So, as I've mentioned on other threads, I've been on sort of a quest to find my place on the D/s spectrum, and to find a man who matches me there. It's been kind of an Alice In Wonderland experience, because each time I think I've figured out my internal landscape, something changes and I have to become reacquainted with myself. One thing that's happened is that I've spent a fair amount of time with younger men. This is not because I seek them out; in fact, I'd much prefer to find a man about my age or older. Perhaps I'm looking in the wrong places, but the men my age that I connect with (usually on-line) are just not very compelling or interesting people. In general. I have a theory as to why this is so, but it's not relevant here.
So I connected, on-line, with someone and maintained, as I usually do, a fairly agnostic attitude. Email is fine for preliminaries but I just don't really know what I think of someone until I meet him, and, of course, I don't know what he thinks of me either, so why get all invested? But. This one is different. Understanding, compelling. Strong enough to yield - and you know that it's a choice. The first man I've met in this context who wanted to know, in a more than superficial way, about my life and experiences outside of bdsm. I've been hesitant to discuss this, with these younger men, in part because it provides such a LONG history - not that I've ever deceived anyone about my age, how could I, but still, why rub it in? "Well, when I got married, back around when you were born..." Mmm, mmm, nothing more erotic than that.
And we haven't met. We've emailed and tonight we talked on the phone. Did I mention that I am very careful not to get invested? I think I mentioned it. I think I'm breaking my rule. He promises - and I don't mean he made me any promises, that would send me scooting pretty fast, but his attitude suggests - dominance, and understanding, and safety. I so long to surrender in safety. I want his foot on my neck. I want his hands in my hair. I want to offer my body to be used in any way he wants. He sent me his photo (I won't send mine, ever. If we meet and want to meet again, then he knows what I look like. If not, no one needs my photo hanging around their computer). He is piercingly beautiful. His voice. It's very soft, and very gentle, and I want to please it. It's like swimming in warm honey. It's an instrument, and you can tell he knows it, and he uses it very well.
This is the first time I've ever been frightened to meet someone, because I've never cared before what they would think and now I do. I will never be twenty again, and when I was twenty I couldn't have matched his presence. The fact that other men, even men his age, have met me and maintained an interest is irrelevant. I want his interest. I want it very, very badly.
I struggled not to develop this feeling of intimacy, I would have been happy to make small talk and discuss fetishes, but I was drawn in to hearing, and telling, what I would be happy to share with someone I had a future with. If he meets me, and leaves with my confidences in his pocket, I will be very lonely. Who is this man? I wish that I would, some day soon, meet my master. I don't want to be a slave; I want to be a servant. I want to serve with my body and with all of my being. I don't want to keep anything back for myself. One of the things I've noticed in my own and some other people's fantasies of domination and sadism is that the perpetrator, whatever else you might say, is never indifferent.
He thought that I was holding something back tonight. I wasn't holding back nearly as much as I wanted to. I want someone who will accept my service in the spirit in which it is offered.
Please don't give me advice, I'm in no position to take it. Sometimes people send hugs - I'd really like one of those. One time I was skiing and I hit an icy patch. It was snowing pretty hard and there was a lot of wind and blowing snow, and I knew I was near the side of the mountain. I lost one ski and started sliding down the mountain on my back. I couldn't stop or steer and I couldn't see, and I knew that the edge was somewhere near me. Sometimes I think you just have to let gravity take you where it will.
