Sweetie’s Knack for Ropes Part Two: Nice Safe Room

Getting ready to go out to the rope class and play party last Saturday night, I wonder if Sweetie and I were nuts for going to a play party together. Though we’ve been expanding our repertoire lately, we’ve always treated each other pretty gently in bed. Even a good marriage accumulates its share of sadness and anger, and until recently we’ve been over-careful of keeping hurty or aggressive aspects out of the bedroom. We were both worried that doing a public scene might make us cry.

Also, I was superscared of running into Fireguy and Varga Girl, Varga Girl especially—I know there’s absolutely nothing I can do about her hating me. Sweetie said she would protect me, but I knew there was really nothing she could do, nothing they could do either, for that matter. I wanted to get back out to a party before the fear built up too much, see if I still had a place there.

Packing up my suitcase gave me a little boost of confidence, a little swagger. Especially since I’d packed my favorite fluffy blanket and a pack of fresh socks. Back when he and I had possibilities, Fireguy balked at the idea of me bringing my own blanket, but I think I always will. Only having to depend on Sweetie and myself was comforting and empowering. As I was curling my hair, I declared:

“Know who I’m collared to? This girl.” And pointed to myself. I’m not sure if it’ll be that way forever, but it will for at least a little while.

My fears were dispelled as soon as we walked up the stairs to the banquet room where the party was being held. Sometimes when I walk into a play party, I feel the stress just whoosh out of me, and this was one of those times. There were various pieces of furniture for spanking, tying up, and suspending people arranged all around the room, but to me it just felt peaceful. I walked in and knew Fireguy wouldn’t be there that night, and he wasn’t.

The rope class leader was at the welcome table doing the release-signings. There was a thing on the release saying I couldn’t write about the things that happened there, but he said I’m okay because I don’t use party or person names. Otherwise, I guess Sweetie and I would’ve had to go home and play. Another release, another membership card. I put my mom down as an emergency contact, and so did Sweetie. People looked at us funny for that, but really, if I’m hurt, what’s my mom gonna care where I am. she’d probably just be glad I was there with Sweetie. But also maybe ask me what she used to ask me during my high school mosh pit days—“Why do you like hurting yourself?” Still a good question!

Anyway, The party/class leader is an ex-Marine, but an easygoing, down-to-earth guy’s guy. His energy kind of reminded me of my brother-n-law’s. His partner/bottom, (one of them) a gorgeous brunette about my age, promptly stripped down to her body stocking to help him demo.

There’d been homework that Sweetie hadn’t gotten to work on, the Somerville Bowline knot, but she picked it up quick enough. Most people were suing their own leg to practice on, but I stuck out mine for her. Next to us, not on the same knot, there was a Domme with a very subdued guy for her bottom. She kept tying and re-tying him in different configurations. I heard two words out of him the whole night: “It pinches.” and she responded harshly “I’ll get to it in a minute.”

There was a cute switchy couple practicing their knots on their own legs. Some couples weren’t practicing at all, just snuggling. As I’d seen at other parties, there was a range of ages and sizes—what most people had in common was the fact that they were making lovey-eyes at each other.

When there wasn’t a task at hand, Sweetie looped the ropes around me, practicing. I held out my wrists together and she wove them together looping and pulling through over and over to make a loose and very pretty cuff.

One part of the lesson that I liked was when the teacher said “One thing I always tell you is “Don’t break your toys.” Well, you know one thing that won’t break? Her mouth. You fuck up, she’s telling everybody.”

I don’t know why, but I found that comforting. It made my bratty heart sing.

Next: Our Pretty Pink Scene

Revisiting the Dream Guy

When I first started dating guys again last fall, I had a very clear idea of the kind of relationship I wanted. While I’m glad to be considering other kinds of connections, it’s worth remembering that this project is about learning to love myself so that I take care of myself in a real relationship with a man. If I’m honest, the dream is one guy.

In many ways, Bill and Fireguy could not have been more opposite, but they had this in common: they were emotionally unavailable and I knew that. I am horrified at how much I deluded myself into thinking that if I just said exactly the right thing and did exactly what they wanted me to do, I could matter to them, they would love me and keep me safe. They both wanted me for primarily physical reasons and they both rejected me as soon as I had any negative feedback at all.

Attaching myself to guys who are not in a position to get attached to me is a way of telling myself that I don’t deserve the attachment, that I don’t deserve a real relationship with a guy. With anybody, really.

As a way to refocus myself on what I really want and take stock of what I’ve learned so far, here’s my new list of what I’m looking for in a guy. Some of these qualities are not things that I myself possess, but that I aspire to.

My Dream Guy:

1. Has an innate sense of empathy, social and environmental justice, and respect for the human body.  He may not always know what to do about those things, but he feels them. This seems like a lot to ask for.  We’re living in harsh and callous times—even the Mayor of Kittentown has been known to tweet a rape joke! (I know. I’m trying to figure it out about him, too.)
2. Is an amazing kisser. Before I kiss someone, I should feel like these is at least some potential of a romantic relationship—I’m going to do my best to be honest with myself about this.
3. Has great taste in music. I’d given up on this one after things with Bill (still the best song sender) got so hurty, but it really is an important part of attraction for me.
4. Is a top who likes rough sex, but in an affectionate, affirming, and humanized way. He should be open and willing to discuss the emotions that go along with sex, even if it’s sometimes awkward and not-hot.
5. Is patient, kind, and emotionally available. When I’m around him, I should feel safe, happy, and free, fully able to be myself and get to know him. He is happy to let me run and play—he always trusts me to return.
6. Is willing and able to share himself, to let me into his everyday life. If he’s in a relationship, there should be room for me to negotiate and ask for what I need.
7. Is not in a couple with a lot of set-in-stone rules. That doesn’t give a secondary any room to help create the culture of the constellation—it makes it inherently unequal. To paraphrase Cunning Minx: “You got all those rules? You don’t get this.”
8. Is interested in me (and I’m interested in him) for lots of different reasons, not just kink or my hot boobs. We should be able to be whole people together.
9. He is big, strong, and tall, loving and affectionate but also capable of throwing me around like a little fucking ragdoll.
10. Lets me love him as ridiculously much as I want to. Lets me cry if I’m sad. Gets excited with me.

I already found all of these things in Sweetie, so they must be possible in a guy too. I’ll keep my eye out for him.

Sweetie's Knack for Ropes Part One: A Pretty Picture and Two Lists

Sweetie and I had a great time this weekend with the ropes both at a play party and at home. I can't wait to write a whole bunch of smut about her, but for today, just two lists:

What She Learned Online and in Class Over the Weekend:

Simple Shinju
No-Knot Two-Column Weave
Double Butterfly Knot
Somerville Bowline Knot

What Goes in My Suitcase

change of clothes (In this case, pink pajamas)
pack of fresh socks
water
pretty ribbons
my own fluffy silver blanket

Letter to The Song Sender

Last week, I thought about going back and talking to The Song Sender about what happened between us. I was/am feeling stuck and I thought maybe his point of view would jostle something loose. This morning, my stuckness/curiosity got the best of me and I emailed him my number. As soon as I did that, all the bad feelings came rushing back, I remembered what it really felt like to be with him. So I reblocked everything and sent him this letter:

"But sending you my phone number made me remember how it really felt back then. It brought back all of the fear and anxiety and worry and desperation and shame. Being with you opened up such a chasm of greif, not all of it from you, but still.

Whether you literally wanted me to be a doll or not, wanting to do all that big meaningful stuff (it was big and meaningful to me) without any pesky emotions was treating me like an object. I deserved better. I gave you so much trust, all those first times, all that love.

 

I wanted to know if you did it on purpose or maybe it was just a bad match, but it doesn't matter. I wanted to know why you didn't want to go out in the world with me, but the fact is, you didn't. I wanted to know why you didn't treat me like a friend, but it doesn't matter now, it just sucked, it was a horrible way to treat somebody.

 

I'm pissed off at the damage you did. I'm doing my best to repair it.

 

Forward is a good way to go."

I'm giving myself a gold star for finally talking back to him, even though it was so long after the fact. I hope it makes a difference. Hope it makes me feel free again sometime soon.

What I'm looking for seems really, really far away, but I do know that backwards isn't the direction it's in.

Yay, I Inspired a Poem!

One of my dearest poet pals wrote a poem about yesterday's post. I'm glad something pretty could come out of such an ugly story!

Beginning Rope Class FTW Part Three: Aftercare Is the Scary Part, Maybe

Once he had the harness on, the Gentleman said he wanted to tie my arms back. “To accentuate that gorgeous chest of yours.” While he worked back there, my hands were against his crotch, I could feel him big under my jeans. Friendly. I felt so warm under his hands as he rubbed them up the ropes on my arms, my shoulders, my neck. It didn’t seem like a place for spanking, but he said “Now I really do want to spank you.”  I said

“A little hair-pulling wouldn’t be out of line.” and so he did, gathered up my hair so gently and pulled it slooooowly to the side. Then he brushed it aside gently and kissed the back of my neck, making me all tingly. He ran his hands up to my belly and pressed, pulling me back against him. It was hot in that conference room. A drop of sweat landed on my ear.

“I just want to enjoy you for a few more minutes.”

“Take your time! I’m not in a rush!”

I really enjoyed being enjoyed, except when he said things like “Your tits look amazing.” I even enjoyed that, with a little twist of shame and worry. I don’t want to fall prey to anyone else, don’t want to be anyone else’s vacation-fantasy-doll. This guy isn’t that, I told myself, but sometimes I feel hopeless, like they’re all like that. It’s terrible.

He unwound the ropes from me and I admired the pattern of red marks they made on my chest and wrists, a little pinch-mark on my right arm, where the rope got stuck and stung…

He played some more, in the front this time, making thick rows of loops up my arm. He put his hand on my neck and I felt a swoony falling sensation, but when I opened my eyes he said “I’m practicing completing a circuit.” Apparently you are supposed to touch in two places to make a circuit—it worked, oh boy.

When it got so there was only a half hour left, I suggested we get in some hugging. We sat down and he wiped his brow, got to work winding up the rope, but I said I thought he should attend to his girl first. He agreed, tossed them down and gathered me up. Even though my head had a few worries, my body was totally relaxed, and I completely relaxed into him. I snuggled under his big arm, into his chest and just breathed with him. He ran his hands over me, gently but firmly. It’s amazing to me how things can feel this intimate, this safe, with someone who was so recently a stranger. It’s such a beautiful exercise in trust. It’s a miracle. It’s irresistible to me.

And it’s dangerous. Whenever I’m in that vulnerable position, I wonder if he’ll ever come back. I always try to make plans during that time. Bill resisted it like crazy, said mean things during aftercare either because he was an oaf or to deliberately set me off balance—it drove me nuts and made me feel desperate.

But this wasn’t that. This was just sweet hugging. I invited him to an upcoming play party but he said he was busy and encouraged me to go with Sweetie. (I am! Yay!) He said I shouldn’t let fears and heartbreak stand in the way. I like that he was rooting for me and Sweetie to get some good experimenting in, too.

Saying goodbye was hard, even though he’s brand new. I wanted him to kiss me, and said so, but he said he was feeling shy. I’m not sure what that means, if he likes me that way or not. I’m always a little afraid that a guy will forget me, but he didn’t.  He asked me out again and we are making plans that don’t involve ropes or fetishy things, just getting to know each other. That seems like progress.

I’m trying to get out of the habit of seeing each character as a solution to the last. Instead, I’d like to experience him as a nice new friend. A very snuggly one. 

Zone of Proximal Development