Oh whoopsies, broke a few things on the site there, didn’t I? Hopefully the new template tweaks are working nice and smooth in your browser. Feel free to leave a comment if they are not! Otherwise, it’s been busy these last few weeks, but up until last week, maybe not so exciting.
What have I been up to this summer?
No sooner did I get into doing live streams, but an amazingly awful blanket of heat waves hit my province, turning my possible filming space into a sauna. I do not like it when my gloomy, damp home turns into a place where the weather is literally “firestorm”. Still, all wasn’t bleak, despite having to resort to covering my windows in tinfoil like I was a conspiracy theorist doing interior design. During the truly medically terrifying heat wave, Silver gifted me with a few nights in hotel, coming to the rescue with his very typical eagerness. He is good to me that way. This was also a pretty major milestone for me to trust someone enough to let them give me something at that cost.
Then, when the border opened enough to no longer be astronomically expensive to visit, I took the chance to come down for two weeks.
Now I am belly down on his carpet beside a high balcony window in his apartment, watching him do something technical in coding, with the occasional cuss-sigh of a skilled tradesperson unknotting a thorny puzzle.
We’re both digesting leftover shepherd’s pie, lunch. He prepared that for me, homemade, a midwest casserole that sums him up pretty well, a mix of rich and modest, wagu beef and canned vegetables, layers hiding a blend of flavours. The prior week has been spent at his place too, where he was mostly on vacation. My Property is a teensy bit of a workaholic.
I am being spoiled, at least by my standards., were I better at a trad domme veneer, I would accept it as my due, instead of approaching it with a big eyed nervousness. I spent most of these last 4 months going to weekly therapy session after session, stacking up work on myself, and I am in peak self observation mode, catching that dissociation I apparently live with and essentially forcing myself to accept that I am very loved through letting him give me material and physical pleasure. The fruit of all this mental health time is also paying off otherwise, as my fractured attention span is slowly stretching to something less pathetically short. Meanwhile, this is the longest time we have spent together in person, ever. That’s also an adventure of its own.
Long Distance Relationships Are Exercises In Optimism
For all it’s been a year and a half, Silver and I have not been able to test some of the more important parts of a relationship’s foundation. Peace Arch picnics and video dates are wonderful, but they don’t tell the whole story. We have never had a chance to get over tired, blurt something out in the wrong tone, misread something, say no to someone’s plan, rain on a parade- hell if it weren’t for the copious pegging, we’d still border on that stag of dating where you pretend you both don’t poop.
This is how ldrs go, taking the early courtship phase and stretching it the whole time apart. Your lover sees you in posed, imitation of candid photos, video you have time to prepare for, dates at great effort. Phone calls are answered only after you clear your head of work grumbles. Even if you do get occasional visits, these moments together are still scarce, and you cherish them. With distance, you stay on your best behaviour, brushing away those normal impulses to return to our lazy, frazzled equilibriums. And, when you yearn, even the mundane in a relationship is shot through with special significance. It takes a certain positive lean to one’s imagination to handle being apart. One must see those gaps and the absence of things you don’t get to have in the best light- a text must be read in a friendly tone, a delay between phone calls laced with longing, not boredom. If you are the type who can’t do this, an ldr simply won’t work, but if you have the ability to see the person you love in the best light, ldrs can be some of the most passionate dynamics.
Romantic optimism leads to closeness very fast. Sharing happens, fast paced, often spilling out much faster in text or over a phone line. Rejection, with a buffer of space, doesn’t sting as much, making you bolder. And if you have that optimism to make it work, the other part is that you open up faster, letting the person see much of you intimate self. Here I am, know me, be with me.
And yet, optimism and effort isn’t evidence. Silver and I can’t just step forward without attending to the simple, the frazzled and casual. The best is easy to share, the other parts must fit too.
Watching Him Learn Me.
For Silver, this whole relationship is already a check list of first times. He had, to my knowledge, concluded that a bachelor’s life was his preference, before I appeared. To be tackled by a quick, engulfing love and mauled with flattery, and my desire to do unspeakable sexual acts to and with him is a midlife surprise. Nothing was built to expect a partner, lover, Mistress or what have you, but meticulously fitted to his own self care and independence.
And now I am here, in his carefully constructed space of solitude. He keeps his house spartan, not much in the way of art, but tidy and tasteful, masculine in the soft cream leather and glass top furniture sort of way. It’s a tour inside his mind; and being this long in his home is as intimate as any other penetration. Typically our relationship lets him do to excess in short bursts, delighting to discover he can charm, and can please me. Now he cannot.
The anxiety he has is a question: am I too much/is he enough?
Much is perfect. Our sexuality meshes in a lovely way. I am vulgar and enthusiastic, thrilled to thrust a finger up is ass and edge him in a possessive way, able to share the romantic enjoyment of a lingering gaze of my hand on his throat. He is an eager victim to my more elaborate ideas involving outfits, bondage and pain. Our bodies attract the other, such that our sexuality functions through our mutual lense of kink. Outside of the perverse, we share cultural collateral of being nerds, a certain shared idea of morality, and the idiosyncratic extras, like thinking Tesla are tacky, and that it’s endearing to animate a stuffed animal and speak through it.
And we both implicitly understand a need for space to relax, how even lovely ones can overwhelm and light can be loud as well as bright. My wound up, hard working love is a tight little thing that spins itself until straining, it cannot.
But, knowledge of ourselves or not, there’s that worry he has: can I handle the real him? The one that gets overwhelmed? That needs a huge amount of space? I can tell him “yes, duh” a thousand times, but it still has to be tested. Unspoken, but more important, his has to discover if he can give himself permission to be a person that gets overwhelmed by me. Does he want to live with the vulnerability of having to say no? Of being upset at me? It’s easier for both of us to try to be perfect than it is to not try.
I love him
For me, my experience makes it easier to step into an unknown space. Much as I learned how to kiss, or how to listen to someone’s rough day, I know how to be someone’s Person. But, for me, it’s very vulnerable, waiting patiently for him to examine and explore the me.
I sometimes terrorize him with the rationality I can approach things, telling him careful truths like: “do not be with me because you feel I am the only way to feel the good things I bring, be with me because you want the me specifically.”
The same talent/curse that lets me crawl out of my own head lets me look at the patterns of my life and others. I know what I want, an eventual “together” that lives in the same home, with the optimism that tries to conceive of “forever”. I also know from watching many patterns that I cannot coerce that to function just by desiring it. I could throw tantrums or push with big eyes, after all he wants to please me more than anything. But, I would not have him broken to fit, as I want to trust he goes where I wish because it is where we both want to be.
So, this visit is living with that, among the pleasure. He thoughtfully fetches me shortbreads and treats me to time at his luxurious gym. Gifts accumulate. And my metaphorical muscles put themselves into a ready crouch, expecting to dart away, hole up away from this to a “never again”. And then, because that is not healthy to live, I let that clench in my heart go, and settle back down into current comfort.
There is no use spoiling the now for fear the future might be more painful in contrast to the memory of the past.