I haven’t written about this: I might still, at some stage. But sometimes the whys and wherefores of difficult things are better left to sit quietly unspoken until there is no power left in them.
Suffice it to say that I took a hit and feel like I am now gathering up my various resources, hoarding them until they are back at full strength.
I took a tentative step out and reactivated my vanilla dating profile, put up some new pictures. It was a litany of fail: Ridiculous one-liners, incredibly dull profiles, terrible off-putting photos. I swear there is some factory somewhere where they churn out these shadow-men in endless numbers. After a while they all just seem like the same one dimensional cut-out with slightly different shapes.
To be fair, I did get two interesting emails: both from men in the US… bah! One smart and funny submissive type who turned off his location filter to find me (silly boy, who wants to see glimpses of the untouchable?) and one vanilla type who had a stunningly fascinating profile and who had not given two seconds of consideration to the actual consequences of distance.
I deactivated the profile about a week later. I didn’t have the appetite for it. My resources are still too depleted.
On the upside, I have been talking to the sweet boy with whom I had a service date last year. We have been in touch on and off since then. He has also struck some experiences recently that have left him feeling a little raw.
I invited him to visit for another service date: He will wash my car, kneel before me, serve me champagne, massage my hands and feet, colour my nails, and we will talk about things that don’t matter much.
It will be simple and sweet and uncomplicated. A small reminder of who we are when we are not being buffeted by the world.