Monday, April 9, 2012

How I Found Out I’m Kinky Part Seven: Baby, It’s Cold Outside.



This part of the story is really hard to write because it’s the part when I really started not to like myself. I could never really tell if Bill was the one who made me feel so bad or if the relationship just brought up bad emotions. Probably both. I’m not sure what made me quite so scared of Bill, aside from all the hurty stuff we were doing.

We were decidedly doing the D/S thing wrong. He scoffed the first time I suggested a safeword, so I was never sure he’d listen if I used it. We talked a little bit, but any time I had to ask him what he felt, he seemed dismissive and pissed off. During aftercare time, when I was all soft and subby, he’d say things like “Next time, I’ll just come over, fuck you, and leave. I’ll put my shirt on the cat for your snuggle time.” Or he’d say jealous things about my other partners. MKT is a Lego enthusiast, so Bill would say things like “You don’t need me, you can just build me out of Legos.”

I was also really worried that he didn’t like me as a person because he wouldn’t go out in public with me. I don’t mean to play parties, I didn’t know those were even an option at the time. I just wanted to hang out and pal around sometimes. We’d make plans to go places, but he’d always have an excuse to end up on my couch instead. I felt like I was no good to him unless I was naked. He gave me so little praise that, pathetically, I remember the one thing he ever “liked” on my fb. It was this:

As I said before, he called me a good girl exactly once, over email, and then told me not to let it go to my head. His smiles were so rare that I felt nostalgic about them before he was even gone.

The morning after we’d failed to have sex, I went online to listen to some of the songs that he’d sent me, and I noticed that our latest 100-song email thread said “this conversation has been clipped.” I still don’t know what that meant, could’ve meant nothing, but the bottom kind of dropped out from under me: I was sure he was gone. He’d smiled so sweetly the day before when we were listening to Courtney Love singing Violet, and now it seemed like it was coming true: “They get what they want, and they never want it again.” That was one of my worst fears about men, that they’d just fuck me and leave me every time.


I wasn’t sure if it was just Christmas that was taking him away, but he really did seem gone. We’d exchanged songs every day all day for two months, so the drop-off in communication was startling. He sent me only one more song, a generic rock-steady Christmas song, and I asked him to send me a picture of his Christmas tree, and he didn’t. I felt so sad and far gone, and I didn’t feel like I could call him up, so I did that stupid thing of reading his fb posts to other people. I mostly just cried and felt guilty for messing up Christmas for Sweetie.

I wouldn’t say that Christmas was ruined, although I was too upset to eat the extra dough when I was rolling out gingerbread men. But how bad can things be if I was still rolling out gingerbread men?

Our yearly family debate over whether Baby, It’s Cold Outside is romantic or creepy was more vivid and in depth (was I really talking about “Yes Means Yes” around the Christmas table?) until I felt like my ragged psyche was leaking out.

When Sweetie and I got home, I rushed right to the computer to see if he’d written. Sweetie was superpissed because I seemed so beholden to him, and also because I wasn’t helping her unload the car. After I was online for a few minutes, he sent Love Cats, which was a favorite of ours and seemed unequivocally affectionate. But I was still worried, because no, we couldn’t go out, he only had daytimes free.



The last day he came over, I got my period, and I was scared that he would get mad and leave because he wouldn’t be able to have sex with me. I wanted to ask him if he’d meant to blow me off over Christmas, but I didn’t have the courage. Instead, I told him that he could cover my mouth if he wanted to—previously (and still) a hard limit. I really did want to give him everything. He told me about a bad dream. There was this pair of Siamese twins, he said, and he was maiming one of them while the other looked on judgmentally. I didn’t say that that was probably me and Sweetie.

He wasn’t feeling good but we started to play. I put on the makeout mix I’d made and when Someday, You Will Be Loved by Death Cab for Cutie came on, it seemed to emo for us, so I went to get up and skip it, but he wouldn’t let me up. He held me down and I wrestled and struggled, but he kept grabbing me and pulling me back and kissing me, saying, “Is it too emo now?” Of all the things I miss about him, I miss his kissing and his insurmountable physical strength the most.

Next: (Really!) The Long Goodbye

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