Don’t Say I Love You

I’m an affectionate person and I need to show that. One way is to say ‘I love you’ and although those three words are not enough I do say them rather a lot; so Mat suggested I not tell him I love him for twenty four hours. Unable to resist a challenge I agree to the experiment.

Immediately my chest burns, this hurts, I feel rejected. He doesn’t want me to say I love him therefore he doesn’t want my love. A couple of deep breaths and I tell myself that it’s simply that he knows I love him, that he doesn’t need me to say it. Still I don’t feel comfortable with this. I wonder how I’ll get through the day.

Less than an hour later and I realise the solution is to keep a record of how I feel, make a blog post of it in fact.

Bedtime brings an emotionally charged conversation. I go up to bed unable to prevent an “I love…” before I go. I cut it off but it is said. In my distress I understand why I needed to say it. To someone I love so dearly, when I am hurting, such an “I love you” is a plea for that love to be returned. A plea I cannot help but expect to go unanswered. And the more hopeless it feels the more I offer my love hoping it will win me affection, security and approval.

The morning routine felt odd and disjointed. I wanted to put it back on track but those three words, so much part of how I say goodbye to both Mat and Perrin, were forbidden. Still they slipped out once, unbidden, unwanted but suprised by them I could not give them the depth they deserved.
What a relief, in contrast, to say goodbye to Perrin, able to tell him freely how I felt. The words releasing me into a heartfelt hug and relaxed happiness.

Later on I sent Mat a loving text carefully worded to avoid that phrase. That was easy, I think maybe I can do this after all.
At lunchtime I made a deliberate decision to call him. Again it felt very odd signing off without saying ‘I love you’ but easier perhaps because I knew he knew that I was trying not to.

Coming home that evening and there was lots to do, lots to keep me busy and only a couple of moments when I would have liked to say those words. At least then the end was in sight.

When the twenty four hours was up I chose my moment and launched into a volley of ‘I love you’s with the delight of knowing the experiment was over.
Still it felt different. I had learnt that nothing bad happens if I don’t say it for a while. I realised that I enjoy saying it from choice but the defensive instances are actually unfulfilling.

I think I’m going to continue to try and say ‘I love you’ less. Unless of course I’m hurting my boy when I will tell him in all the ways he needs to hear.

One Wise Man

The Christmas story is supposed to contain wise men. Here is a story of one of them.

I’m going away for Christmas to see my family. Not ‘around the corner’ away, or even ‘across the country’ away, no this is ‘the other side of the world’ away. With that comes timezone changes and means I can no longer rely on free, instant communication wherever I am.
So I will be further away from my boyfriend than I have ever been, for longer than I have ever been, with less communication with him than I have ever had.

For me this is a cause of huge insecurity. Long distance relationships have always seemed to lead to long distance breakups. While right now I feel loved, confident and happy; at the same time a little voice keeps nagging me ‘what if you’re wrong’.
So I’m afraid to go, afraid to come back, afraid of the future.

Enter one wise man stage left. [You may use two coconuts for an unconvincing camel sound effect if you wish.]

My boyfriend has amazed me with his reaction.
He listened to my fears, seriously, without belittling them or me.
He told me that he loves me, that he will be there when I return. He told me this directly, looking me in the eye. I know he was telling me the simple truth and that means so much to me.

Still I am insecure, this is an emotional reaction I cannot fully control.
Then, my darling really took my breath away. He didn’t blame me for feeling insecure. Instead he told me that he would not tell me again that he would still be there, because it wouldn’t help me; that the only thing that would convince me was time, was coming back and finding him there.

Nothing he could have said could have calmed me more than that simple statement. Nothing could have made me feel more loved and understood. These are my emotions, mine to fight and control. No desperate avowal of promises can override my fears, but coming home to find our love unchanged will strengthen my faith and confidence immeasurably.

For all he is my boy, he is also a very wise man and I respect him incredibly deeply for that and love him more than I can say.

I look forward to coming home to him.

Why Asking Is Hard

I’ve already discussed one form of asking for what you want here but it is still something I struggle with.

Theoretically I know that asking is ok, I know too that receiving a “no” is not the end of the world. I recently came across this blog post which describes this here and offers a positive message.

“I deserve good things. I am entitled to my share of happiness. I refuse to beat myself up. I am attractive person. I am fun to be with. I can ask for what I want because I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and, doggonit, people like me!”

The problem is that I often don’t feel all those things. I feel that being told “no” means that I have done something wrong. That I have relied on more emotional commitment than there is. That I will be seen as greedy or selfish for asking, and that the other person will resent my demands. I feel that each “no” is a little tally against me and when they reach some unknown value the other person will leave the relationship and that it will be my fault for asking for too much.

Even worse I may get a “yes” but it will be a grudging resentful yes, and that invisible tally count will mount up just the same.

So really the only safe ground is to only ask for things you’re very sure they wish to give. Perhaps if I give everything and don’t demand too much I will be loved, perhaps then they’ll stay with me.

This little voice, this certainty that affection is weighed and measured, is hard to shift. Even knowing that my own love is freely given does not allow me to truly believe that I am loved unconditionally. Without that confidence asking for anything is very, very hard.

Can I have a hug please?

I’m Only A Tiny Domme

When I first discovered I had a dominant side I did say that it was only tiny.

I don’t feel like a ‘True Domme’. I don’t wear scary boots or rubber. I don’t have hordes of submissive men crawling at my feet. I don’t play elaborate and complicated scenes with people and then throw them out into the night.

It’s not that I want to be all those things. I don’t. I do sometimes feel as though I will be judged as being less than a real Domme for not living up to such images.

I do feel like Mat’s Domme though. He’s my boy and my puppy and I’m utterly comfortable with that.
I recently went out with him to a slightly kinky social gathering. Despite my being achingly shy, I found I actually felt more confident with Mat at my feet playing the puppy. There is something, dare I say it, comforting about having him being submissive with me. A sense of freedom in being ourselves regardless of observers.

Sometimes though even that seems difficult. We slide out of alignment with each other. He becomes irritable and in it I sense his need to be submissive and yet his rejection of it; that in turn leaves me uncertain how to reach him. With each little rejection I find it harder and harder to be dominant, even as I recognise his need for me to be so.

Eventually, somehow, we resynchronise and everything feels better for us both. I’m still left feeling inadequate though. Able to recognise the problem but unable to identify or control the solution.
Unable to be the Domme he needs me to be. Lacking the confidence and the ability to reach his submission even when I can see it lurking beneath the surface.

I do have a Domme side but it’s only tiny.


Throughout my life, I’ve felt excluded. To start with, I come from a well off professional family, and I was sent first to prep school, then to be a border at a very nice public school.
Something I’ve only just come to realise is how that has affected me. A problem of going to a private school, quite apart from all your neighbours not going is that the school terms are shorter, and the holidays, therefore longer.
I, therefore, spent lots of my holiday time playing by myself. My parents both worked, (my mother part time) and didn’t have the time to drive me the 15 miles or so to my friends house. Not that I had that many friend’s, as I have always been a bit geeky and shy. I don’t make friends easily.
The result of this is that I’ve always been alone. The outsider. The boy that the girls ask to help with their science homework, but ignore the rest of the time. It’s ok, I guess, I’m used to it now, but I always find large gatherings of people difficult. Parties especially so, though any social gathering where I don’t know many people. I’m too shy and polite to push in (where I’m not wanted), so I end up sitting in a corner, or hovering just outside a conversation.

I’m not quite sure what to do about this.

An Important Solemnity

1. the state or quality of being solemn
2. (often plural) solemn ceremony, observance, celebration, etc.
3. (Law) a formality necessary to validate a deed, act, contract, etc.

Ever since Mat became mine I have known that punishing him was eventually inevitable. After all this game we are playing has rules, well understood by both parties, even if never written down and even humorously debated on occasion.
Continue reading “An Important Solemnity”

Waking up

This morning, I’ve come to a realisation. It’s been a bit of a painful process, though I think I’ve not done too badly, all things considered.

Readers of this blog will be aware that towards the end of last year, I (and Caitlin) split up with the gorgeous Amy. My relationship with her was intense; physically, emotionally and D/s. It’s taken a while for me to recover from.

The final part of that happened last night, or more accurately when I woke up this morning.

Last night Caitlin and I went to a lovely play party held by the nice folks at After Pandora. I should have had a really good time, and I did… mostly. I left, however, feeling rubbish. This was entirely my fault, though it was through this black aura that, with Caitlin’s help, I have regained my sense of self belief, and my confidence as a Dom that I had been lacking since splitting up with Amy.

You want some more details? Well here they are:

My polyamorous relationship with Caitlin has been transforming from something that we were considering, evaluating, into something that is definitely looking right for us. As I speak, Caitlin is entertaining our house guest (her boyfriend) in the spare room, and by the sounds of things, both of them are having a lot of fun. I wouldn’t admit it at the time, but this had bothered me a bit the last time it happened. I had a feeling of envy that I thought was because she was getting all the fun, but I now recognise was actually jealousy. The questions going round my mind were ones of ‘how do I compete with the fantastic time Mat is giving her’.

Of course, it is not a competition. Though I do recognise now that I had lost my mojo rather, which does bring us on to last night. At the party I met a lovely lady, whom I certainly hope I’ll talk to (and see)  lots more. But, because I have been in this rather indeterminate state, I rather ignored Caitlin. Now, we’d attended the party to have fun time, and part of that was meeting other people, so this was not, in itself, a problem, but we’d talked about some things that I’d wanted to happen, specifically, I’d wanted to have my cock sucked while people had been watching.

To cut a longish story short I was getting a little tired, and had decided that it was probably time to go when I came across Caitlin just having had sex with one of her friends with benefits. Again, this was completely with our agreed bounds, but instead of being my Dominant self, and insisting that she repeat her efforts with me, I got hugely jealous, spoiled my evening, and left in a huff with her in tow (Apologies to her beau are in order).

I, to be frank, was fucking stupid. I could have turned this rather hot image in front of me into some really hot sex. *sigh*

Caitlin reminded me before we went to sleep, myself still in a terrible mood that she was mine, and if I’d wanted her, I should have just taken her.

Sometime we need to be given a slap round the face, and this is what I required. With those words, she put in place the necessary things for me to sort my house in order.

I’m back, and it feels great!

P.S. I do hope I’ve not put off the lovely lady I met with my indecisive behaviour, I’d like to get to know her better 😉