My first submissive has commented on some of the posts I’ve written about him using the nickname “Her First” (this cute choice of nickname makes me smile & I’ll be calling him ‘First‘ from now on).
I’m putting this comment from him here in its entirety because it sums up his perspective of this situation so well. You’ll need to read that post for this one to make sense.
“He sees a kind of rueful humour in it now”
Honestly, that’s an understatement :)
It was 18 years ago, and many of my memories of my time with you are still so vivid, good and bad. I remember the moment I discovered the ‘betrayal’… I can play back that video in my mind in excruciating detail.
It hurt me. It changed me. It made it difficult for me to trust women again for a long time. And for a while, I hated you, yet all the while longing for you as much as I ever did. I hated myself for feeling that way.
And then time went by. I had new experiences in life. I grew and I learned many new lessons. In time I began to realise just how complex life and relationships can be, and that I was far from a perfect person myself. So finally the day came when I realised that I forgave you. My time with you helped define me, and there was plenty about myself that I liked.
So a few months ago I made contact with you for the first time since 1999, and immediately rediscovered my love of simply conversing with you. I remembered your eloquence, your ability to draw me in with your words alone. You were, after all, the first woman to make me discover my sapiosexuality.
It took a little courage to bring up the ‘betrayal’, but I really needed closure – the wound had never fully healed, and I simply wanted to understand that chapter from my past.
And closure I got, just not the sort I expected! Rueful humour? I literally burst out laughing. It’s difficult to express the feeling of realising that the greatest hurt that was ever done to you, that shaped you, that scarred you, that made you deny the submissive side of yourself for nearly two decades, had never actually happened. It was like my timeline unravelled, the hurts were erased, and I was suddenly 25 again with my eyes blinking in wonderment. I felt embarrassed and stupid, yet renewed; I felt the scar tissue melt away.
Since then, I’ve been able to focus more strongly on the good memories of our time together, and reawaken some of my forgotten kink interests. Now I can look back at my past and laugh, and look forward to my future with a devious smile on my face.
Phew. My reply is not worth repeating, but you can read it on the original post over here if you’re interested.
More on First to come…