than wants--it confirms his dominance that he sees me so joyous.  I don’t know how I got it in my bones that if I’ve given myself to a man, then I should endure whatever he wants, and the only decision I can make is ‘do I obey or do I leave forever.’  That’s kind of fucked up.  Really fucked up.  No wonder my power-woman has been so hyper-vigilant.

But Maxearnest is as committed to me being happy as I am to pleasing him.  (And really, I am far more committed to pleasing him than I am to obeying him.  I think that is why a command to ‘feel comforted’ is far easier to ignore than a command to display myself.  I don’t even realize I’m ignoring his command.  I don’t hear those orders the same way.  But, of course, it is always easier to make my body obey than my mind.)  We both please the other; we just do it in different ways.  But his commitment to take care of me makes everything else possible.

Of course, the question of why this all is necessary looms large.  What in me needs to submit to things that I don’t want to do?  Is it because it proves the dynamic?  Is it earning love?  Is it proving myself?  Or is it something about discarding obedience to my logical, linear mind and moving beyond a visceral understanding of the world?  I think they are intertwined in this braided rope that binds me.  My logical brain--is that the left brain or something else? Something more primal, something that taught my ancestors to take their hand away from the fire when it hurt-- that part of me still rebels.  But this other part, this part I can’t name, says “please Maxearnest.”  Use me.  Claim me.

Does breaking down my ego, my logical view of the world, which has many false, limiting worldviews, does breaking that down allow him to rebuild me, stronger, loved and loving, joyous and confident?  It seems odd. I’ve always hated the thought of anyone ‘breaking’ a person, but, on another level, my J.D. program really broke me down and then built me up in ways for which I remain grateful.

I can’t help but notice how the typical tropes of discipline and punish, of Foucalt and Sade, of Anne Rice and Molly Weatherfield and the martyrdom of Catholic saints, how they coalesce and make sense.  Have I embraced this narrative because of the patriarchal and capitalist hegemony that poisoned my mind with sexist images?  Or did those images of primal, animalistic mating exist before homo-sabiens, and am I lucky to have this key to unlock my desire?

I still remember my first kinky act with another human.  I was in college and there was a man I was flirting with (who, incidentally had the same first name as Maxearnest’s middle name).  I was ridiculously attracted to him, but found out he was married.  We stopped flirting, but after a year or two, he explained he was in an open relationship.  I considered it.  We flirted.  And one day, he came over to me and used his pencil as if it were an eyeliner.  And I let him.  Including under my eyes, which involved me trusting him enough to keep my eye open while he traced along the line between my eyelashes and my eyeball.  It was really my first act of submission in real life.  (For what it is worth, I chickened out and all that ever happened between us was an incredibly hot kiss.  I, correctly I believe, came to the conclusion that I wasn’t mature enough to handle an open relationship and I would be jealous.  But it was a decision that part of me always regretted)  But that act of trusting him enough to keep my eye open while he had me so vulnerable and took care of me stuck with me over the decades.

And here is Maxearnest.  Asking I trust him enough to keep my eyes open, and assiduously taking care.  He could demand more of me and I would acquiesce. But I wouldn’t be so joyous. He reads me enough to know how far he can push me and still have me be happy.  Occasionally, he’ll push a wee bit farther, and it will take me a little longer to find my equilibrium.  But I know he won’t push me farther than that.  And so, I say, Yes.  Thank you.  Yes to whatever Maxearnest wants, and thank you to a universe that sent him to find me.

The root of all evil

Maxearnest told me to buy several corsets.  The ones that I had were more like play corsets and aren't rigid enough to really constrict.  And on one level, I'm totally fine with it.  We talked about the ones he liked.  Then I went through and found ones I liked more.  I thought I sent it to him, but it ended up in my drafts folder, so then I thought he had just ignored what I sent.

We talked about it, and realized there was a mistake.  It was fine; he looked at the ones I liked and explained why they wouldn't work and I bought the ones he liked, plus one that I liked (with his approval).  But it was really, really hard for me!

His corsets were chosen very carefully, looking at what would flatter my figure and be quite, quite binding.  (He is looking at bringing my waist in 6 or 7 inches with these, which is, in theory, a little overwhelming.)  They are elegant, but they feel austere to me.  I ended up adding the ballet tutu I wanted when I was 8.  Why?  When on earth will I wear a ballet tutu?  It is ridiculous.  But I really, really wanted it.  (And it wasn't that much money--it is a much cheaper corset that won't go very tight, and probably won't look great because it is designed for a C cup or less and I have a D cup, whereas his choices should be more flattering.)  But his choices don't feel 'pretty' to me.  They are elegant, but not cute.  When my little girl side wants something, I do try and look at it.  (I have an envelope with $5 bills in it for my little-girl side to go shopping whenever she wants.   There is $100 and that seems like a promise that is important to that side of me, but somehow, I never actually go shopping.)  I would have liked things that were more romantic than sexy.  Bows and sequins and teddy bears.  (Maybe not all in one corset.)

But this entire thing was very hard for me!  It wasn't because these corsets are more austere--my flimsy corset that I already had was austere.  But I bought it on ebay for $30 maybe 8 years ago.  

Giving up control of money scared the heck out of me.  Even just a little bit.  It really does scare me.  My father always resented my mother for not making her own money and dammit, I make my own money and no man is going to resent me.  There are times I think my mom wanted out and couldn't because she didn't really have income.  The thought of actually being dependent is terrifying to me.  I loved how Maxearnest took care of me in Iceland.  He was gracious and protecting and took care of me.  But he shouldn't have to do that all the time.

Part of it is that I spent way too much money this year on remodeling a bathroom and installing a deck.  For the first time in a decade, I have no money in savings and I owe my parents seven grand.  (I have no credit card debt--I maxed out a credit card in college and it terrified me and I've always paid them off in full each month ever since, and I've paid off my college loans, so there is just my mortgage left.)   I am used to always having a little more in my bank than I think I do, and for the last 6 months, I always have a little less than I think.  And that really does scare me.  And my reaction to spend less money is a good one!  Absolutely!!  More Americans should say "I don't have enough money--why don't I stop buying stuff I don't need?!"

But that isn't the issue.  This wasn't that much money, and I can afford it.  There was something about giving up control of money that really did freak me out.  Maxearnest told me to buy something and I got out my credit card and bought it, without much say over it.  My power woman side has always been in control of money, and being good with money is a point of pride.  I live in a part of town where people with my salary can't normally live.  Because I'm good with money (and I love my neighborhood and house).  I can go see Maxearnest for a few months this summer because I can work from home during that time, because I am good with money and can go part time.  I have several friends that pressure me to spend money, and I'm always saying "I can't afford that."  I'm used to saying it. I don't spend a lot of money on clothes.  I'm quite generous on one level, but if a frugal sort of way. I avoid splurges.

But here's the thing.  Maxearnest is creating an absolutely dynamite sex life for both of us.  Just because he is the creative one figuring all this out and planning all of it doesn't mean he should have to pay for everything.  I'm a feminist; shouldn't feminists pay for some of the sex toys?  I want to be an equal partner in this wonderful life we're creating.  If he wants to tell me to buy something, I want to skip along and say "Yes Sir!"  But I don't!  I'll try to say "I'll do as you wish."  But damn, it is hard!  I'm afraid that I may have to talk more about this sort of thing in the future.  This is hard for me.  But why does money make things so hard?

Dear John

I had the oddest dream last night.  I went to confession.  (I'm not Catholic; I've never been Catholic.)  It was in the cathedral where, in real life, I was confirmed, back when I was trying to believe in God.  A lovely Episcopal lady priest and I had a conversation and I said "I'm sinning, according to the Bible, but I don't believe this is sin, nor would my parents believe this is sin . But I know the church says pre-marital sex is sin."  And she said "I'm not really sure what to say.  Let me talk to some other people, but if you don't believe it is sin, I don't know that you need to confess this."

Ever since John's funeral, I have worn the ring he borrowed when we were talking about getting married.  I wasn't sure what I would do with it, before I got it.  I was so stunned about his death (and, honestly, before his death I felt this weird sense that he kept pulling me to him and I couldn't let go of him).  But the second I received my ring, I felt this wave of realization that John had loved me.  Yes, things were weird, but he had absolutely loved me with all he his capacity of loving.

For the last year and a half, I've worn this ring as an affirmation that I am lovable.  And, truth be told, I've asked John's advice.  I've asked him to keep an eye on me and help me a little.  He wanted to watch me emerge from my shell, which hurt me at the time--what do you mean you think I'll be amazing if I can turn into a butterfly?  Why can't I be amazing now?  But he was right.  For the last year and a half, I've often turned my ring around on my finger and asked what John would think. "Would John think this is a risk worth taking?"   He would have been delighted I went to Iceland.  "Would John think he is good enough for me?"  I've been scared of that question, because John didn't think John was good enough for me.  And, in a way, he was right.  He couldn't give me what he thought I needed and deserved.

A year after John died, I bought another ring to wear on that finger, and I couldn't do it.  After a couple of days, I felt naked.  I missed that talisman so much.

This morning I took off the old ring slowly, circling it around my finger many times, and said something like this:

Dear John,

If you exist in any form any more...

Thank you for keeping such a loving eye on me for so long.  I am going to be good.  I release you.  If there is some other realm that spirits get to explore when their ties on earth are loosened, explore.  I'm going to be good.  I may call on you again someday, but there are no obligations.

I want you to know that I loved you.  I hope you have found the sense of being loved and lovable and loving.  But any responsibility you may feel towards me is complete.

I don't know how Maxearnest found me.  But if you had anything to do with sending him in my direction, well, that is nothing short of miraculous, so I think there's a chance that some being was pulling for us. 

I'm happy.  I am loved.  I love.  I hope you find happiness and love.

And, with that, I took off John's my ring and put on another one that has no emotional ties for me.  I may want it again some day.  But for the moment, I want to let Maxearnest into those spaces of my life.

Content

There's this cool and exciting change with me with Maxearnest--I trust him and thus I am embracing all the kink in a way that I haven't seen before.  Stuff that always scared me, well, it all seams pretty cool now!  My reluctance is vanishing.

About 7 years or so ago, there was a discussion on the local bdsm listserve about whether a Dom had a right to cut off a sub's ear.  This was a heated discussion, and the general consensus was no, not a sub's ear.  But a slave's ear?  About a third of the guys said yes.  And I screamed (silently) "what the fuck is wrong with you people!"  Thus began my vigilant watch.  Shortly thereafter, I got involved with "the ex" who, for all his faults, never tried to permanently damage me (at least not physically).  Part of me stopped believing I could find a romantic kinky relationship, where the Dom would have a sense of chivalry and protection.  I always wanted "someone to watch over me."  But I began to think that was just the stuff of fairy tales, like Anne Rice's Beauty books.  I think I began to view the battle of the sexes as a battle over sex.

But still, Every night I dreamed a little dream.
Tell me, where is the shepherd for this lost lamb?
There's a somebody I'm longing to see.
I hope that he, turns out to be
Someone who'll watch over me.
I'm a little lamb that's lost in the wood.
I know I could, always be good,
to one who'll watch over me.
Oh, how I need
Someone to watch over me.

Well, Maxearnest watches over me.  Carefully and lovingly and lustfully.  He sees this as a responsibility, and it is a lot of work to look out for us both, and I can see how carefully he takes it.  I honestly think if something were a zero-sum game--if one of the two of us had to be made unhappy so the other could be happy, and there was no way around it, we would both pick to make the other one happy at our expense.  I'm pretty darn sure of it, actually.

Maxearnest adores me.  As much as I adore him!  He loves me being happy.  "A happy slave is a good slave" he says.  And he believes (and he is right) that I'm far more eager to serve him and try much harder because I am happy with him.  From the beginning, he made it very clear that yes, there are things he likes to do.  But he'd have to get to know me and my body to see what made sense for us.  Everyone else I've known would have expected me to do whatever he wanted.  I expected me to do whatever he wanted.  I knew there were kinks I couldn't live with, but I figured you dealt with that by open communication and not getting involved with someone into bestiality, or whatever.  It never occurred to me that a Dom would care so much about me that he would consider not doing some things he liked doing.  (Although, I think I'm up for whatever Maxearnest wants.)

Maxearnest gives me so much freedom.  I had to ask him something about summer plans that delays my coming to see him by about a week.  The young girl in me said "just ask for permission; you know he'll say yes."  And the Power woman said "No--we're not asking permission for this.  I think he'd say yes but it is manipulative and sets a bad precedent.  We have to be able to talk about stuff like this."

My power woman side didn't want her own way, per se, but she wanted it to be considered in a professional context, where both of us had equal say in the decision, and we could negotiate what might work for both of us.  As soon as I told Maxearnest what I wanted to do, he immediately said 'yes.'  Which didn't give power woman a chance to explain why she wanted to do it.  But the precedent that when something is important to my power woman side we can talk about it differently came through.  But Maxearnest has always respected my power woman side.

From the beginning, Maxearnest really embraced my bifurcation.  And he said to my 'power woman' "Thank you for protecting the young girl.  You've done a good job, but I know how hard that was for you.  I can take it over from here.  Go conquer the world!  I want to see what you will do!"  And that side of me trusted him and heard him and released the careful custody of my young girl.  But she still comes back to explain what the young girl side doesn't have the perspective or wisdom to explain (like why I suggested going to the local club.)

I always thought that I would fight my potential Dom, just like this woman.  That rings very true to who I was before I met him.  But, again, Maxearnest is different.  I haven't fought him at all.  If anything, I'm the one saying "you can push me harder if you want."  I actually really love the way he has been choreographing, but I want him to know that I'm strong.  I can meet him.  This is like the tango.  The female has to follow his lead, but she is up for whatever he throws her way. I can meet him and mirror him.

The young girl is kinkier than, frankly, my logical side really knew.  I mean, I certainly knew what I'd think about when I played with myself, but I never really thought it would have any bearing on reality.  But because Maxearnest respects my public side and so clearly wants my young girl to be just happy and joyous, I'm getting to the point where I want to do everything.

Maxearnest had me doing something a tiny bit difficult on Skype yesterday.  Not insanely difficult, but a little hard.  Hard enough I was a bit subdued.  And when we were done, we "cuddled" on Skype.  He had me put my hand against my cheek, imagine he was petting me, while he said lovely sweet things to me.  And in about 5 minutes or so, I was SO happy!  Happy to have pleased him; happy to 'cuddle' the best we could.  And this sex-kitten side came out of my personality that I've never seen before.  This side of me was confident and eager and mischievous and playful.  Hungry and submissive (I'm always hungry and submissive in eroticism), but definitely a willing accomplice and not just an innocent victim.  This was a side of me that I haven't seen before and that I really like!

There's this amazing 9-part fantasy series, which I truly loved (by Robin Hobbs, read Ship of Magic first if you are interested--she's an amazing writer).  At the end of the 9th book, this character, who has gone through utter hell and figured out ways to live a good life says "I am content."  I thought it was the best ending I've ever read.  "I am content."  This isn't an ending; I hope and feel this is a beginning.  But I am content.

Corny as Kansas in August

I went to a friend's birthday party tonight--he is a gay guy, and the only one who really knows where Maxearnest and I met.  (There are many variations out there--my family believes we met at a youth hostel last week...  I even lied to Dotty.  I told her that we met because he read my blog.  I couldn't tell Dotty I met him on a sex web site.)

So this gay friend, who is never judgmental about sex (although slightly judgmental about my puritanical side) actually had a very nice party (in a home, with karaoke, which was fun!) and I had much-too-much to drink.  Limoncello.  I'd never had it before.  It tastes like a lemon drop, but then it has a real kick.  (I got tipsy enough that my friend, who is always pushing me to drink more, said, politely "are you having another drink?"  And when I said "seltzer" he, for once, nodded.  (I was actually glad--I've only ever felt him push me to drink more.)  My friend asked some leading questions, and I ended up telling people that I had gotten back this week from Iceland and hadn't seen much of Iceland. 

I miss Maxearnest so much.  We are skyping a huge amount.  And we are doing things on Skype I never thought I'd do.  Vanilla things (we almost cuddled today) and rather kinky things, made slightly harder because I know they are on Skype.  But I don't see how we'd get through 2 months without Skype.  It will be hard, even with Skype.  I think we're both very sexual and tactile people.  We will clearly be the kind of people who would prefer to have sex every day. 

I told Maxearnest today that I thought we should go to a leather club when he is here.  I never in a million years thought I would ever do something like that, and maybe we won't--it is up to him of course.  But my old perceived limits are melting.  And I would be proud to submit to him in front of other people.  Somehow, they would be witnesses to the fact that I'm his, well, slave.  In a way that I feel like would be more real, since none of my friends will ever know I have anything other than missionary position.  (Actually, a friend was over and needed to borrow some laundry detergent, and I'm pretty darn sure she saw black rope in the laundry room that needs to be washed.  But she didn't say anything.  Maybe it is left over from a sailing expedition.  Of I've started rock climbing.  Or maybe I'm studying for my boy scouts exam.  Yeah, that's it.)

Anyway, the party ends earlier than I thought it would (11 pm, on a Saturday!), and I'm much too tipsy to drive, so I walk home, along the water.  There is a walk that has a lot of cars, but no other pedestrians at night, and I walk along as sing to the water:  "I'm in love with a wonderful guy."  And I am!  I haven't sung outdoors like that, just at the joy of being alive, in decades.  I felt like a teenager again.  And then I moved onto "A little bit in love (or perhaps a little bit more)" and back and forth between the two songs.

I feel so very blessed.  I've been wishing on a star at night, as I am wont to do, but I've just been thanking the stars for sending me what I wanted for so long.  

MaxEarnest's Young Girl

I had a weird dream last night.  I try not to blog about dreams, but this one seems worthy of mention.

Maxearnest and I check into a hotel and his young girl is with us.  She is about 12, which, incidentally, is about the age that I feel like is my submissive young girl side.  In the dream, however, she is a really separate person.

So the girl gets her own room and invites some friends over and Maxearnest and I go to our room.  The next day, I go by and check on the girl and she has completely remodeled her hotel room.  She and her friends added a window on a second wall.  They've added a second floor.  This is the logic of dreams where, instead of just sawing through the wall into someone else's room, it actually has made their shoe-box sized hotel room much bigger and nicer.  But I am freaking out.  I think they've probably done about twenty-thousand dollars worth of damage.  In addition to the walls, they've taken up the carpet and put in a hardwood floor.  They've added more plumbing.  It is amazing what three 12-year-olds can do with some power tools and a few hours in a dream.  I'm really freaking out and I get Maxearnest.

He sits his girl down and asks what she's done and why.  He doesn't get furious.  He doesn't tell her to obey all the rules society says.  And then, in the dream, I become her (ooh--what a surprise ending) and he and I figure out a way that it will work out, because the room is actually much nicer now, so the hotel won't be mad.  And in the dream, everything works out.  Young girl gets to be creative and implement her dreams.

This dream was so freeing for me.  I think a Jungian would notice that the 'me' in the dream is very focused on following the rules and the young girl completely remakes the box.  The me casts first Maxearnest and then the hotel as the strict, punishing figure, and Maxearnest comes around and says "it is beautiful.  We'll make it work."  Maxearnest in the dream (and in real life) wants me to obey him (and there really isn't any doubt there) but he also wants me to be creative and feel free to try anything I want.  (Of course, anything I want, at least so far, has always included obeying him and wanting to please him.  But when I was thinking about leaving for a few weeks this summer, he wanted to support me in that as well.)

I can see why my young girl side is so joyous with him!

Or perhaps a little bit more....

I am missing Maxearnest and loving Maxearnest.  I won't see him for another 2 months, and I want to enjoy these 2 months.  I'm too old to just waste a couple of months being unhappy because I don't have everything I want.  But I miss him so much!

My head says:  "You're being crazy Connie!  Everything looks good.  But slow the heck down!"

And my heart says "YES!"  It doesn't have the frantic energy I sometimes have with crushes.  There has not been one single red flag.  This just feels so right.

I'm a little scared to blog about everything that was said because I know how quickly everything happened.  But I also know that it feels like coming home.  Like we've always known each other.  Like my heart just fits with his.  In fact, there are times, it feels so right, I can't quite believe it.

Maxearnest cares about me.  I don't think I've ever had a man who cared about me the way he does.  I remember in January when he e-mailed me about why I wasn't giving Nate more of a chance, and I said "well, I'm not his first or second or third priority.  I'm OK with that (because his daughter, parent's failing health and job were his first three priorities), but I'm beginning to wonder if I'm his fourth."  And that was what, I think, made Maxearnest woo me with maximum earnestness.  Until then, he was saying "go for Nate" and then he was saying "you deserve more than that!"  I don't think I've ever really felt like I deserved being someone's first priority.

When something is too hard for me, Maxearnest sees it in my face and pulls back, because he wants me to be happy!  He lets me tell him when something is hard for me, and why, and takes that seriously.  And he says that I just don't have to worry about topping from the bottom, because he really doesn't feel like I do.  If I want to bring something up, he wants to know what it is.

What surprises me is how quickly I have been willing to share some of my darker desires.  I started off saying "I don't like pain, but I'll endure a little."  Then I was a little more honest--I crave the idea of pain.  Now, I'm saying "yes--I need some pain."  I feel safe telling him that because I see how protective he is of me.  I can admit to wanting some pain, because I don't feel like he will then demand he can brand me.  (I'm not saying I'd never agree to that, but one of my first hard limits, which he totally respected, was that I got an equal say in any permanent body modifications.  And I think branding would be about the hardest thing I could imagine.  And I doubt he'd even ask me to do that.)

He genuinely delights in me being happy! He says "A happy slave is a good slave."  And yes, we have begun to use words like 'owner' and 'slave.'  I've always resisted those labels in the past, because it felt like it was giving up too much.  But now it makes me happy because I can see that being owned by him makes me happier than I think I'd ever be on my own.  And honestly, my fantasies and desires have always tended in that direction, but I couldn't imagine a master giving me the freedom that Maxearnest gives my "power woman" side.  I've always felt with other men like it was a battle, or a negotiation.  Not just a wonderful collaboration, where the more we give the more we get because there is so much to share!  He really just wants to own the young girl side.  He nudges the power woman (which is great), but he respects and likes her.  He even loves her!  He wants me to be fulfilled in my professional life and have friends and enjoy my hobbies and have amazing, kinky sex.  My guess is some of my readers would think it is all happening much too quickly, so I'm a little embarrassed to post that.  Or maybe my 'power woman' side thinks things are happening too quickly.  But it feels like both sides are feeling really secure and content.  Like my whole being is just singing "yes."

Last night, we were doing something on Skype that was hard for me.  When he said we'd do it in the future, I kind of freaked out a little.  (I can endure more in a moment, when I don't think, and I'm just trying to endure; then, after I've endured, the thought of having to do it again will actually be worse for me than what I just did.)  Whether or not it was rational on my part, he pushed me to a place that scared me.  Intellectually, I don't believe there was any real risk, but if I got struck by lightening, or something, it would be risky.   (Never mind that if I am struck by lightening in my home, then more is going that I have to worry about.)  It felt scary. This morning, he could see I was still low-key.  I didn't bring up that yesterday was hard for me, but I was less bubbly, and he noticed that I was a little quiet, and brought up last night, and said we wouldn't do that on Skype again. That I needed to be comforted after something like that, and he needed to cuddle me too, and he needed to be there, in case something was unforeseen.  Part of me felt guilty, like if I was a better girl, I would have hid the difficulty from him.  In the past I honestly felt like the fact that something was difficult for me was topping from the bottom!  (That is how crazy so many of the men I've been involved with have been!)  But I know he wants me to be honest and happy.  And I can do that!  

I don't really know how I was so lucky that Maxearnest found me!  It seems almost miraculous.  Like we just fit.  I think he feels as lucky as I do!  I know this is all so new.  I know there may be projections and we are probably both seeing the other as we hope to see the other and not noticing some of the differences.  But that is just my intellect trying to reassure my dear readers that I haven't lost my mind.  (Would you like me to deconstruct my heteronormative fantasies? "The eroticization of S&M functions as the conceptual frame for the historicization of the (re)gendered (fe/male) body."  There--I still have it!)  I also know this is kink like I always dreamed it would be.  And more.  He makes me confident to share my desires and feel like I can trust him in anything.  With him, I am capable of enjoying so much more than I ever thought I could just endure.  He opens me up and makes me bubbly. I'm laughing with joy.  I am so happy to be his friend.  And his lover.  And his obedient young slave girl.

Leaving

I'm in the airport, waiting for my flight.  Maxearnest came out to the airport with me, but couldn't go through security as his flight is much later than mine.  I had to check a bag because Maxearnest sent me home with all his toys.  Even me.  Somehow, him sending me how with all his toys makes it all seem much more real.  Otherwise, I think, knowing me, that I'd wonder if I'd see him again.  Actually, though, I have this security with him that I'm not used to feeling.  He gave me a sense that I was the only toy he was sad to part with.  He also makes me feel like he thinks he is just as lucky to have found me as I think I am to have found him.  I get the sense that he has been looking for his sub/cherished possession/lover/friend/slave for as long as I've been looking for a master, and he feels that I'm as special as I feel he is.

He is such a sweet, thoughtful, kind man.  I feel so blessed and so lucky.

It is going to be several months before we can get together, but we have Skype.  I miss him already.  I wish I could miss my flight and spend a few more days in his arms.  This was a magical, fairy tale of a holiday.  But it was a holiday.  Next time we see each other, it will be him coming to see my quotidian life.  And I want to share quotidian time with him just as much as holiday time.  

Goodbye Chekhov; Hello Austen

We actually left the hotel today and started to see a bit of Reykjavík.  It may be the most beautiful city in the world. Or not.  But this has been the best weekend of my life.  And I also feel like we've been developing a solid foundation.  

I really love the fact that these previously compartmentalized parts of my life seem to be coming together.  In fact, my 'power woman' side made a joke during one of our long, extended sessions of erotic play, and at first Maxearnest didn't like that.  I said something like "I'll obey you now, but let's talk about that later" and he said we could talk about it now.  I didn't realize it, but he is very protective of my power-woman side and didn't want to ask her to submit.  I made it clear that if my power-woman side appears when we're fooling around, then she's there to submit--it isn't like if I make a witty joke or a double entendre, I'm no longer submissive.  I haven't seen that side of me show up when I'm in an erotic space, but I don't want to have to guard against that; in fact, it is really nice to me to have more integration there.  I was, however, touched that Maxearnest was protective of the side that doesn't surrender; he didn't want to claim her submission.   I was glad that he would welcome that side of me too and I think he was glad that if that side shows up, I'm still his submissive.

Submissive.  Maxearnest says I'm more of a slave than a submissive.  I would be fine with that with him.  He really does care about me.  I'm not just some random who is disposable.  I think he wants to dance with me, and he'd rather dance in ways that work for me, than imposing some standard he saw on tv that doesn't work for me.  He knows that I don't want to be submissive at work.  He respects that side of me too.  He knows that I submit to him because I love and trust him.  If that disappeared, I wouldn't continue submitting to him.   Maxearnest said that I really don't have to worry about topping from the bottom because he doesn't feel like I do it.  Even when I ask a request (which I do more with him than I've ever done with anyone, primarily because he seems to want to know what I think I might like), I ask appropriately (I usually ask permission, and then I tell him what I'd like and say that of course, I'll do whatever he wants).  I'm pretty sure 99% of all Dom men would say I'm not a 'real' slave.  (It is funny though, I was chatting with a guy this fall who said I was too slave-like for him because my focus was on wanting to please, rather than him taking control.)  The semantics doesn't interest me as long as I'm not making promises I can't keep.  If Maxearnest wants to own me, then he owns me.  If he wants me to be his slave, then I'm his slave.  If he wants to call me his halibut, then I'm his halibut.  It isn't like he'd expect me to breathe underwater, and if the signifier doesn't signify a promise, than he can label me whatever.   I don't actually identify as halibut; but I'd be his halibut and I'd learn to love being halibut because I know he'd make it work for us both.

Last night we went to a bar and I had the most wonderful time.  My face was gleaming, and he'd look at my face and see how happy I was and he would gleam too!  My happiness makes him happy!  We got back to the hotel, and he was tired.  He told me to make him a cup of tea while he got ready for bed, and when he came out of the bathroom, I was kneeling with my face on the floor (like child's pose in yoga) and his tea between my hands. He started kissing me all over--I think he was touched, and I was certainly touched by his gentle kindness.  But when we got in bed, I could feel how tired he was, so I asked him if I could take care of him until he fell asleep.  He gave me permission and then I sort of took charge.  I had him lie on his stomach so I could kiss his back.  I asked him to move his hands here, his legs there.  I told him I wanted him to relax, and if he fell asleep, I'd know I'd done a good job and put myself to bed.  And then I kissed him to sleep.  It took a huge amount of work to make sure that when I covered him, a foot wasn't left in the cold and to make sure there was room for me on the bed and the fan was turned off with the lights and all these little things.  And I felt this great surge of love for him, both because he was secure enough in his dominance that he could allow me to take control for a little bit.  And also because I realized how much care he is taking with me all the time.  I almost feel like I could do the falling a little bit better after that because it made me realize how many variables have to be looked after all the time, and what a good job he is doing controlling them all.

It is so beautiful to feel like these parts of me that have felt completely compartmentalized are integrating a bit and that this one man could love all the parts of me.  I feel like I've gone from being Chekhov's Olga to Austen's Elinor.  I've worked so hard to make sensible choices and felt somewhat sad at how several things turned out.  But now it has all worked out together.  I am happy.  

This morning I promised to love, honor and obey him and he promised to love, honor and cherish me.  There are no time-commitments to our promises.  It isn't like we claim we're now married.  But I know we care about the other one deeply and I think we'll try and work through difficulties that arise.  I know we have many hurdles still to come (principally, it seems to me, tied to geography and just how very different our lives are).  But I will love, honor and obey him, because I know he will cherish and protect.

After I leave tomorrow, we won't see each other for 2 months.  That seems forever!  But he'll come out to Seattle for 5 or 6 weeks in April or May and then I get to visit him in Europe this summer.  My horizons are expanding in so many ways.  I'm going to miss him, but I have this deep down sense of well-being that this is real.  We are building a foundation.  He will come visit.  I'm sure of it.  I don't think he will disappear.  I'm pretty sure this is real.  We will talk about difficulties.  We will nurture the other.  We love each other.

Falling

This morning, Maxearnest said "I could... I would... say I love you.  But it is all happening so fast."  And I said "I could, I would say I love you.  But it is all happening so fast." I'm in trouble.  Actually, I don't think he's a rambler that loves freedom, and I don't feel I'm going there by myself.  But I'm falling.  We had a few bumps yesterday, but the quality of our communication handling those makes me feel more secure with him than ever.

This morning, he takes time to get to know my body.  Mine.  Like he wants to learn what I like and what I don't, and he takes at least an hour to play with one part.  He is so incredibly generous.  Even his kinks he's put aside because he seems to care more about how his kinks mix with me, rather than just doing A, B, and C.

This afternoon, we passed a store selling high heels.  The heels I brought are 'only' 4 inches, so Maxearnest brought me a pair.  We went into the store together, and he had me try them on.  The shoes were tied with elastic, so I felt like I was hobbled.  And he had me walk a little bit.  It was as close to public sex as I've ever done.  The new shoes are 5-and-a-half inches high (although Maxearnest pointed out that there's only about a centimeter difference in the angle of the heel because there is a platform on the new shoes).  And then he bought them for me.  It was different than Nate.  It was clear Maxearnest got off on me in those shoes.  I felt like Nate just wanted to buy me anything for the sake of buying me something.  (Also the shoes were inexpensive, so I didn't feel weird about it.)

We got back to the hotel, and Maxearnest had me walk for him.  In a single line.  With my toes pointed slightly in.  This is super hard for me.  All my ballet taught me to have a perfect turnout (which I can still do), not walk pigeon-toed.  And then Maxearnest ties a bathrobe sash around my neck, a little tight.  Hard enough to make me aware of breathing, but not hard enough that it is actually hard.  I kneel at his feet, with my hands clasped behind my back and my eyes closed, and he pushes me off balance and catches me.  And I can't do it.  Inevitably, I let go of my wrist behind my back in that split second that I'm in free fall.  So he has me stand up, in my new heels, and does the same thing with me standing.  And I rebel.  What, after all, is a panic attack if not rebellion on some level?  Not open rebellion, but it is rebellion on some level.

I should say that I think in many ways my ex trained me to have panic attacks. I honestly think he got off on them.  He would push me so hard to have one, then he'd have an orgasm while I was at my worst, but then he'd comfort me.  It was about the only time that he was gentle with me.  (He didn't believe in 'after care.')  So it is impossible for me to look at having a panic attack without that history.  If I do A I get B.  I panic; he's kind.  Now, the fact of the matter is that doing A has a huge physiological effect on me; I feel tense for a night.  My whole body chemistry changes.  (Honestly, my first panic attack was in a grocery store, on the 2nd Tuesday of September, in 2001.  I had been trying to keep it together all day, and then I started to cry in a grocery store and a woman looked at me as if I was a freak for crying.  On that day of all days.  She treated me like I had leprosy or something.  And the next day I went on anti-depressants, and stayed on them for 4 years.  And I had panic attacks often when I went shopping.  I grew to hate shopping.  I grew to be very careful about shopping.  The internet never freaked me out, so anything but food I bought off the internet, and I stopped looking for things I might not find because thinking I could find fresh mozzarella or Belgian endive, or anything I considered a 'staple' that they didn't carry where I lived would give me a panic attack. I still hate shopping a little, but not as bad as those days.  And then in 2005, I made some serious changes to my life.  I quite my 'dream job,' which was really a nightmare and quit anti-depressants and the panic attacks disappeared.  It was over a year that I didn't have a panic attack.  But in 2006, I stated dating the ex, and the panic attacks returned, first occasionally, but then more and more as he got meaner and meaner.)

So, anyway, that is Connie's history of panic attacks.  And when Maxearnest was making me fall (and catching me--not that that belongs in parentheses--I was never hurt; I was probably never in danger of being hurt) I started to panic.  Maxearnest kissed me and kept going and I kept the panic at bay.  I still couldn't keep my hands together while we were falling.  (I'm honestly surprised, but keeping my eyes closed wasn't an issue.)  I guess I pleased him--he said I was a good girl.  But he said we'd have to do that many more times, and I started to panic, and then I started to cry.  I couldn't hold it together any longer.  And the we talked about it.  I think he heard me.  I'm sure we'll return to this at some point, but not right now.  Instead, he wants to take me dancing!

Help me.  I think I'm falling.  And I'm scared.

Arriving

It's been a long, odd day. I must say, the youth hostel here is quite nice (and I can't say anything else about Iceland, aside from the ride from the airport--this seems to be far more about each other than Iceland).  

Overall, I feel like this could work, but I'm not entirely sure.  My body is attracted to his body and I believe he is attracted to mine, but somehow, between the jet lag, the little sleep on the plane, the tail end of a cold and the crazy newness of the situation, I feel a little discombobulated.  I'm not feeling like "oh, yes!" I'm feeling "is this right?"  I really don't know yet.  

But I trust him and I'm attracted to him.  I think he is attracted to me.  He seems pleased with me. 

He knows I'm blogging--I offered to send everything to him first (I even offered to give him my password and let him post whatever I've drafted), but he said just send it to him when I post--he trusts me.  He trust me; I have never really thought about being trusted, because I've always been so scared about whether I could trust.  I've had so many doubts.  I was scared he wouldn't meet me at the airport because he'd be disappointed (although I did trust him to do so--that was just my insecurity).  But he trusts me and I trust him.  He just wants to know what I've written.  I really like that he trusts me and wants to give me space to continue to be my own person. 

He says he really likes my bifurcation, and he notices it whenever I shift from "submissive young girl" to "power woman."  It is funny, but I didn't realize I talk in my head voice when I'm submissive and my chest voice when I'm not--without thinking about it.  (I used to always talk in my head voice, but I worked really hard to not sound like a little girl, but the little girl side of me never worked on that.  That side of me is more vulnerable than self-conscious.)  But he said that I'm the most submissive woman he's ever met, which seems odd to me because when he woke me up from my nap (at the time I asked him to, so I could get used to this time zone), I wanted to rebel.  It was actually hard to obey an order I'd asked him to give me.  I haven't really felt that rebellious for a while, but I wanted to go back to sleep so much!  But I did what he said, and it was good.  However,  it seems weird he thinks I'm so submissive.  But Maxearnest said that he thinks my bifurcation gives me the freedom to just be 100% submissive in that space, rather than 80% submissive and 20% rebellious.  My power woman side is protected by the bifurcation. And my power-woman side has more insight on what is going on with my submissive girl side than she would have.  When I'm in a submissive space, I think much slower.  I have a harder time with big words.  Even this blog post feels less articulate. It is interesting how much that is defined.

I believe he is really seeing me.  I believe we are attracted to each other.  I trust him.  But I still feel a little lost in this whirlwind. But I'm excited.

Black or white?

So, I'm packing for the trip and I went through my sexy underthings to decide what I want to bring.

I know Maxearnest would like a corset.  I have black and white.  My cute undies:  black or pale pink or white?  My night gowns?  Black or pink or ivory.  

All of lingerie is black or white-ish.  (Baby pink and ivory and cream count as white as far as I'm concerned.)

And I realize my erotic life is bifurcated too.  I think of myself as bifurcating my life into an erotic (private) side and a public side:  private young girl and professional, power woman.

But my erotic life has also been bifurcated into nasty, hot, dirty, rough, mean kinky sex and soft, cherishing vanilla boring sex.  What I think men want (and I want some of the time) and what I want some of the time, but is boring for all the time.  The black corset and the ivory lace baby doll.  Clearly, there are aspects of both that I want.  And Maxearnest, well, if life with him is like life on Skype, he can have hot dirty, rough, cherishing and sometimes soft and gentle kinky sex.  Surrender without disdain.  Cherishing possession.  A black corset and a pink baby doll nightie.

So I packed a lot.

Nervous Excitement

I've been back and forth between excitement and nervousness all day.  I think that my feelings about nervousness and excitement are identical--it is just a question of how my brain labels my emotions.

I started off the day ebullient.  I'm afraid I sounded a little like Rebecca Black. TUESDAY!!   That means tomorrow's Wednesday!  And I can check in for my flight tomorrow.  And Thursday, I fly to Iceland and meet him on Friday!  And it's almost Friday!  (What an odd way to think on Valentine's Day.  But it is lovely.)

I'm as corny as Kansas in August.

I even managed to do some seriously good kissing up at work and I felt like I almost mended the burnt bridge with the boss.

Maxearnest and I had 3 different meeting places in Iceland, and it was starting to make me nervous; I kept seeing things that could go wrong.  I suggest a fairly complicated plan for knowing which place to go to if my flight is delayed and he sends a lovely e-mail with exactly what I should do.  He says "no options because your young girl doesn't want them--do this."  And I calm down.  I'm a little surprised how nice it is to have him take control.  It is odd, because in the beginning I was very skeptical about ceding control in non-erotic places, but he seems to know when it is good and when it is not.  (And he seems to care and only want control in the places where it is a gift.)

Then I got to the Aveda school for a cut and highlight.  I've been going there for about 10 years.  Today, when I check in, I told the receptionist: "Please give me someone great!  This is a big week for me."

It was a disaster.  Disaster!  (Aveda got bought out by Estee Lauder a few months ago, and this is the first appointment I've had with someone trained entirely after the buyout, and I think I may need to find a new place to do my hair.)  This girl had never done highlights before!  She is doing them badly enough that I asked her to get the instructor to show her what to do.  The instructor was kind of horrified and gave her a lesson, on my head.  Well she started to do them again.  I don't know if it was nerves or she is incapable of doing it, but it wasn't going well, and she knew it and threw the foils on the floor and left, saying "I can't do this!" I was tempted to agree with her.

I had to wait about 20 minutes, with 5 foils in my hair, while they tried to talk her down.  Fortunately, she continued to believe she couldn't do it, so they had two women who were about to graduate who did a great job.  But I was terrified.  My entire body turned acidic.  I'm freaking out that something horrible is going to happen to my hair, and I'll look like a freak and Maxearnest won't like me after all.  But, in all honesty, I'm not feeling that different in my body than how I felt when I was giggling in the shower.  I think the difference is in my brain.

My hair turned fine, and once again, I'm excited and happy.  Then I have to get a Brazilian.  Actually, I shouldn't say "have to."  Maxearnest didn't order me to, but it was clear he prefers that so I scheduled it.  On my way to the salon, I e-mailed Maxearnest on my phone to tell him I was running late and didn't know if I could make it home in time for our scheduled phone call.

(Waxing is one place I won't go to the school.  I went to the Aveda school once and it was awful. You really want someone who knows exactly what she is doing and had done it often and does it quickly--this lovely Russian lady kept hitting me on my thighs to take away from the pain of the waxing.  I really think they should create a kinky spa, where all the masters could order up the services they wanted for their subs and it could be a total kink atmosphere from the beginning--you wouldn't even know what you were having done, because it would hurt 1/10th as much if there was a sexual element to it.  But there isn't, and I won't even try to make one, even though I was doing it to please Maxearnest, because I feel like it would make the lady very uncomfortable if I were wet.  And I don't think it would be fair to try and make her part of a scene, and she would be.)

So all hairless down below and nicely coiffed above, I go to e-mail Maxearnest on my way to the car and realize I totally goofed and the earlier e-mail went to me, not to him.  (On my phone, there is no "new" button in hotmail--you can only reply to previous conversations, and the previous conversation I'd already replied to, so when I hit "reply" it went to me.  Hotmail is really stupid sometimes.)  It was about 10 minutes before I was supposed to be home and I knew I wouldn't be home for close to 45 minutes, and I was mortified.  I apologized for my mistake, but I also steeled myself, expecting some sort of chastisement.  I would say most every other Dom I've been involved with (except John or Bobby) would have been upset with me for that.

Maxearnest sent the sweetest, kindest note.  I just felt my whole body relax.

When I was 11 (give or take a year) my parents left me home, in charge of the younger siblings.  I went to make popcorn, and I burnt it.  I had put the popcorn outside until it cooled and then spent probably 45 minutes trying to scrub the pan, but I forgot about the lid, which was still outside.  The anger my father had towards me about forgetting about the lid is something that I still remember on a deep visceral level.  They had never told me I couldn't make popcorn--it wasn't like I'd disobeyed them.  I'd just made an honest mistake, but my father was SO angry with me for the smell in the house and the dirty lid. I also had an allowance with "deductions" and if I forgot to do anything, like leaving an edge of a cabinet wet or not cleaning out a sink drain or anything, I had money taken away.  Only like 5 cents, but it created this kind of perfectionism in me and, I think, a fault-finding in my parents.  I tend to assume that no matter how hard I try, I am going to fuck things up.  And Maxearnest wasn't the least bit upset with me.  Not at all.  He said "take your sweet time--we'll talk tomorrow."  It made me tear up and I could feel my whole body just relax.  

So excited, nervous, excited, nervous.  And Maxearnest is like this calm, loving center at the middle.  I'm so grateful.  Intellectually, I know there is a 20% chance that we won't work.  We'll meet and he won't like how I smell or I won't like how he smells, or something.  And if that happens, I will be so very sad.  But I also know he has already given me a great gift.  But I also think there's an 80% chance that we will blossom with each other.

Risky puritanical tendencies.

I went for an HIV test today.  I don't intend to have sex with Maxearnest, but he got one, and it seems only fair.

Maxearnest and I have completely different approaches.  He got one, matter of fact, but it isn't a huge deal for him.  It was like 'this needs to happen.'  I didn't think I could have HIV.  I had a test after the last person I slept with, but before the '3-month waiting period' was up (and we only ever had sex with condoms).  So, statistically, there was incredibly little chance.  But even so, with all the pictures every where of all the sores that one can have, I'm aware of this 'zero-risk' mentality.

When they were giving me the results (negative, or I wouldn't be blogging like this, I'm sure) the nurse said "have a safe flight" and I was like "I can't control that risk."  And if I were flying for any other reason than to meet a guy that I met on-line, that statement would be a passing courtesy, but instead it is one more thing that I have to control for a zero-risk life when it comes to sex.

Weirdly, though, U.S. society loves risk that isn't related to sex.  What is the worship of "free-market" ideals above all else, except a vibrant embracing of risk?  Even our constant disposable/consumer culture is, in a way, fetishizing the 'new' over the known, which is risky.  The war in Iraq is only the most obvious example of a political culture that wants our leaders to take risks.  Humiliating yourself on national television for 10-seconds of fame seems very high-risk to me.

In all honesty, the riskiest part of my trip to Iceland, whether or not Maxearnest and I have sex, is probably my drive home from the airport, when I'm tired and rush-hour traffic will be at its worst.  But those risks are somehow normalized in our culture.

Yes, going to a hotel with Maxearnest is risky.  He will probably tie me up in Iceland (although not on the first day, I'm sure.)  And once he has tied me up, he could do things that I wouldn't be OK with, and I'm trusting him not to.  But I do trust him.  

But this constant focus in our culture on the risks of being a sexual being have had their impact on me.  I can see that.  Shame our culture doesn't focus on the risks of not being a sexual being.  Those risks, however, are much easier for the corporates to profit off of.

Lucky.

I miss Maxearnest!  We talked this morning for like half an hour, but that was it!  (Granted, that was it because of my work schedule and the dang time difference--9 hours is a lot!)  But I'm shocked how much I miss him!

I feel really lucky--we just fit together really well.  Somehow, he has affirmed me, just the way I am.  (And yes, I know he'll read this.  And the fact that I can write something like that here, and know he'll read it, and that is OK, is lovely.)

I called my dad this weekend, for the first time in a long time (since I left at Christmas).  And I'm still really frustrated with where he is.  But until recently, it felt like I couldn't ask the world to treat me better than my dad had.  And I don't feel that way any more.  I feel like something has shifted for me.

I really, really hope we like each other when we meet.  I hope it is a magical, magical weekend in Iceland.  Maybe we'll even melt it a little.  

Possession

This is, of course, building a castle in the air.  I know we will, if we decide to go there, need to build foundations before we can move in.  But I am beginning to see possibilities that I, until this point, considered unlikely.

It seems that if Iceland goes well, Maxearnest will come to visit for a month or so in April.  And if that happens, and that goes well, at some point or other, it is possible that Maxearnest would want to own me.  And what shocks me is that I am open to that.  I think I will want that too.

Maxearnest doesn't view that as having a servant; who views it as a great responsibility.  And he likes the parts of me that I like.  He doesn't know the 'power woman' as well as just about anyone else, but he likes that side of me too.

And I see myself on Skype--I can always see myself in the top right hand corner.  And the joy I have with him is palpable.

The 'young girl' side is blossoming, and it is really lovely to see.

With the ex, I tried to get him to protect my 'bounciness.'  And what I meant by that was the joy and resilience and groundedness and spontaneity and openness.  I have a little figurine of Tigger.  Most of my tchotchkes are more elegant, or more exotic, or more sentimental.  I don't buy Disney stuff--I buy hand-hewn Indonesian dragons.  But I love that little figure of Tigger, because that is a quality in myself that is important to me.  And Maxearnest has spoken, in different words, of the same thing.  And he sees it as a responsibility to protect that.  He has said that things may be hard in the short run, and he appreciates that I will endure pain to please him, but he will make sure that it is joyful in the long run.

I own two cats.  And yes, there are times I push them off the bed when they want attention and I don't want to give it to them.  And there are times I pick them up and pet them when they don't really want to be picked up.  But that ownership is responsibility.  Every other man who has wanted to 'own' me didn't see the responsibility side.  The ex basically saw it as a housekeeper who would blow him whenever he wanted.  He didn't really care if I was happy.  I don't know if he ever really saw me happy.  That's not true--one days I had a blog-entry picked up on HuffingtonPost, and the ex went and bought ice-cream and fed me while I blogged, and he was very proud of me for that. But Maxearnest makes me happy nearly all the time, and he can see when I'm happy and when I'm not.  If he wants to take on the responsibility of making decisions for two, I believe he would balance my needs with his.  He would balance both instead of making either one a priority.  I think it could feel like coming home.

Pain and Pleasure

My first orgasm was with a sweet man who wooed me for a month and never called.  It was unexpected, and it was gentle but firm.

My second orgasm, and every one after that was harsher.  A clutching, grasping, how do I make this happen?  And for every single orgasm, beginning with my second one, the idea of surrender and then pain was the catalyst that made it happen.

I wasn't initially drawn to the idea of pain, but the erotica that I found that had surrender in it always seemed to include pain, and so I became more and more drawn to the idea of pain.  Actually pain, on the other had, I don't care for.  (But if I'm turned on, things that would feel like pain in other contexts don't hurt.)

Maxearnest has me playing with myself every night, and thinking of him, and having an orgasm.

Last night, when I was so close to having an orgasm, I started to go for the thought of pain, I heard his voice saying "only pleasure for my good sweet Connie" and I came without a thought of pain.  With only pleasure.  And it was really lovely.  I feel a certain lightness with that.

That doesn't mean I don't want hot, dirty and rough ever again, but it was so nice to add that note to my repertoire.  It felt like a gift.  Only 13 more days to Iceland, and I can hardly wait!

Bad Girl...

Maxearnest and I had a very nice conversation this morning--he is sort of viewing almost a collaboration between my "power woman" side and him to take care of my private girl.  My public side is much more articulate and faster and able to see connections and ways around difficulties and my young girl is so slow at articulating anything.  Maxearnest really likes that my 'power woman' can articulate the stuff that my submissive side can't.  I said this morning that any sexual explicit stuff on Skype terrified me because I just don't want video or dirty pictures of me to exist, and he was, I think, surprised at how hard that was for me.  (I volunteer doing college prep for  kids with limited resources, and we talk about how important it is to control your digital footprint.  We look at the revenge porn sites and women who are humiliated and horrified, who trusted someone, and I'm really trying to get the kids to control what is available. I tell my kids to just not make those pictures available because once you make them, you cannot control them.  If you don't want google to have naked photos of you in 20 years, don't make naked photos. Maybe I've been using scare tactics on them, but until now, I've really believed that.  This  is something that really scares me.)  Maxearnest was really surprised, I think, at how much that scared me, and the fact that that means I don't completely trust him.  He is, I think, OK with that for now, but wants to have that as a tool after Iceland.  More importantly, he wants me to trust him.  But we talked through it.  It was hard.  I think that is the most articulating discomfort that my young girl side has ever done.  But afterwards, I felt heard and honored.  (I'm still terrified of 'camming' though...)

Then at work, a boss chewed me out.  I had spoken with my immediate supervisor about a change 2 years ago, and he said no, because my upper tier boss had a policy against it.  (I have three bosses at this job, an immediate supervisor, a higher level supervisor and the upper-tier boss.  The lower two are both men, and the upper-tier is a woman.)  The chance to do it again came up and I asked my immediate supervisor, who again said no, because of the policy of the upper-tier boss, so I sent an e-mail to my upper-tier boss; she said "that makes sense, go for it" and my immediate supervisor than made it happen. Well, my higher-level supervisor chewed me out like I could not believe today.  He as SO angry at me!  He couldn't believe I'd gone over his head, when it honestly never occurred to me that he'd care or I should talk to him first.  He was SO mean and so sarcastic, and my public side had to be a bit submissive.  I apologized, profusely.  I said I didn't know (which was true) and he spat "ignorance is bliss."  He then got really angry at me for having president's day off (which is stipulated in the contract for all employees at my level) and a couple of other things that I don't control.  I don't think he is going to try and fire me over it, but it really shook me up.  He also got mad at his boss, our upper-tier supervisor and told her that she shouldn't have approved it.

I may have fucked things up at work.  I honestly didn't know, and I'm going to try and make it better, but I don't really know how.  But my boss is like that--he will pick on my for shit that makes absolutely no sense. I'm never able to predict what he wants.  Last year he got quite mad at me because he didn't like an e-mail about a grant.  (Not an e-mail I sent, but an e-mail that an outsider grant-agency sent me.)

I felt really, really shaken afterwards.  Like I had been a 'bad girl.'  Even though I know my boss is less qualified than I am (he doesn't have a JD, and was grandfathered in, but could never get the job he has now) and every single female that works for him has a hard time with him, I still feel like I did something wrong.

It is interesting how hard it was to have my 'young girl' try to explain to Maxearnest why something scared me (I don't know that I was at all articulate, but I did manage to do it a little) and how good it felt when I had done that.  It actually felt empowering for that side of my personality to be able to say something like that.  And then my public side did what I do well, I think.  I think I assuaged a situation, a little, with a tiny bit of dignity and aplomb.  But I didn't stand up for myself (in part because I wasn't expecting it and didn't know what to say, and my boss just plain old scares me and in part because my boss wouldn't even let me speak).   And even though I thought I hadn't done anything wrong, I felt really shaken.  I felt like a bad girl.

It's funny.  My dad, whom I haven't spoken to in a month, says I need to do a better job of standing up for myself.  But I usually don't even know how.   I can't quit this job.  Losing this job terrifies me.  I need this job.  And so I subjugate myself (only on a very occasional basis--he has a fit like this maybe twice a year).  And it makes me feel like a very, very bad girl.  And that feeling of being a bad girl is almost always over something I didn't predict or don't feel like I can control.

Dancing with Angst

So I have to say, I am really enjoying Maxearnest.  We are skyping hours every day, and he is funny (and incredibly quick and smart for English being his 2nd language) and all of my concerns, he sort of says 'but I would never do that--it is my responsibility to make sure that you are happy with the kink in the long run.'

I've waited years for a man to say that to me.

I'm excited, and not even that nervous about this unbelievably crazy thing I'm doing.  The 2 friends that actually know I'm going to Iceland to meet someone (rather then just because I got a cheap ticket over presidents day) both want his name, address, social security number (never mind that, as a non-U.S.-citizen, such a thing doesn't exist), copy of his passport and dna profile.  They are trying to take care of me, and I respect that.  But somehow, this feels good in my bones.  (And I am going to e-mail them the name of wherever we end up staying, although I can't help but notice that we've put off finding a place until we meet, which gives us the option of a hotel, rather than being locked into a youth hostel.  But a youth hostel probably makes a lot more sense for a variety of reasons.)

I am aware of how much angst is built into my system.  And that's OK. I just need to say "Hi Angst.  Welcome.  Let's dance."  But dancing only with angst is a little repetitive.  I think she needs a break.

There are places I'm putting the brakes on a bit.  We're both bringing HIV tests to Iceland, but I've also said I'm not really ready to have sex, and if, by chance, I feel ready after a few days, I think there should be condoms.  (Neither of us has had a partner in the last 6 months.  I know I'm taking his word and he's taking mine (although my blog sort of backs it up), but it just feels like being 'fluid bonded' is too fast for something like that--as fast as everything is going.)

But he likes my "young girl" and he likes my "power woman" (as he calls it)--even though he hasn't seen the power woman as much as the young girl.

Maxearnest said something really interesting:  some women have submissive tendencies, but my bifurcation means that instead of having submissive tendencies, my young girl is just purely submissive.  (And she doesn't really have angst about it.  She just is.)  So, in a weird, bizarre way, it is actually simpler than someone who is like 70% submissive, but it isn't divided into this public/private selves.  I thought that was interesting.  (It also may explain why the ex said I was the most submissive woman he'd ever met.)

The thing that is quite different here is that Maxearnest knows my angst and has totally embraced it.  He has never been annoyed with me for having angst.  He's been patient, and danced.  And now that my angst has been taken seriously and said "no-you aren't crazy and yes, I will take care of those things" she is sort of dancing into the sidelines.  It is odd that my public-power-woman is the side that needs reassurance.  My young girl feels safe and seen.  It is almost like Maxearnest appreciated the angst that kept me safe, and now he will keep me safe.

Maxearnest has seen less of my power woman than probably any man I've been involved with--my power woman doesn't really skype.  But because he has had concern for her concerns, my public side isn't demanding more attention.  I seem quite happy to just be the young side with him.  I'm sure when we meet, it will be different--in public, I will primarily be my public persona.  But right now, my public side is acquiescing more than I am used to having that side accede.

I know, there are probably  things I don't know about.  I know there is a chance that I will get to Iceland and Maxearnest and I won't click for whatever reason. Maxearnest said a 20% chance, and that sounds about right.  And I'll spend at least a day crying in a youth hostel, and then force myself to go hike along the volcano or take a horseback ride tour, or something.  And I'll be the bluest gal in Iceland, but I'll pick up the pieces and try this crazy treasure hunt again.  But, deep down, something feels right.  I don't have this fear that something I do will fuck it up in an irreversible way.  If this is meant to work, we'll find a way to make it work.

I do have to say, though, without angst, I have less to write about.  Angst is, I think, what has made my blog interesting.  Without angst, I may just have to report on what I had for lunch.