[SubmissiveGuyComics is also doing a post for our NaBloWriMo project]
There are some things I don’t talk about, well, lots of things actually.
They’re unacceptable for public consumption for various reasons. Sometimes because they are simply too personal, sometimes because they invade someone’s privacy, sometimes because they are too revealing, sometimes because there is no way to talk about them coherently, and sometimes because they are so far on the side of ‘wrong’ … Continue Reading
[SubmissiveGuyComics has also done a ‘Shibari‘ post for our NaBloWriMo project]
This is a picture of the first time I played with rope, my ex boy kneeling patiently before me while I painstakingly followed instructions for this dragonfly sleeve. I enjoyed it well enough: time spent with my sweetheart, intense attention, an almost meditative precision, and oh my he was so pretty in rope, but I didn’t ‘get’ it.
I was … Continue Reading
I have been wanting to send my ex boy a copy of my book. After all, it is mostly about him, he was key in encouraging me to put my writing out into the world: It exists in no small part because of and for him.
It is a selfish thing, though, this desire. It is probably kinder of me to leave him alone. But I am often not kind. My wanting to share … Continue Reading
He had a work function one evening.
Academia: he and his fellows were meant to be grabbing new creative talent and sizing them up for their faculty. He had shyly asked me if I wanted to go. I didn’t, of course. He knew that well enough, but he asked me anyway.
“Of course!” I said.
He beamed at me. It wasn’t just that I would provide moral support: I knew that he wanted to show … Continue Reading
SGC of the wonderful Submissive Guy Comics tumblr recently posted this really sad comic.
When I saw it, it brought back a rush of memories. My memories are usually packed away and mostly inaccessible without concerted effort, but they are sitting close to the surface for me at the moment because of my anniversary post. When I was thinking about what to write, I looked back on old posts and personal writings to find … Continue Reading
It was a weekend, I took him out for lunch to a pub that sits on a point overlooking the bay. A beautiful spot on a hill, the islands in the distance.
It was warm, sunny.
He got us drinks, ordered the food, and came back to me.
We were sitting side by side in chairs on the lawn looking out over the water, talking softly and laughing about nothing in particular. I had one … Continue Reading
I don’t say “I love you” much. I am stingy with it, miserly. I hoard it to myself as if it might get used and old and dirty if I put it on the table.
I feel deeply and hard, but “I love you” is like taking out a huge knife and carving the words into skin, pain and blood spurting everywhere, cries of elation or hurt, his or mine, both sometimes.
The feeling comes … Continue Reading