Tags » ‘dating’
April 27th, 2014 by Professor Chaos
There is nothing I love quite so much as a man on his knees, in front of me. Giving himself to me. And yet, somehow, when he does, I become paralyzed, unable to take action, unable to take him, in the way we both crave.
We have done it. It has happened. This is not the first time, but it is one of the first. Our bodies are not yet familiar with one another, there are no comfortable routines to slip into; instead, we have touches full of wonder, trembling kisses, and an occasional awkward, fumbling disengagement when something doesn’t quite work.
Even so, our bodies have done pretty well for themselves, and they lay tangled together, exhausted. I am still on top of him, my hands cupped around his face, stroking it. His eyes look up from it into mine with a softness I rarely see, indicative of his vulnerable state. “Thank you,” he murmurs, “for taking my virginity.”
“Thank you,” I reply, “for giving it to me.” I roll off of him, but his arms remain around me and his face turns toward me, his eyes, like his arms, not yet ready to let go of me.
“I’m yours,” he whispers. “If you’ll have me.”
Will I? I don’t know. Ownership of someone is something I have always longed for, but never quite reached, not by my standards, at any rate. It has been given to me in the past, unasked for and not necessarily wanted, dropped in my lap without any input on my part. That sort of ownership is not the same as one taken with intention, one discussed beforehand, considered thoroughly, and decided on together. That is the type of ownership I aspire to.
It is something I have wanted for ages. It is something I am not certain I am ready for. There are a number of factors to consider.
One is that, once again, it seems awfully soon to me. After all, it was not six months ago, that he belonged to somebody else. For me, collaring is nearly permanent, almost the D/s equivalent to marriage. It is not something I want to undertake lightly.
There is the responsibility of it all. I have spoken of this before, as well.
And then, of course, there is the commitment. I am more than mildly terrified of it. I have been independent for so long, and there is still a fierce streak of it remaining in me which I refuse to relinquish. I have always identified with the more playful aspects of BDSM, and I often think of myself as a mad scientist–calculating, hungry for power, but alone. Is there room for anyone else in my evil lair? While no scientist is complete without someone on whom they can experiment, I am still so very much afraid of this.
Still, I am awed as his willingness, his courage to offer himself to me like this.
And good test subjects are hard to come by.
November 19th, 2013 by Professor Chaos
We met for coffee and immediately clicked. It may be because we have similar conversational styles, or that we are both squarely between being introverts/extroverts, or perhaps that he is just that wonderful. I was very excited to have a new friend in my new city.
The second time we hung out, he kindly accompanied me to a munch so I would have someone I knew (albeit barely) to make me more comfortable. We talked for hours, about many things. It continued to be easy to talk to him, and I continued to be amazed at how comfortable I felt with this boy that I had essentially just met. And I felt terrible about how much I wanted him.
I tried very hard not to flirt. I felt guilty. I felt elated. I kept having to remind myself that this was not a date, that he was in a relationship with someone, that I had to behave myself. And I did, for the most part. Still, when he dropped me off at my apartment, I made him get out of his car and give me a proper hug, and I reveled in the feeling of his arms around me.
When his relationship with Tavi ended, I felt sympathy for him. Break-ups suck, no matter what. I tried to quash any sort of hope that was kindling in my heart. When we made plans to hang out again, I told myself that it was as friends and that if something happened eventually, that it would happen, but that I shouldn’t actively pursue him, that I should give him time to heal.
We flirted a lot. I couldn’t tell if he simply liked the attention or if he was interested in me. (I am also remarkably dense. I am terrible at telling when someone is interested in me.)
I went to his house. I tried to teach him to dance. We talked. We walked to the dance venue and he teased me about my height. I jokingly threatened him. I took his arm as we walked in the venue. I wore my “dancing outfit”–pants which accentuate my butt, and are easy to dance in, and a top that leaves my shoulders bare. He complimented me and I wondered if he liked me.
Dancing with him was amazing. I spent the night with him in my arms, making him blush and stutter and stammer, unable to meet my eye, and it was delicious. When I feel comfortable with someone, when I have an indication that they’ll be receptive to it, I have a flirting style that is aggressive, almost predatory in nature. I let them know I want them, and give them a hint of just how much I want them.
At the end of the date, I wasn’t sure what to do. I wasn’t even sure it was a date. I am normally more than comfortable making the first move, but I didn’t think it was right, so I gave him a hug and awkwardly ran away (much like Clarice here).
Our next date, he cooked for me. I love to bake, but I can’t cook very well. I love it when a man cooks. Not only is it nice to eat home-cooked food, but it makes me feel special, somehow, worth care and effort.
I have a thing about foot rubs (I LOVE THEM). Knowing this, and knowing my feet had been aching from being on them all day, he offered to give me a foot rub. I sat on his bed and felt his fingers on my arches and looked at him kneeling on the floor in front of me. And I could no longer resist.
I asked him if I could be radically honest with him and he said yes. “Look,” I told him, “I know you just got out of a relationship, and I really want to be respectful of that, but I also want to throw you down on the bed and have my way with you.” He immediately became delightfully blushy again, and averted his eyes and muttered something along the lines of “Oh thank god” and “I think I like radical honesty.”
I told myself I wouldn’t kiss him till our third date. (For those who are wondering, it was REAAAAAAAAAAAALLY HARD to do that.) I kissed him, the way I always kiss boys, forcefully, aggressively, and hard. And then we spent most of our third date kissing. His lips are soft and wonderfully responsive, and he reacts to my touch in all of the ways I hunger for, the ways that spur me on to touch him more, kiss him more, hurt him more. Simply put, he is what I have always wanted, what I have always imagined and hoped and longed for in a partner.
Our dynamic feels very, very natural to me. I can be myself, every aspect of myself, around him. I haven’t felt like this about someone in a very long time, and I am so very happy.
August 24th, 2013 by Professor Chaos
I’ve been single for well over a year now, and dating has been proving to be an exceedingly difficult and troublesome task. Part of this is because I’m not quite sure what I want; an unusual experience for me. My relationship with Shadow was my first real long-term D/s relationship, and while, in many ways, it was wonderful and everything I had ever dreamed about, its amicable but ultimately heart-breaking cessure left me a little skittish about D/s.
Part of me longs for a D/s relationship again, but I also want a relationship that is based on romance, not rules. I want someone who does the things I like, the things I want them to do–but not because they have to. Because they love me.
One thing remains certain: I am an unabashed sexual top. My realization of this has make vanilla dating difficult and awkward. I don’t know how to tell the boy who flirts with me at the coffee shop “Look, you’re really cute, but I’m just not interested unless I can drag you home, tie you to my bed, and make you my fucktoy.”
I feel aimless. Purposeless. I dither about. I start up an OkCupid profile, and then shut it down the next day. I go on a date and then don’t follow-through. I go to a munch and flirt and don’t make any plans to play. I feel simultaneously kink-starved and burned out. I’m not sure what I want, but I am sure that I want something. I don’t know if I want a full blown D/s relationship, but there’s something holding me back from getting into a vanilla one.
I guess the real question I’ve been asking myself is: can I still be dominant if I am not with a submissive? If I am in a vanilla relationship, am I still dominant?
The reason why I want to be in a D/s relationship, to do D/s, is not only so I can actualize my own desires, but because I want someone who can accept me, all of me, including my deviant desires, my kinkiness, my dominance. I want someone who I can really be myself around, someone who will accept and love me, all of me. I worry that if I date a vanilla person, I will end up having to hide or minimize my dominance, that it will fade into the background of my life. After all the self-exploration I’ve done, having to do that feels like having to deny who I really am. But at the same time, I have to ask myself if I am willing to live a life devoid of love in order to stay true to myself? I’m uncertain how to proceed with this question, and, unanswered, it continues to gnaw at my heart and fester in my mind.
February 2nd, 2012 by Professor Chaos
I have recently jumped back into the wonderful world of dating. I have to educate people in my personal life, which is incredibly emotionally exhausting. Not only does it require me to be immediately vulnerable to them, but there’s nothing that makes me feel less sexy than talking about my health. What invariably ends up happening is that I just decide to not have a social life, because it’s too much work.I had this idea of making a pamphlet–“So You Want To Date a Chronically Ill Person.” Whenever somebody asks me out, I’ll hand it to them. It’ll save us both a lot of time and energy–which, for me, is extremely important, as time and energy are my most limited resources.Few people are more outspoken than I am in defending the rights of people with disabilities to have an equal place in sexual or romantic relationships and in society as a whole, yet I can’t seem to finish my “Guide to Going Out with Gimps.” It’s too hard for me while I’m struggling with my own feelings of inadequacy about being a worthwhile romantic partner.
I feel like such a fucking hypocrite. I feel needy, reduced to a mess of insecurity, brought down by my own internalized ableism.
I want to write up my guide. Maybe, at some point, I’ll be able to. But right now, the only things that come to mind are questions, the questions I want to ask someone when they start to fall in love with me.
Will you still love me?
Will you still love me when I am hunched over the toilet, throwing up for the fourteenth time because my stomach has decided it doesn’t want to work that day?
Will you still think I’m clever when I can’t speak because my brain has experienced an electric storm, ripping me away from consciousness?
Will you still consider me brave when I am curled in a ball in bed and crying from the pain because there are tiny rocks building up in my ureters, damming the flow from my kidneys?
Will you still think I’m beautiful when I’m in the hospital, in a gown that hides my curves but reveals my shame?
Will you be okay with the fact that you will almost certainly outlive me?
Will you be okay with the fact that we may never be able to have children together?
Will you be strong enough to hold me up when I cannot hold myself anymore?
Will you be patient enough to come with me to doctor’s appointments, to listen to me ranting about my health insurance, to help me deal with the inevitable mishaps with the pharmacy?
Will you be brave enough to face the inevitability of my situation and to let me grieve? Will you be able to comfort me without platitudes, without empty words of a hope that doesn’t exist?
Can you accept the fact that I will always have to put my health first?
Can you learn to live with uncertainty? Can you learn to live to see the beauty in the moment?
Can you still love me even though I am broken? Further than this, can you learn to think beyond positive and negative judgments, can you accept that is part of who I am, and love that person as a whole?
Will you still love me?