And that’s why I’m looking for coffee

I live in small town Maine. Real small Maine doesn’t do great coffee. It doesn’t even do good coffee, so I set off this morning to find better coffee. If you are from Maine you are laughing at my delusional quest. Not know for our coffee. “I’m setting off to Maine to have great coffee” was said by no one ever. The nearest big town is a few hours drive away and that’s going to have better coffee.

I’m always reaching. I’m not a settler by nature. I will always try to make things better, find a better fit, drive for better coffee. I think it would be easier to be a settler. This coffee is good and leave it at that. Imagine that? What contentment that would bring. I have coffee, I should be happy with that.

The problem is, I’ve tasted better. I know there is better coffee out there and I will always seek that coffee which was good.

The coffee in Bangor is better. Much better than home two hours from here. Was it worth the two hour drive? Yes, it was. My taste buds needed the better coffee this morning and my head needed the drive.

But this isn’t a story about coffee.

It’s one of those damn analogies.

I have tasted really good M/s. It was sublime. It wasn’t perfect, he’s not perfect and I’m not perfect but we did it really well. We had this in-sync (Bye Bye Bye – you’re welcome) thing going, we knew each other even when we didn’t know each other. He walked in the room and my atoms recognized his atoms and they tingled because two bits of the same star come back together and we were inseparable from that moment. We argued and misstepped and tripped over each other but it was still sublime and who gets to have that? People look forever for that and I had that. Now I don’t have that. Now I am back in Maine, licking my wounds because it’s fallen apart but I am still looking for ways to make it better. To get back to that sublime thing we had. Like the coffee. I taste small town coffee and my longing goes to big town coffee. I look at what this relationship consists of now and I long for what was. I can’t have what was, I’m suck with small town coffee for the moment, but I’m not a settler. I either find a way to make the coffee better or I find different coffee.

And that’s why I’m looking for coffee

What the hell is D/s?

Great question.

I’m not the one to teach you.

There is so much information available to you online, maybe too much information and if you found this blog, then you were probably looking for D/s – you maybe know more than I do.

What I can do is share my experience living it and be honest about what it.

First of all, it’s not about sex.  While that can be great, and kinky (I’m assuming you’re kinky but it’s ok if your not,) it’s a really small part of it.  I think sex can be great because the people involved are happy and living the life they want to live.  Conversely, sex can be bad if the people involved are unhappy and not where they want to be.  Interestingly our sex life was always great, even when we are at our worst but we’re just freaky like that. If you are in it for the sex, find a top or a bottom and leave your emotions at the door.  Pick them up on the way out and maybe take someone elses if they look better than yours.   What? You’ve never thought of doing that.  Come on, I’m not the only one.

It’s hard because people are involved.  You know how people say without the customers their job would be so good?  They wouldn’t have a job without the customers and I wouldn’t have a relationship without the dominant.  Sometimes I think about labelling myself a submissive and having no dominant and then basking in the glory that is my uninterrupted submission to absolutely no one.  Then I wake up. He’s pretty vital to this whole thing but more about him later.   Other people don’t always do what we want them to do.  Annoyingly they have their own way of doing things.  Even more annoyingly they have their own thoughts and they may not be on the same brain wave as you.  Take the people out and D/s is a beautiful thing. It’s a give and a take, everyone getting what they want.  Add the people and it’s a big ole mess of chowder floating around in a pot.

D/s and M/s (I’m going to use them interchangeably because they are not very different, it’s just about what you want to call it,) are power transfers.  They are based on the submissive ( that’s me) giving power to the dominant ( that’s him.)  That can be a tiny bit of power or it can be a lot.  That takes negotiation skills.  I’m a terrible negotiator as you will see if you read on.  No one is calling me up for diplomatic service. It’s one of those necessary tools in the D/s toolbox but very few people seem to be able to use it.  The instructions are IKEA figures with speech bubbles in Simlish.  I filed them away which is code for lost them when I opened the packet labelled D/s survivor guide.  Survivor should have warned me this was going to be harder than it looked.

It is hard right now, but that’s my personal situation.  It doesn’t have to be hard. It is possible and doable and I believe in this way of life. I believe in its possibilities and its structure and I believe in its love.  If you are in blogs searching for D/s and you stumbled onto this one, you probably believe in it too.

What are your experiences with it?  The good, bad and the ugly.

 

Am I the Rotten Apple?

The relationship I was in for sometime has changed.

Drastically. A total remodel or I should say de-model.

This was M/s and it was poly. It didn’t start off poly – yes you can see where this is going.

I was miserable in poly. Really miserable and I did it all with a smile on my face.
I thought he was amazing. Perfect for me. Of course, no one is perfect. That was my first mistake. I built up the person I would belong to into this godlike being. I didn’t jump into a relationship after finding M/s. I waited, I was sensible and then I fell in love with a very human man. As he should be. It was unrealistic of me to put so much pressure on him to be anything but human and fallible. That was my mistake, not his. I had to reassess what the relationship I was in was going to be and what was possible. My fantasies had to become realities and I think I did that rather well. I enjoyed it. I enjoyed him and us and what we were creating.

Then along came Emily. The other slave. The poly. I feel nauseous typing this but I feel that writing about this will help me put it into perspective and look at my responsibility for what happened and see where I can change.

Emily and I became friends. Great friends. I would say she was my best friend. We clicked as women sometimes do and it was fun. We got each other’s sense of humor. We had a language of our own. We shared a similar history. He saw this and he liked this relationship we had, he encouraged it. He encouraged it so much that he invited Emily into our relationship as another slave. He did that without talking to me about it. I heard you gasp. I saw your image of him instantly change. You’re not alone. So did mine.

He thought that because Emily and I were so close, we could all be close together.
We had talked about poly in the future. It might be ok, I said. It could work, I guess. I didn’t want it now. I wasn’t ready for it now. Suddenly I was in it. I remember the conversation very clearly and I remember going away and crying as I have never cried before. My throat was tight and it was hard to swallow. My stomach was rolling and a ball swelled inside it. These are the symptoms of a broken heart. I loved him. I adored him. I -yes, it’s a clique- but I worshipped him. We had a full power exchange relationship and I was dependent on him. He crushed me.

I loved Emily but I didn’t want to share my Master with her. I didn’t want to live with her.

Emily has issues. That’s not Emily’s fault. She had a crap life. On a scale of crap lives, Emily’s rates down on the bottom of the crapper. She has a serious mental issue due to this crap childhood. There was substance abuse, there was homelessness, but Emily had managed to pull herself up and build a life around herself and I admired her for it. She was strong and hadn’t lost her kindness and sweetness. But those issues she had/has can’t be denied. They exist and they take management. For those around her, supporting her, that can be exhausting.

Of course, she needed to be treated in a particular way to accommodate those issues and kudos to him for being willing to take all that on, but it changed our lives in a radical way and he didn’t ask me. He didn’t ask me if I wanted to be Emily’s carer and I became Emily’s carer. I became a mother, older sister, councillor and I resented it. What did I get in return? Less sleep, more work, less him. Much less him. No support for myself in what I was doing for Emily. I hate this new arrangement and I was angry and sad.

So why didn’t I talk to him about it? You’re thinking to yourself I would have spoken up and maybe you would have and I admire you for being able to do that but I couldn’t. I have been a carer my whole life. I grew up caring for my mother who has MS. This role comes naturally to me and I stepped into this new carer role and after a while, it was expected of me. I resented it so much. This wasn’t what I signed up for and he’d done this with no conversation about how this would be. I didn’t talk to him about how unhappy I was. I showed him. In a very passive aggressive horrible way. I was on birth control that gave me huge mood swings and depression ( it’s been removed and I’m doing much better, thank you) and I wasn’t coping emotionally. I still didn’t use my words to say I can’t do this and you need to change the way our lives are set up.

Emily requires a lot of support to help her through the day-to-day. She does really well in an M/s poly, it’s almost made for people like Emily. Emily doesn’t need to be the focus when she’s in poly, she can hide away when she needs to, she can have the space she craves ( she’s extremely introverted and anxious.) I, however, don’t do well in poly. I have never considered myself a jealous woman. I’ve never experienced it before.

Jealousy is real, folks. I hated him spending time with her. And sex. OMG don’t even go there. I cried every time. EVERY TIME they were together having sex I was crying. I’m a very dehydrated person. When she kissed him in the morning I wanted to chop off her little fingers, one by one, and plant them in the window box as a warning to all other sweet troubled little cuties who thought they could come around and kiss him.

Yet, I loved Emily. What’s not to love. Other than the fact that she belongs to him as well. I don’t love that. I went through a period of thinking I was a terrible person. I should be grateful to have my best friend by my side every day. To have her as support ( she’s not, she’s too anxious to take on other people’s worries.) To have her as someone to share the life of a slave and all its ups and downs ( I don’t, she’s too anxious to discuss anyone else’s problems.) You can see this is very much a one-way relationship. What I got out of it was pain and heartache and dehydration.

Emily and I were treated very differently. All slaves need to be treated as they need to be treated, no two are the same, but the differences were frankly unfair. If Emily needs him, she gets him. I wait. If something is too hard for Emily, she doesn’t need to do it. I have to do it. I had a punishment dynamic, she did not. It’s a long list, I won’t bore you and I’m trying very hard not to sound bitter. I’m bitter by the way. No doubts about that. I resented this difference very much. We’ve recently talked about this resentment and it sounds horrible saying why it hurts me. She’s broken, she was destroyed by terrible things, her life was crap, of course, she needs to be treated differently but damn it still hurts and mentioning it makes me sound like a jealous bitch who has no feelings. I’m a jealous bitch who has no feelings by the way.

I finally talked about it. It couldn’t go on. I said I hate this. He was shocked. Why hadn’t I said something sooner? Because you’re really bad at listening to me. Emily takes up so much of your time that you go to the easiest method possible which was often a punishment, interrogation and lots of questions. Lots and lots of questions. Emily hates questions and of course, he doesn’t ask her questions but I’m not bitter about that. I’m very bitter about that by the way.

I stopped talking about my issues and problems and I held them inside. I lashed out in passive ways. That was very unhealthy for me. I’m not that kind of person. I always regret it and fell bad which added to the mountain of badness having a feast inside me. I became ill a lot, I believe from the stress. It seemed there wasn’t a moment that I didn’t have a cold or a headache or an ache somewhere. I stopped mentioning them. Emily commented that I was always sick and I took that very personality so I started to hide the fact that I was always sick. I don’t have a cold, it’s hay fever. I am not stiff and sore, I worked out.

I burrowed into myself and started doing things on my own. I started college online and deep-dived into it. There is nothing as good as “I have an assignment” as an excuse. Works every time – in case you’re looking for one. Of course, you would need to be in school but well worth the effort if you need some alone time. Amelia’s handy hint #1
Back to talking about it. It had to come out right. No one is that much of an idiot that they can’t see that one of the women they live with is a raging bitch most of the time. I don’t want to be mean and call him a slow learner but slow learner. I had to say I hate this and it’s over. I can’t do this with you two anymore. This is bad for my health, my spirit, my wellbeing.

He wants to work on it.

I said you can work on it. Get rid of her and we can be what we were, which was really good. What we had before Emily was amazing.

He can’t do that. Of course, he can’t do that. She relies on him and they love each other. They genuinely love each other. Not as much as he loves me but I’m bitchy remember. So I left. I had to. It’s impossible to continue in that environment where my soul feels underfed. I have tried very hard in this relationship. He still wants to work on it.
He chose her. When asked he chose her. He chose the broken difficult, dependent little flower. He let go the healthy stable grown woman who can support herself and lifted him up and made him better, who loved him just for him, not because she needed him. That says a lot about men and what they want, doesn’t it?

I don’t know where I am. I mean emotionally. Physically I am back home and fine, all’s well on the physical plane but thanks for asking. I’m up and down but mostly I’m a bitch because I am hurt and they are still together and it kills me. I need to move on and find someone who wants one slave, just me, who is a pretty good one I think. There is one problem. I love him. I really do. Because I love him, doesn’t mean I have to live with him or like what he is doing or support his decisions.t We can be separate. Separate houses. Not all poly people live together. I can put her from my mind. She isn’t my responsibility. She’s his. I’ve blocked her, we no longer speak, I can’t. That seems to mean I know because up until very recently we were very close even though I hated her being with him. But I can’t talk to her any more. I can’t see her, take her messages, see the hurt on her face. I just can’t.

I’m a mess, I’m upset. I’m angry. I cry a lot. I have to be grown up about this. Either end it, get past the pain and move on, or suck it up and find a new way to be poly that I can live with.

By the way – I acknowledge my part in all of this. The fact that I didn’t talk about it sooner is on me. I get that. But I’m still bitter.