When Sweetie saw the above photo, (it’s a crop, the original
does show my very smiley face) she said “If you want them to stop fixating on
your boobs, maybe you shouldn’t…” I’ll get to unpacking that statement in a few
paragraphs.
As we settled in for the presentation, the Gentleman left
the rope on my wrist and did that thing where he looped it into itself, to make
a kind of a handle. (To give it some “flair” he said.) He kept the handle in
his lap. There’s no other way to say it, the guy has good energy. Sitting next
to him he definitely felt like someone you’d meet at a snuggle party; warm,
safe, open.
The first part of the presentation was about different ways
to use sex toys with ropes—ah, my old nemesis, the Baggie full of vibrators.
They didn’t seem so scary in the light of day; though I’m not sure I’ll ever
warm up to big bouquets of machinery. It’s an awkward talk to sit through on a
first date, but once she got to the ropes part, the Gentleman and I settled
into each other. Our legs touched. He put his hand on my leg.
The woman who was getting demo-ed on left her clothes on.
She had the prettiest smile, and it was fun to watch her settle in under the
presenter’s hemp ropes. She built her a harness and then showed everyone how
awesome it in to yank someone around by a rope in the middle of her chest. The
presenter crab-tied the demo-lady and said “Wouldn’t you like to fuck someone
like this?” Then she climbed on and pantomimed it.
The impressive thing about this lady is that she does a lot
of self-bondage and even self-suspension. “I do this a lot at home,” she kept
saying, but she stressed the need to keep your hands free, for safety and for
other reasons. “I’m not Houdini,” she said. I’d always thought of ropes as
being so dependant on finding the right top, but I like thinking of it as
something I might be able to play with on my own.
When the demo was over, it was time for us to play. “What’s
gonna happen now?” I asked the Gentleman, and he said he wanted to put a
harness on me. Okay!
I put my arms up and smiled, relaxed, let him loop the rope
around me. He has a soft, slow touch, and soon enough the ropes started to feel
like they were hugging me, and I started to simmer down into subspace. What I
love about a harness is the ways it feels on my back—like support, like
someone’s holding me up so that I don’t have to for a while. It’s such a
concrete way of feeling cared for.
He commented on how amazing my boobs are, how could he not?
Remind me to tell him to try and compliment other things as well—sometimes I
feel like a floating set of breasts, the way guys fixate on them. But the
tricky thing about that is, I fixate on them too. I WANT them to have lots of
attention, to be seen, showcased, enjoyed, played with, adored. I physically
love the way that feels.
But the problem is, I don’t like worrying that they were the
only reason I was invited. That is a Catch-22 about fetishes in general: How
can I know that I am a person and not a thing, that he likes me as me and not
just as a collection of fetishes? My nice pal Bo Blaze said a few weeks ago to
look within and ask myself, but clearly my instincts are warped.
This gets back to my deepest fear, one of the convictions I
have that’s hardest to fight: That there is no reason a man will ever want me
for anything other than sex, and that the only thing sexy about me is my
breasts. That idea has been in my head at least since I was 14, maybe longer. I
am not sure where it comes from, but I know it’s really damaging. I think it
leads me into situations that don’t just objectify me; they objectify my
partners as well. I know that that fear keeps me from being able to feel the
closeness I so desperately want to be able to feel.
Anyway, back in the rope class, I wasn’t thinking of any of
that. When other folks stopped what they were doing to gape and exclaim, I just
felt playful and seen. I did feel like a person. It’s weird how a positive
situation can still unearth negative emotions. Today I’m just feeling
conflicted about boobs.
Next Time: Even More Swoony
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