Saturday, August 31, 2013

What Giving the Ropes Away Means to Me



This morning as I was packing up the ropes to give away, a warm glow came over my heart. I called Sweetie to see if she wanted to keep one as a souvenir and I kept one of the pink ones too, along with the one SG left back in June. It might seem corny to say this, but I could feel the magic in all the ropes. I could feel myself reconnecting with the warm memories they held, reconnecting with that part of myself.

The warm magic feeling stayed with me the whole bus ride to where I was meeting the first person (and also best choice) who responded to the post I put on Fet yesterday. One dude responded with “I’ve never seen your at (Regular Dungeon) before.” Given that all the groups he’s joined were things like “Older Men Looking for Younger Women (Under 39)” I told him I was probably too old for him to have noticed. He wasn’t getting my grown-ass woman ropes, that’s for sure.

Anyway, the girl I gave the ropes to is new and town and looking for a wing girl, so I think I made a new friend in the process. That makes me feel like I’m awesome at life.

I’ve been enjoying having little closures lately. Since I can’t change our living situation, I’ve been doing my best to make small symbolic changes, parsing out the letting-go so it seems manageable.

I loved my rope experiences with Sweetie, though the last few were a little sad. I’m so proud of her talent and all of the sensations and emotions and hot sex the ropes helped us share.

I can see a time some day down the line when I might want to be all wrapped up in my own pastel ropes, but for now they’re tied up (ha.) with trying to soften what I wanted so that she could fit into it and be comfortable. Like my original shiny Christmas ribbons fantasy, it was a niced-up version of what I really wanted, a way of sanitizing the deeper and more problematic kinks. (I still want to do the Christmas ribbons someday, though.) They also feel like they were part of my whole trying-to-be-gay thing, trying to make myself acceptable by accepting the muted emotions that came from playing with her. Those ropes were such a marriage of repression and release, and it was a relief to let them go.


I’d considered keeping them in case I wanted to learn the knots someday (The Lady of the House may be disappointed that they’re gone…) but I really don’t have any desire to top anybody that way, not even myself. The next ropes to squeeze me don’t have to be pretty; they can be rough or plain, as long as they belong to a Him.

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