It’s the holiday season and that can be, complex. Friends and family, all my favorite music there is much to love about this time of year. Yet, this time is different too. I am miles from home, there is no one to cook for, nothing to prepare, things are a little unsettled for me, the isolation is more stark.

Work is great, For a moment I was afraid. We have big plans and the next couple of years could see explosive growth but everyone wasn’t on board. Scary stuff, for me anyways but it all worked out in the end. My work has morphed and evolved which is pretty good. It is fascinating, piles and piles of it. I have very little if any role in ‘what’ we do but I work with everybody who does ‘what’ we do. Hopefully, if I do my job well, it will make their jobs easier, more effective. That’s a pretty darn good reason to get up in the morning.

Me? Eh, I go to the gym, thank goodness or I would weigh 200lbs, lol. I eat, hopefully, when i decide to diet again all the working out will pay off in spades, but right now I am stronger and have dang good stamina, not exactly a bad payoff. But there are still oreos in the kitchen I had a major falling out with my trainer, I decided I wanted to change my routine and concentrate on strength training and he became quite angry. Now he is a glorified spotter. Eh, he watches me lift weights as I go through my routine. He claims not to understand what I am trying to accomplish. He has a crappy attitude but I don’t care. He is paid thru Feb, so we will keep meeting at 6:30a until it’s done. The girls who teach spin cycle, yoga and pilates are awesome. They encourage, not berate. They don’t try to get into your head and they let you work at your own pace but they don’t let you quit. Everything in it’s time.

Sex, sigh. I got tired of the whole casual sex thing so I’ve been ignoring most of the emails I’ve received. If one catches my eye, maybe I will respond, we will just have to wait and see.

It has occurred to me that I really do find dresses quite sexy, so I want to give myself the gift of wearing them more often.  I think they are attractive and that they soften me. I like being a woman and I want that to show. Not that I am a push over but that I am all woman. I am not sure I will ever be that woman who never wears pants, I rock in jeans, but I would like to be that woman who at least wears dresses most of the time. I love heels. so I wear them even more often now than before. With jeans, slacks, everything. The shoe sales this year, wow! I have a fetish all right, it is shoes. On a more intimate note, I want a piercing. For a long time I put it off in case ‘He’ didn’t like it. The thing is, there is no’ he’ so when ‘he’ comes ’he’ will have to get with the program because I want it and I will have it. Joan Crawford once said, “I never go outside unless I look like Joan Crawford the movie star. If you want to see the girl next door, go next door.” I am not sweet. I am vibrant and funny and sensual. My evolution includes dressing the part of who I am, not hiding in plain sight. Over and under my clothes, I’m giving myself permission to be confidently, self-sexy. Sexy for me. If you want sweetly submissive and uncertain, I can’t help you.

Mr Married hasn’t gone anywhere. Thankfully we don’t see each other often, maybe every six to eight  weeks. We do not get an A for effort in the illicit affairs department.  The upside, I never see him so he doesn’t interfere with my life. The downside, we talk a great deal, multiple times a day, sometimes only for seconds, other times much longer. Thus he dominates (HA!) the place in my mind where fantasy lives. Is he a place-keeper? I don’t know, probably. Sometimes when we have these raging battles I hope it is the last ime and he is just gone for once and for all but that hasn’t happened yet. I kinda hope someone comes along and sweeps me off my feet and then one day it will be a moot point. Instead this is simply guaranteed to end. He is funny. He is smart. He is handsome. He is Dominant and we click. Oh well,,,

As for the poem, it occured to me while I was trying to process my feelings about Mr Married and what he represents in my life. In many ways He is my dream deferrred.  A kinky, dominant dude. Gomez to my Morticia, when we’re clicking, we’re clicking. He bakes pie, I bake cake. We both drive jeeps, we both have a backgounds in IT. It isn’t always sex talk and chatter between us. I am a person to him and I matter, as much as I can. We laugh. My fantasy strong man.

But his other life, his REAL life is my dream. Someone to watch after and someone to watch over me. Football games and recitals. Dinner and trips to see the fam. All I ever wanted. Donna Reed in corset and shirtwaist.

The dream deferred? I guess it is in your perception. If I stayed despondent and broken over what I don’t have I would be lost. My dream would be that festering bad meat left to rot in the sun. The despairing do not see their dreams as deferred, the dream is seen as lost, gone forever. Like Lot’s wife they look over their shoulders towards their hearts desire and they are frozen in space until they are washed away.

Instead, I’ve sifted through the rubble of the dream and fashioned new dreams. Instead of loss, I’ve determined a reason to keep going and instead of hopelessness, I’ve found a chance. This is not to say that everything is coming up roses. I have sad times, angry times. Not just at Mr Married, at men in general. I have not deserted men, yet I often feel men have deserted me. Thus, I had to make choices and take control of my dreams back from those who don’t see and value me.

However, I am no longer lost. There is a plan, “Creating A Family – 101″, and I am working on it. The shattered dream of my own family in the ‘Ozzie and Harriet’ sense has been patched back together, it looks different but it is there and it is doable, deferred, changed but not lost, not destroyed.

What happens to a dream deferred, does it lie heavy in your arms as your will drains from it like life from the dying? Or is it reconfigured broken glass, glistening in the sun like crystal as light reflects on the uneven edges?

I will let you know when I finish gluing my glass,,,

The London Tanner is back,,,

http://notesfromtheworkshop.wordpress.com/
CD

Allow all ingredients to reach room-temp before you start. PreHeat the oven to 325
2 – sticks of butter
3 – cups of sugar
5 – eggs
3 – flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1 – cup of milk
3 – tablespoons of lemon extract (almond, vanilla, orange, whatever you like)
1 – Butter/Floured Bundt Cake Pan (12-cup size)

Cake

1. Cream the butter and sugar, beat very, very well.
2. Add eggs, one at a time, keep beating very well
3. Sift flour and baking powder
4. Add flavoring to batter
5. Alternate adding dry mix and milk into batter.
6. Pour batter into Bundt Cake pan and place in oven
6. Bake for 90 minutes, give or take a few

Glaze
1- cup of powdered sugar
4 – tablespoons fresh lemon juice

Add juice slowly to powdered sugar. Stir well but you want this to be a very thick glaze. Spread glaze over still warm cake, allow to cool.

I have made this with only vanilla, only almond and only lemon flavorings. Three tablespoons of flavoring make for a very strongly flavored cake. Use your own judgement after two tablespoons of flavoring to ensure it fits your tastes.

Next time I make this recipe I plan on only using two tablespoons of the primary flavoring, substituting one tablespoonful with butter flavoring. I want to increase the sweet flavor butter brings without adding more sticks of butter. This cake is a very soft, almost to the texture of angel food, adding additional sticks of butter will simply make it goopy.

This cake is excellent with fruit, whipped cream, ice cream, coffee, milk, etc.

Visit All The Kinky Ladies For More Yummy Treats

Our Hostess Jz – http://areluctantbitch.blogspot.com/
Alice – http://curiouserandcuriouser-alice.blogspot.com/
Ally – http://allystepsforward.wordpress.com/
Elysia – http://blissfulelysia.wordpress.com/
Externally Motivated Wife – http://externallymotivatedwife.wordpress.com/
greengirl – http://greengirl-whatiwonder.blogspot.com/
Hedone – http://pleasure-principle-hedone.blogspot.com/
Kirsti – http://thedrenchedone.blogspot.com/
Kelly Red – http://projectkelly-kellyred.blogspot.com/
Molly and Mick – http://undercontracttomywife.blogspot.com/
mouse – http://aslavestale.blogspot.com/
nilla – http://vanillamom.wordpress.com/
Sara – http://findingsara.wordpress.com/
sephani paige – http://sephanipaige.wordpress.com/
sin – http://findingmysubmission.blogspot.com/
Striving for Peace – http://jumpingonin.blogspot.com/
Tempting Sweets – http://temptingsweets.wordpress.com/
turiya – http://spiritedmeanderings.blogspot.com/
Xantu – http://xantumagic.blogspot.com/

**** My apologies! I missed Aisha!!! http://beingaisha.wordpress.com/ ****
Go by and scoop up her recipe too!

What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore–
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over–
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?

Kisses, kisses, hugg tites all around,,,,

Yes, I’ve something to say but I’ve got gym in the morning so it is off to bed for me.

I’ve been cleaning up the blog, the links, my thoughts on things,,, stuff to share with you,

Here’s something, in case you didn’t catch it directly,

This link is awesome, her writing foreshadows my thoughts, impending writings,

http://theartofbeingfeminine.blogspot.com/2010/10/man-who-wants-to-improve-you-and-change.html

If this were a phone call I’d say I’ll call you back, it’s not, so, be right back,

kiss

I’ve attempted many conversations with the therapist about this, poor woman, she had no idea,,, I creep up to it and then I scurry away,,, this may take a while.

I wish I could explain why I sit in my mind and actively debate my actions while I am doing them. I wish I could do the right thing all the time. Just rip the freaking band-aid off and walk away. But I don’t, I don’t.

When I am on a date and I want to toss my water on some guy and storm out — why not?  Why sit there and debate ‘submission’ when I am seething and what I really hear is someone attempting to manipulate me into doing what they want by suggesting I do not understand how I should behave as compared to how I actually do.

A friend of mine once got in trouble debating global warming I think. I broke up with a guy this month over immigration. Here’s the kicker, if he had called back after the big blow-up we probably would be chatting today even though I think he is an idiot. I am not sure why but I know it is true. My personal defense mechanism when annoyed with someone is to delete their number and contact info. If they go away, sigh of relief, if they call back, eh oh well, I guess another cup of coffee won’t kill me.

Apparently I may be passive-aggressive, but who knows. Mostly when ‘discussing’ I tend to respond the same way most of the time. Wait patiently until the person runs out of steam and then restate my case; smile patiently and agree (lie) or stand my ground becoming confrontational. I’ve been doing the wait patiently and restate my case thing with my personal trainer for the last four weeks. This week I pushed back a little more when he tried, yet again, to convert me to being a vegetarian. I am trying to really become low-carb, at least I can eat as a low-carb person. The other day, when he started in on me again over my food choices I gave him word for word, not angrily, just stated my case. When I did not fold in the face of his wisdom, he literally stormed off stating he would not discuss it with me until I was ready to listen. Uh yeah. I will never be ready to listen to that speech Dude. I am never going to be a vegetarian. I think I am comfortable making that statement to him. Honestly, I am morphing into some kind of low-grade athlete but never a vegetarian. He can get over it. Come to think of it, I may tell him that tomorrow, but then again, maybe not.  

Btw, I have NOT mentioned DD, Ds or any other kinky thing to the therapist. She has enough to deal with, I don’t want to cause her to transfer me back to the pony-tail wearing supervisor.

But, right now I am making myself very angry, mostly when I am on dates, mostly when I am trying to understand why I haven’t found a human who finds me worth rising to the occasion for, this is perplexing.  

Yet, as many dates as I have, why do I spend time with those whom I know do not have a long shelf life when the next bus is coming down the street so to speak?  I frustrate the teeth from myself sometimes. It is a waste and it is aggravating, but the option is sitting home and that is not my favorite thing. So I go and I ruminate and I confuse myself..

However, I no longer blame myself — that is a step forward. Actually, I got this nice list from a gentleman describing me, ”You find a solution to every issue, you’re supportive, you stand by your friends, you are passionate and sexy, you are a wonderful woman, good woman, good person and you give emotionally” 

All of that is true. Overall I am not a bad girl.

About a month ago, in a moment of despair, I told a friend, you can’t be pretty enough or thin enough, you can’t be smart enough or bring enough to the table to make someone love you. That is still true. But I no longer take that assessment and feel hopeless about the future. At least not everyday, maybe from time to time but not everyday and less and less as time goes on.

That assessment indicates that there is no way a person can be essentially good. That is not true, I can be essentially good and worthy. I AM essentially good and worthy. If someone else misses that it is a failing on their part not mine. If a person won’t step up to the plate, their bad judgement is no reflection on me.

Is there a button in my head that needs to be pushed? Perhaps a switch that needs to be flipped? I can understand a married woman swallowing part of herself and accepting actions or behaviors from her spouse that she neither appreciates nor agrees with – ever. However, why do men who you barely know think they should get the same courtesy because they are ‘dominant’? Why do I have this stupid conversation, over and over and over again? Those married or committed people have an agreement and are making an investment into each others lives. They ARE each others lives. DD or not, the fact of life is, married people eat guff – the only difference is what kind of guff will they be enjoying today. Well actually, married people who want to be married eat guff – the rest of them, keep each other company while their futures fade like smoke from dying candles. 

These guys that I date? It’s just kinky sex, a kinky booty call truth be told.

I don’t have romantic notions about long-term relationships. People I know here and in real life have lived through deep water. I’ve watched the most committed DD, D/s and M/s couples have been tossed about like wheat. Truthfully, I’ve been frightened at times. My chest painfully clenching when I read your words or hear pain in a friend’s voice. I’ve learned, this lifestyle choice does not inoculate you from life, it does not guarantee success, at best, it offers optional tools to build a bridge back to each other. It is simply a different way of ‘dieting’ that some have found works.

But, like a diet, low-carb or vegetarian, it only works if you commit to it, if you try. I had Oreos tonight, for shame, they are not on my low-carb diet and I will have to run them off this weekend. The price for going off my diet – I have extended the time required to reach my goal. Somewhere else, a woman was spanked, however she got there, be it maintenance or submitting to being punished; she or better yet they, did not lose site of the overall goal. In the long run, they will meet their objective, strengthen their relationship faster than some who do not stick to their ‘diet’. 

Maybe that is part of the issue. I am dumbfounded that there are those who want to circumvent all of that commitment and sacrifice. Some form of relationship cosmetic surgery. The sex thing? Ok, let’s get on with it, but why do these gentlemen want me to mentally buy in? It is a charade after all. It is creative, it is fancy, it is all these wonderful pulse-pounding things — but it isn’t anything else. That perplexes me. The rules, the pretense, they make-believe offenses, enough already. I am working with the therapist on ‘seeing’ things and stating plainly what they are, not saying they are what someone else defines them as being. These activities go totally against what she is trying to get me to do. It wears me out.

Why can’t I just say, ‘Ok, let’s sleep together, role-play a little until something preferrable comes along”. This apparently is just a little to upfront for these guys. So they tell me they are married, or have been married three times or are life-long committed bachelors with no intention of ever settling down with another. Why then, do they expect me to commit to them when we don’t have the same long-term goals? Thus I feel like I am falling down the rabbit hole,,, trying to make sense of nonsense.

Is there some game being played that self described dominant men have to win?

And really, what is the problem? Do I think I need to prove myself? Do I think I want them to acknowledge my worth? Am I worthy because they say so or because I actually am? Trust me, therapist lady is earning her pay,,,

So that’s what’s kinda up on the relationship front,,,

Btw, when I figure out Mr Married I will let you all know,,,

Enjoy your weekends

It’s Labor Day and I swear I was just on the road moving on July 4th.

Oh,,,

That’s right,,,

I was,,,

I am settling in, finding my way and it has been,,, interesting.

I enjoy my work.  It’s different for me.  I come from the land of the 30 day sales cycle, even when dealing with major accounts.  A person should have enough in their funnel to ABC (always be closing).  In my new work, it doesn’t quite happen that way. Our projects are much larger and instead of focusing on just one thing, I do many things as part of a busy team. I can actually see where my work ties into the work of the rest of the team. However, in my opinion, I am extraneous, really. Well, not really, but I don’t ‘do’ what we ’do’. I work around the team, preparing, watching, pitching in and developing. One day, in the future, I will be selling again, hard, but right now I am learning the business and laying ground work.

My first week here, there really wasn’t much for me to do and my type A personality on steroids had a raging migraine, only due to the stress of not having piles to do. I know, I know, I need to learn how to relax , I am trying but it is a new skill J. Not to worry though, now, I have plenty to do. 

And I am part of a team.

When you are in sales, it’s all about being the top dog; the number one producer. Working on the team, it’s all about what’s best for the team and contributing to everyone’s success. My plate is filling, some things I am,,, well heck, afraid of, but right now, this team thing is going well. I am being entrusted with tasks, projects and that feels good.

As for the therapist and the pills. One I take, the other I go see. She is actually a very nice lady who listens a lot, comments a little. Apparently, I am hyper-critical and very judgmental when it comes to me. Who knew? She often say’s I don’t have to be so hard on myself. “Sigh”, I am trying to be flexible, I am listening but,,, idk, just but.  We both look at a situation or a set of facts and we have different assessments. What do you do when you have to look at something for what it is instead of as defined by the party line? Does acceptance bring relief? Not that I can see but what do I know.  I have long lived by the credo, just get on with it, keep it moving. No matter what happened. There just isn’t been time to sit and wallow. OK, phrasing that differently, I have not felt capable of just collapsing, crying and letting it all out. There has been too much to do, the next issue is stepping up to the plate and needs attention, just get on with it.

That being said, apparently my favorite coping mechanism only works when the next giant weight is there to press all the other issues farther into the closet. Being here, in my new world was like having a giant cork pulled out of the bottle.  I could relax and enjoy, the problem was when the cork was out of the bottle, everything behind it wanted to come too.  I am paraphrasing here, but being happy was making me sad. When I can explain it better I will.

Ahhh, the men. ttwd and actual emotional involvement are shifting targets. One thing, the therapist would like me to take a moment before getting emotionally involved with someone. Take some more time to do our work and to settle in. But, men happen and the occasional lap go ’round, well, it floats my boat.

Mr Italian Dinner, has been surprisingly resilient, especially for someone who initially claimed he did not want anything serious. I would not say we are serious. I would say we are consistent. He likes my bottom, alot. I work out three times a week and I try to walk at least four miles on three additional days. Yes, I do things to work the bottom, yep, I do. When I walk, I seek out staircases to run up and down.  Go Bottom!  At any rate, he likes to spank, and fondle and slap and tap. Just a few of my favorite things too. 

Mr Married, well, he works very hard at emotionally obligating me to him. That is one thing about him I find perplexing. He has a wife. Why does he have this laundry list of things he wants from me, including the idea that I won’t see anyone else. Really!?! No stuff!?! He has a wife! WTF!?!? So, I fix it in my brain. I lie. I say yes to some of the foolishness knowing I don’t mean it. I don’t think I would purposely lie, (not the occasional deer-in-the-headlight slip ups), I mean out and out lies to someone I thought I was seriously involved with but because I lie to him that is my way of saying, ‘Hey Dude, you’re crazy and I’m crazy too, welcome to lala land’.  If we were a real couple, I would do it and I wouldn’t lie about it but we aren’t and I do.

He constantly speaks in terms of us, what I do for him. I have to tell myself it isn’t real or I would fall hard and that isn’t good.

Why be bothered? Cause he f—s like a jack hammer and wields a mad flogger.

Actually, our kinks sync. He likes what I like, all of it. He comes up with interesting things at interesting times. Not sure I’ve ever been to sub-space but that flogger takes me on trips somewhere, and it is somewhere I like going. He spanks long and hard, over and over in progression. Hand, paddle, strap, paddle or flogger, paddle, strap a continuous pattern. Or crop or cane but they are lengthy beatings. Spanking only seems reasonable when otk, otherwise, it isn’t quaint and it isn’t a spanking. We both slip up and say beating from time to time, which he doesn’t really like to say, but when all is said and done it is what it is.  Emotionally, things get pushed to the surface under his hand and yes, I do like it. We have ritual, process.  I am good with process and rules and ritual. I sink into that and release the control. Unlike with many guys I’ve dated, he actually has the strings and when we are in the moment he is all the way into the moment. I don’t have to keep an eye out and the periscope up, but he has me. I like that,,,

There are more, prospects, even when I am not dating, I’m dating. Conversations from the past, contacts and acquaintances never go completely away and new ones arrive. I’m not even on the dating sites as much. I took a breather from POF and deleted my profile on CM. Perhaps I believe I am destined to settle or be alone but I think I would rather be alone and find myself happy than settle with someone who only feeds one side of my being. There is more to me than being kinky, I don’t know yet how to find someone that reflects all of me and I reflect him.  Maybe I am dramatic and fatalistic but that is where I am today, we will see about tomorrow.

Sigh,

Home from vacation a week now,

Sigh,

I miss my buds,

We had way too much fun, like little kids hyped up on mountain dew and kool-aid sticks. I tell ya’, when the mature ones at the party are teenagers; Houston, we have a problem. The inmates took the keys and threw them in the lake — Good Times!!!

I miss my buds.

Well everything but that keys in the lake thing. Most of my friends are in traditional marriages or relationships and that whole keys in the lake thing would have been a big problem for all involved. Shoot, I didn’t even pack a boss of me, why should I suffer? So no, things didn’t quite get that out of hand but not for lack of trying

My girls packed husbands and kids. I packed make-up but no dress because someone, ___-____, said I wouldn’t need one. Let’s just say I won’t be taking packing tips from her anymore And we did the stuff women do, shopped, ate, discussed men, hiked (well they hiked, I walked one short distance unescorted), cooked, ate, played with the folks, tried to talk secretly dirty (we were abject failures). I tried to pick up a cowboy but his 72 year old wife would have pulverized me so he escaped with his virtue intact. Every morning we had the same discussion about who did or did not put on make-up, who did or didn’t wear lipstick, did we say jeans or skirts, boots or flip flops. We saw all kinds of stuff. Someone, who shall remain anonymous introduced me to the father, the son and the hot guy. Someone else showed me the joys of french press coffee. Halleluia,,,

My date bailed at the last minute – unimportant. What is important is how our guardian angels got together in heaven and decided me and my buds, we needed each other. More over, their kids and Hubs obviously sense something special too because in a day of crazies and dangers we treat each other like found money. See us now? We are the big bohemian group sitting at the best table in the restaurant and having a blast.

I got to be Auntie CD, which is a hoot and touches my heart everytime someone says it. It reminds me of the first time I met one of their sons. He was coming into the kitchen at home and I was in the door giving him a big hug. As I told his Mom later we were on an abreviated schedule, we did not have time for formalities and courtesies – we had to jump right into ‘OMG look how big you’ve grown!!!’ Their kids just sucked me right in to the chaos and for this I am grateful. I remember:

* sitting on the tailgate of the truck while the others shopped and agreeing that emo boys can be cute but suggesting a little levity never hurts

* speeding through town to get to the office because everyone had to pee

* hearing a young lady decline to flirt because she was surrounded by ‘Mom’s’ and then going over and teaching me a thing or two about self-respect and standards

* after growing up in a house where only girls did dishes, watching the boys do them night after night, even creating a game of sorts

* getting beauty and fashion tips from teenage girls

* watching boys morph into men in real time

* puppy kisses instead on kitty kisses

* telling a Mom the kid and I were buying thong panties just to see her come running into the store

* the kids efforts to change my profile on Plenty of Fish to highlight my love of StarWars. I don’t love StarWars. I love the GodFather but they really feel strongly the light-saber connection will get at least 1,000 hits.

* having the screen saver on my netbook changed to KungFu Rabbits

* my Sassy Gay Friend!!!

The rabbits thing, I carry my netbook everywhere, normally in my purse. It’s cool when the kids are comfortable enough to call you out about it and say stop being anti-social. Point to the kids. One night I left it in the dining room to hang out in the kitchen, when I came back a group of guilty, grinning teen’s could barely contain themselves over my reaction.

There is a book for aunt’s you know. We have a sacred duty to be the paragon’s of virtue on the important stuff. Listen closely to their stories and worries, create secrets ‘between just us’ that won’t last the night and spoil them rotten. Their job is to say no, my job is to say don’t let your parents find out. Except ofcourse when I remind them I fear their father’s, lol. The kids were severely underwhelmed. After they spent days trying to convince me their dad’s were at heart, softies, I ammended it. I did not fear their father’s but I did respect them and didn’t want to do anything that would prevent us from hanging out in the future. That explanation seemed to work.

One night over beers the Dom’s offered advise on the care and feeding of men. Ofcourse I was all ears. I was told by men who are as different as night and day that men need direct, clear statements. I was advised I must tell men exactly what I want, using straight questions, giving straight answers. According to the Dom types, men do not understand hints, nudges, implied suggestion or any of my favorite communication tools. They understand clarity. The Hubs then proceeded to give me examples of mass confusion from the lives of other, non-dominant men I’m sure. My friends would never create such chaos although I do believe, I saw Ethel and Lucy creeping around. For the record, my friends suggest I try hand-puppets with my dating candidates in the future. Wisely, this suggestion, was made outside of the hearing of the Dom types.

I’m almost positive I passed the sniff test with the Hubs too. I am clearly not accountable to anyone but I guess I come across as fairly trustworthy. I am not one of those women who comes on the scene to stir up crap. You know the type; confrontational, rude, dismissive. Not my style. I am house and relationship broken. My entire goal was not to get everyone else in trouble or atleast not in the kind of trouble that can be directly attributed to me. I think that transmits in my demeanor so I get to come inside the gate. However, once in the gate, I only contribute to their feeling of herding kittens but hey, we are funny kittens. Ofcourse it could also be that my friends, all of them, have a habit of expressing their concerns about me to the men types. Then it could just be they are keeping an eye out as well. Once, the teen posse was dispatched to help me to my room. Seriously. 50 yards, maybe. I wasn’t going far, but the Dom type was serious. Exasperating and warm-fuzzy producing all at once, sigh. I sincerly respect these guys and their positions in my friends lives. I appreciate them for being such great Hubs and Lovers. I tell ya, a whole lot of hugs and kisses got passed back and forth on Walton’s mountain. It’s a wonder someone isn’t preggers

With the Dom’s, I did my best Sales 101, chap 3 review. Engaging the customer I talked, I listened and they talked back. Bossy Love them madly, they are bossy, inadvertenly so, I think. Very cognizant of what is going on around them even when they are ignoring everyone. Giving, I swear, there was a conspiracy to make sure I slept well at night and it involved a lot of wine. Thoughtful and trying very hard, in their own way, to make sure everyone was having a good time. One suggested I go enjoy the sun, which was the LAST thing I wanted to do. But for him, it would have been heaven, so he shared his heaven with me. How cool is that?

That was something else that was evident the entire time. DD couples are not perfect. Sometimes it just doesn’t click, but, what makes some DD couples thrive is intent. They intend to do the right thing. Moreover each partner has decided to love and respect the effort of the other, even when the aim is off. Yes, it means loving the effort, loving the thought, loving the person even when the action was not desired. Forgiveness, the opportunity to offer openess without fear; I think is what makes the DD, D/s and plain old traditional relationships I observe work.

There is this fantasy in the blogosphere about what the perfect HOH looks like, acts like, I can’t say – I’ve never met perfect. But I have observed imperfect HOH’s in their boisterous, contemplative, observant, thoughtful glory and it is good. Who they are requires work. We so want to believe in the blogosphere that being HOH creates towering paragons of virture and strength who reap all the benefits with no risk or loss. I beg to differ. I do not know stupid women and even being the MacArthur of a DD relationship often must feel more like being the Truman. Be assured, smart women do not flush their brains and opinions because they choose DD. Thus, the shifting dynamic which is promoted as mindless and simplistic infact increases relationship complexity. A simple two-step becomes a fox-trot and then the tango.

Be assured, while DD liberates men to be leaders, their responsibilities increase exponentially. Their lives, for all the blogosphere focus on being the boss and the disciplinarian who always gets the final word, have real moments of humility. Unheralded, they are charged with putting the needs, no, the whims and desires, of others first because they are the HOH and that is part of the job. Quite a paradox, being the bad guy and the good guy simultaneously. These men, charged ownership of the tasks of life must operate with patience and longsuffering richly mingled with glower and bluster or sometimes tightening lines. That’s what we signed up for, remember?

Unfortunately, what many, in the pursuit of misguided testosterone-fueled glory fail to understand is that mananging your family isn’t limited to micro-managing your wife. The DD wives I know have bigger worlds thus their men, in a display of strength, expand their worlds to accomodate them, not force them back into the shadows of over inflated ego. Their worlds do not have time to punish for leaving a sponge in the sink. Get real. This is serious business and it calls for serious people. Their DD is not for pet-peeves and peculiarities, theirs is for living life more abundantly. These DD men are not shrunk into bdsm charicatures, they are, in their own ways, expanded.

So, one last funny thing, the women, (I was corrected by a teen, ‘you are not a girl, you are a woman!’) had a habit of floating around the tables at dinner to clump together and giggle. Well the men were having none of that (after they figured out that they, somehow, were at the kids end of the table). One night, it was announced, all the adults should sit together. Another night they simply inserted themselves into chairs at the table, lol. Final thing about DD guys, they hate being separated from their sweeties.

Can’t wait till next year,,,

And I miss my buds,,,

Sigh

“I know it is galling to keep hearing that you need to get back on your meds, but I think it would help make some things clearer. And you might be able to enjoy your life even more than you are.

“That is not a big drug for big crazies. That is a little drug for little, minor crazies. Little minor crazies should be addressable by sheer force of will, nothing more, nothing less.”

 

If it’s just Paxil and no big deal, why resist taking it?  Why not exercise that will by taking your medicine?”

 

I received the above quoted comment in an off-board response to a recent post. Then today I was having a heart to heart talk with a friend of mine she essentially asked the same question, insisting upon an answer. Then we talked more and more and more, because that’s what women do, we talk a subject into the painful dirt and then memorialize it.

 

I’ve been trying to answer the question with no luck. It is a very serious question and it deserves a thoughtful answer. I am creeping towards an edge I do not want to visit. I think I may have thrown in the towel and decided to take the meds just not to visit the edge. It is easier not to address questions both internal and external. It is easier to leave the boxes closed and move on. Take the damn pills and call it a day.

 

The question is difficult, not because I don’t know the answer but because in order to articulate it, I must be bereft and who wants that? Once I package my feelings and put them all away I don’t like to revisit them because they overwhelm me and if I am lost to myself who shall save me?

 

Why not take the pills?

 

Because taking the pills is admitting that something is not good and it won’t get better, ever. Taking the pills means there are forces that cannot be smiled at, worked with, negotiated, withstood and overcome. Taking the pills for me means that I am defeated. That I have been affected by it all, that I am scarred, changed and will never be the same again.

 

The unexpected tragedy that Rev spoke of has been my life. I am not sure if I am changed for the better, it seems to be the worst.

 

Can I sheer force of will myself through the rest of my days, idk,,, but I like to think so.

 

Btw, the pills, which I have encouraged others to take, seem to be a panacea. I know from experience that the Paxil will work. It will kill my sex drive but it will work. The greyscreen through which I view life will be removed to reveal vibrant, color. It is probably too much to hope for. The cost of failure too high. 

 

What I have come to realize is that there is a scream in me. a scream of shock, horror and dismay. A scream of grief and pain. A scream of fear and it claws at my inner breast bone, seeking to break free. Meanwhile I am working daily to wall it up, keep it contained.  Sometimes, and only sometimes, I want to sit by the side of the road and wail. Just once. I want to admit to being hurt, I want to admit to being afraid, I want to admit to being overwhelmed by tragedy. I want to cry with all that’s in me. I can’t. Too much is dammed up in me. And letting go, truly letting go and being available to others gives them the opportunity to poke a hole in my dam. If they poke the wrong spot the whole house of cards could come tumbling down.

 

So I function behind this wall and with all due respect I do well thank you very much. but I have these friends who think I can do better. Who think I don’t have to live with this rigid control, (which isn’t all that rigid, but still).

 

“All anyone wants is for you to be in control of your life so you can enjoy it fully.”

 

I have a friend who describes the process as going to get me before I withdraw. I have another who claims every now and again she has to take my emotional temperature. My friends, they won’t leave me alone. They know when the smile is fake. I trust them enough to misbehave, sometimes on purpose because my failings are not deal-breaking. This may be why I have had the same set of women friends until just within the past five years or so. Now I have my old friends and new friends and I am Switzerland No seriously, I’ve been blessed to have a couple of women come into my life who are my list of friends. I had not believed until recently that it was possible. But they are normal, and they are my friends. Moreover, they expect nothing in return. How cool is that?  I can’t be too crazy and apparently they aren’t going anywhere. The craziness doesn’t bother them. 

 

The last couple of months have been rough for me but I thought I was doing ok. Actually, all things considered I am. But these people have gotten it in their heads that I should really enjoy life. 

 

As if I’m not having the time of my life.

 

I have a friend who one time looked at me and said, “Remember this, this is what happy feels like”

 

I remember, and this is what happy feels like. I just feel it differently I guess than others, I feel it intermittently. It flashes up and is good and then goes away and then comes back.

 

If  they mean not be emotionally fragile inside ok. However, I think there may be this thought, and it may be true, that I am holding back, observing life more than living life. As if the outside me is present and accounted for and the inside me is engaged is poised in some sort of hyper-vigilant defensive posture. I think they think I never rest inside.

 

I am rich in friends. I know that for sure. Why do I know I love them and they love me? Why do I feel secure and at rest in their presence but at a loss in other situations? Earlier today, someone wanted me to go outside, do something. I would have been lost. Instead I stayed close, almost tucked in, relaxed, happy.  What if my version of happy just isn’t everyone elses version of happy? Granted my version of happy includes a lot of repression and pathos but still,,,,,

 

Has anyone thought about what happens if the pills don’t work?

 

Then I will just be me and this will be as good as it gets.

 

Sunday –

 

It isn’t enough that I am getting the meds. That is most certainly happening. But friends being friends they always point out the silver lining in any perceived cloud.

 

They played the W&W cards.

 

What pray tell is that you ask?

 

Well my friends are ruthless and cunning in their efforts to ensure the pills happen. Something about me having no credibility in this arena and my word being unreliable but I digress.

 

They threw in W&W. It seems that having my mood lifted will fix two vexing problems. Weight and Work. I am unfortunately vain about one thing, work and I want to be vain about another, my weight. Ahhh these are cruel, cruel women dealing from the bottom of the submissive women’s universal tool kit, flash card, daily motivations, playing deck.

 

It seems not being occasionally emotionally turned inside out gets rid of the desire to stress eat, impacting Weight! Uh huh, and having my thoughts all cleared up will make me more effective at, tada! Work!

I like to think I am pretty damn good in my work. Tell my little vain behind that I can turn into my own Salesperson Superhero and become more effective simply by taking the pill? Heck, sign me up.

 

So, I have given in to it all. And, I am going to do it right. Not just take the pills, but examine the life, the turmoil that has been suppressed and repressed so I don’t have to worry about it anymore. Get me to someone who’ll listen. 

 

Sunday, One More Thing – 

 

Last night at a local bar some of the men began coaching me, offering little tips on dealing with men. One stood out, be direct. Tell them in plain english in no uncertain terms exactly what you mean.

 

I need to work on my thoughts a little more, clearing them up so I can write this down. But, quick question for the ladies. Am I the only women who holds back on being totally frank with men based on the idea that their fragile egos can’t take it? That they prefer to arrive at solutions themselves? That being too direct is akin to tftb or calling the shots and a no no in D/s?

 

Gotta think about that,,,

 

Vacation is great. I am going to bed as soon as this posts because I am exhausted. Fyi, This is the earliest I’ve gone to bed in a looooooong time. Feels good to be this tired. Ttyl