What I’ve learned

I have this habit of deleting stuff when I’m mad.

I did it last night.  A bunch of yahoo messages I didn’t want to look at anymore.

And then I turned to my pictures.  His photo album.  That gave me pause.  As I looked at the pictures, I realized that there were good memories there.  Stuff that was worth keeping.  I didn’t delete them.  I like that silly little picture of my sandaled feet next to his boots.  It reminds me of us.  I did love his Wranglers and his boots.  I loved taking them off for him.

And it made me realize that there were many good things to come out of this relationship.

I went into it insecure and sexually frustrated. Coming out of a sexless marriage.  He drained that frustration.  Made me feel sexy again.  Showed me how good sex could be.  He helped me explore my kinks.  It was through him that I found that nerve that runs from my nipples to my clit.  It was only with his guidance that I discovered the incredible combination of pleasure and pain.  I trusted him enough to enter subspace.  To once actually forget my safeword and burst out in a fit of giggles in the middle of a titty torture session.  That was a particularly good session. 

I got to explore the limits of my submission – how far I could go – actually too far some times, giving him parts of myself that he didn’t even ask for.  And recognizing the areas in which I never wanted to go.  I will never be a 24/7 kind of girl.  While I would enjoy having my Sir decide what panties I should wear,  the thought of him deciding my clothes, my nail polish, my shoes would profoundly irritate me.  And while I would love to spend an evening serving my Sir, I am so glad I don’t have to spend every evening serving my Sir.

I now know I like it rough, but I need a soft stroke and a cuddle as well.  I know that it can be hot to be treated like a slut, but that this can be a real mine field for me – proceed with extreme caution.

What I understand first and foremost is that in order to play in this kind of game you must be in good working order.  And I am not.  I must first be comfortable with myself, with being alone.  I must first be happy with my own company before I can hope to share my life with anyone else.  Otherwise I will continue to find myself operating out of fear and desperation.

I will eventually find someone to share my life with – to share adventures with.  I would still like to go to a titty bar – hopefully before I’m too old to do it.  I’d like to find a Sir who will take me out to dinner and play Dom/sub games while we eat.  Maybe make me wear a dildo or one of those remote controlled vibrators.  I’d like to find someone to spend a Saturday evening with – watching a movie, sipping his whiskey, maybe sucking his cock during the commercials.  But that’s just a lovely fantasy for now.

I don’t really know what the future holds in store for me – perhaps even better adventures than I’ve imagined.  I do know that I need to spend some time taking care of myself.  Journaling, exercise, healthy eating, and challenging myself to break out of my isolation.  I’m going to get myself into good working order, in preparation for my next adventure.