TL;DR

What is it about a fresh start that makes me seek out the familiar company of previous lives led? It's akin to listening to that same song over and over and over again, the song which has had its shine dulled but will never lose its intrinsic hold on my heart. 

I'm lonely in this big, empty place.

Well, one of those statements is true. My new place isn't really all that large, nor is it empty. I brought a lot of reminders from my past with me and they're here to keep me company as I transition into being more comfortable alone. 

In the past month my life has been upended and I'm beginning to put everything in its place. I left my partner of five years and began transitioning into a new role at work. In my move there were some things I lost, but I think I'll gain much more in my independence. 

The hardest part of this change is losing the ability to communicate with the person who led me to this lifestyle. I met him when my partner and I decided to call it quits. At first he was a casual acquaintance, someone who I could talk with easily and never felt as if we had a forced conversation. I don't quite remember how or when we opened up to each other with our lustful fantasies, but when we did there was no turning back. The time I had with him was brief, but I was introduced to images and feelings I had never experienced. I want desperately to share what I'm going through now with him, but as I am shaping a new life for myself he is trying to rebuild his. Sadly, there's not room for me to be that comforting distraction in his life.

So, as I face these changes, feeling alone with only my cat by my side, I'm reminded of the countless people who have crossed my path in this life. I'm amazed by the number of people who have come and gone, and shocked by the people who still hold active roles in my life. I hope that I can find someone new to support and lean on. Someone to trust and build with. 

In all honesty, right now I just want someone to pull my hair and say those things that have been left unsaid for far too long. 

That's why I'm back tonight, trying in vain to relay my thoughts. And that's why I'M IN A GLASS CASE OF EMOTION.

To new beginnings, friends. 

I wake up today refreshed and excited. Some news I've been waiting on has finally come to me and it signifies the end of a chapter in my life.

I have a date that I'll be moving now and I simply cannot wait to start fresh. Just me and my cat and whatever thoughts I want to have. 

I'm going to have bathroom dance parties and only wash the dishes that I use. The only snores I hear will be from my kittens cute little face. THE THERMOSTAT IS MINE. 

I'm excited to regain my independence, my own identity. I'm enthralled, actually. I can explore my thoughts and feelings in my own space. I can play creatively, and "play" "creatively." (Wink,wink. Nudge, nudge.) 

This signifies so much more than my independence, it puts me that much closer to realizing my yearnings and cravings. In my strength is where I'll find the ability to submit, honestly, purely and without reservation. 

Since I began to acknowledge my desires I've only been staring at the steep incline ahead of me, afraid to start alone and afraid to ask for help. Coming here has been a step in the right direction, a place that is giving me the tools to make the climb and friendly advice as I prepare for my journey. I still feel like I'm ill equipped to make it alone, but that's why I seek the companionship I do. I want to stare down from the apex and sigh with contentment as I see all that is left beneath me. I want to stand next to the man that took the journey with me and led me when I couldn't make the next step on my own.

Cheers to fresh starts. Cheers to goals. Cheers to the little distractions that get us through the trickier times.

In trying to manage my expectations I find I need to, hmmm, how should I say?

Check myself before I wreck myself?

I cannot expect Adonis to manifest without presenting myself as Aphrodite.

But I will never be Aphrodite. I can improve myself, take photos in flattering light and angles, but none of that will hide my imperfections for long. I'll hide pieces of myself and blame it on insecurity.

Because of my job, my body type, and my personal proclivities I will never be the hypersexualized female. I have tomboyish tendencies and put priority on so many other things before fashion and the feminine form. I enjoy my body and my appearance well enough, but I fear that in this community there is a large emphasis on the femininity of a submissive. I do not fit that mold and am reluctant to change myself to conform to it. I want to feel sexy, desired and even gasp when I see myself in a dress, but those changes seem distant in comparison to other life decisions taking place.

I realize, of course, that there are bits of everyone that need improvement. In such an environment as this it's difficult to put stock into things other than appearance. It happens in my personal and professional life, as I'm sure it happens in the lives of others. Discriminating tastes, or discrimination in general can lead to false pretenses, misunderstood intentions, unjustified stereotypes and more than the simple phrase "hurt feelings."

I should also check my priviledge right here: a common phrase, but one that always needs to be addressed. I've done my share of judging others based on appearance. There's another common phrase uttered in the close circle I keep:

"Stereotyping is efficient."

It's a timesaver, being able to write someone off based on apperance alone. I understand the hypocritical nature of this post. Bear with me...

There's no such thing as a second impression. You may not be everyone's cup of tea. There's plenty of fish in the ocean---

Cliche. Overused. Often untrue.

Perhaps my naivety is showing again, perhaps I feel justified in thinking I deserve things I simply do not. Perhaps I really am that out of touch with this culture, let alone any cultural norms.

In navigating this sea I only find myself more and more in need of a map and manual. I'm not lost, I know where I am, but if I move from this spot I may just drown in my attempts to stay afloat in the tempestuous waters. 

So I'll wait here a bit longer, and watch the world move around me. I'll take in and glean what I can from the bombardment of stimuli I face. I'll return to my own comforts and occasionally raise my white flag and blow my smoke signals asking for help and guidance. 

My sensuality will lay dormant and surface in small ways. The gentle touch of luxurious fabrics, the small circles I will trace along my own skin and the images I will conjure will be my company. I'll gladly take and appreciate what is offered to me; tastes and temptations, urges and undeserved flattery. I will reciprocate, but I cannot lead myself from this position, not into these uncharted waters. 

I understand that I ask for more than others might, that I am a risk to take on. I understand that no one, not even I can guarantee a happy ending to all of this. 

But I also understand this:

Some risks pay off in the end. The calculated, thoughtfully executed risks can have great rewards.

Patience, Moxie... patience.

But I will dive in, head first, when the time is right. 

Obligatory post script: 

I'm overusing the water metaphor. I get it. You get it. It's got to be a subconscious thing. I'm thirsty in a sea of water around me, I feel overwhelmed, and I've been so goddamned wet lately thinking about the potential of this lifestyle. 

I've found myself revisiting older conversations, letting their words retrace lines in my head and pool together to incite a familiar ache. I hear clearly the words I want to be spoken aloud:

Longing.

Lustfully.

Lasting.

Lobes.

Lips.

Lascivious.

Lingering.

Lightly.

Lick.

Lap.

Limit.

Legs.

Listfully.

Langour.

Each delicate 'elle' rolls in my head and causes slight and small waves when placed next to another word.

I hear naughtier words yet. The words name, curtly, the pieces of me I want to give, the pieces of you I want to take. Their cacophonous resonance is akin to a slap on the cheek, and when I hear their sounds in my head it stimulates and excites me. Those words send ripples through the pools of wetness growing in my mind, each one thrown like a stone that splashes into the water.

Then we get to the verbs. Those delicious, delectable verbs that whet my appetite and mark my cravings as frenetic. Insatiable desires find their way to the waters of my mind, now choppy and tempestuous. Each word accompanied by its action, creating an image that is liable to drown in the sea of thought unless I can focus on it long enough to actualize and fully imagine it. 

I've learned a thing or two, sometimes it's not what you say, but how you say it. It's the brushstrokes of communication, the pictures that we paint with our words that will allow another to see, to feel, to taste our intentions and yearnings. 

But, as mentioned above, personal interpretation is half of the fun. 😘😘

There was a brief period of time in my life where the anticipation of flying didn't send me into a panic. I'm not saying that I fear flying, not at all, but each time I travel across the country my brain starts a series of what-ifs the moment my ticket is booked.

My Grandfater retired from his career as a commercial pilot when I was a child. I was never able to fly on a plane piloted by my Grandfather, but he did accompany us on a trip or two. He would explain some of the intricacies of the plane, tell us how many times he had flown something just like it, and put my young mind to wonder just how we could fly higher than the birds. He would introduce us the Captain and his Co-pilot and I would get those little plastic wings, the ones they give to screaming children when their ears won't release pressure. It gave me a sense of connection to the crew and made me feel like they truly cared about my safety. 

Even after our vacations together as a family came to a natural end, I found myself spirited away by the urge to travel across the country. My most memorable trip was my first vacation alone, six days in Chicago to meet a friend for the first time. I was ecstatic. I booked my flight and couldn't stop thinking about how wonderful it would be to finally meet this man face to face. 

My anxiety began to grow in the airport, I was flying standby on a holiday weekend. Each plane was booked solid and I must have waited there for ten hours before finally getting told I could board the next flight. With my discman dead (yes, pre mp3 player...) I had no distraction to occupy my time with. Fortunately, the planes still had a small jack that a person could plug their headphones into to hear free inflight entertainment. There were a few channels available, but nothing piqued my interest, I couldn't very well sleep as I was budding with anticipation, so I sat, and just sat; bored and my thoughts reeling.

Midway through the flight the plane hit some very turbulent patches in its path. There were lights that told us to return to our seats and fasten our seatbelts, and a few announcements about the rough patches of air at the altitude we were at. I plugged my headphones back in and found the one station that I could listen to, the pilot's station.

That station then and there put every fear I had at ease. I was able to listen to the two men communicate about altitude and speed. There were other captains of other planes on the station giving tips as to which height provided the smoothest ride for passengers like myself. They spoke with the control tower and asked permission to change their course. I was enchanted hearing the dialog that I barely understood. They spoke so concisely, so directly and with such authority that any fear I had of a silly little air pocket diminished. 

I don't remember when they stopped allowing passengers listen to the chatter between pilots and the control towers below, I imagine it was sometime after 2001. But each time I flew from my trip to Chicago until the service was no longer available I loved to listen in to the pilots' exchanges. Their expert maneuvering and professionalism provided me with such comfort that I could forget my anxiety and relax.

It's no wonder really that these memories are flooding my mind right now. As I begin my search to find a Dominant counterpart I've tried to recall what makes that relationship appealing to me. And right now, my life is full of air pockets. 

I'm in the midst of a career change and still trying to find complete release from a passionless, loveless relationship. I'm facing inconsistency and disappointment from people whom I've put my trust into. I'm about to live on my own again for the first time in years. I'm slightly more than anxious about the whole affair. 

I'm trying to maintain my own control, my own steady pace, and so far it seems I've kept my course. I would be nice, however, to hear those concise, direct and comforting words to reassure me that I will indeed land at my destination safely and in the hands of someone I can trust. 

And if needed, I can leave my baggage at the claim, though I'd rather have a safe place to unpack it.

Cheers.

Here's to a healthy and happy return to this; an environment that inspires all types of feelings and harbors all kinds of intentions.

I stepped away for a little while after entering into some conversations that didn't turn out the way either party had envisioned. While I appreciate the discourse, there was a lot left to be desired (from both parties, I am sure.)

While away, I spoke at length with the person who led me to this lifestyle. I was able to ask him the kinds of questions I wish I would have asked straight away. 

The most important take away from all of it was this: exclusivity means more to me than it does many other potential partners. When I give, I give completely. I find myself wanting to share not only my lust, but pieces of me, of myself that I give to no one else. 

Now don't get me wrong, I came to this forum for a reason, a very sensual and lascivious reason. There are positions and roles that I long for, I want to be taken and controlled and instructed. But I also want to be cultivated, cared for, and appreciated more than any other thing. I understand that this is a delicate balance, and both sides have to be earned through trust, cooperation and, above all, communication.

I understand now that my profile may be misleading. I am not an easy case to crack. I require daily care, compassion, and the same kind of patience that you (or whomever) would ask of me. 

So... if you've made it here, this is my offer:

In exchange for my devotion I ask for yours. While I submit to only you, I ask that you enrich and develop only me.

In exchange for my time and attention I would ask for yours. Understand that there are times when your [please, name me, Sir] may need you. Each time that you call upon me I will answer dutifully. Please, please don't make me beg for your attention unless it is a refined method of yours.

In exchange for my willingness and dedication in title and role I ask for intuition and deliberation in yours. I can promise that I will fulfill my end of the bargain, I am loyal to a fault. I want you to be mindful in yours.

It seems like a lot after I write it. 

Maybe it is. But what I offer is also something of great value. 

It's with these thoughts that I write tonight. Again I find the familiar cravings and yearnings to be be instructed, to beg and to feel sensation take over my body. And again, I have to remind myself inside that body is a mind and a heart which very much need to feel appreciated and respected. 

What a strange balance. 

After my first two weeks here I have seen a myriad of intention. I have not actively sought out many conversations of my own, but I was ready to respond to just about any inquiry sent my way. To those of you whom I spoke with, thank you for your time. It's time that will never come back to either of us. However, there are obviously things that shouldnt be forced. If we stopped talking our intentions didn't align. I am trying to be as transparent as I can here, as honest and as willing as I can be. Please don't come to me with only crude or distasteful intentions. Let's get to know each other first...😉😘

If there is any insight anyone can offer, I am open to discuss these thoughts. Again, note that I am a novice in the community. My intentions and desires are becoming more clear with each pass, but I fear that without interaction I will learn nothing.

Cheers.

Obligatory post script

I am updating my profile to include the following words/phrases: confused, novice, INFP, dreamer, schemer. Also, I would have chosen The Opera Ghost over Raul any day.

I may not be a connoisseur, but I once applied to work in a comic shop. I remember the faces of the men, the many men who wanted to humiliate and degrade me for my lack of understanding when it came to living in  "their" world. At the time I was nineteen, living with a boyfriend who held a stash of rare comics in his parent's basement and because we were both privy to the works of Kevin Smith I felt like I could slide my way into the nerdom that they held so highly. 

I was obviously wrong. The men who took pride in their knowledge of the color number of a superheroe's suit in issue x limited print made sure that I would never know the rules to be part of their fraternity, unless I walked through the same gauntlet they did for their entire lives. 

I could never have understood where they were coming from, my upbringing was so different. I was raised in a much different way than they were. I still craved the knowledge they had, and I wanted to peddle the stories that may have helped shape minds like my own. 

When this happened I was working at a record shop. I should say CD store, I could say music store, but nothing holds the place in my heart like record shop. In that job I knew some of the boundaries. Music was more of a communal experience. One where people could show little understanding to its details, but still enjoy the message it brought. I would happily walk someone through the myriad of what I considered to be tasteful and thoughtful music. Don't get me wrong, in that role I absolutely played the counter-jockey who could judge a person based on their inclinations to one sound versus another. It was after I applied at the comic shop that I quit my job there. I realized that I shouldn't be the one who decides what songs to another person's soul.

These small musings are where I find myself tonight. Two days fully in to my experience here, I think about my past experiences and the judgements I experienced; judgements I held against people seeking a truth they had yet to hear and judgements against me from others who  had attained knowledge and shunned me for not taking meticulous notes. 

So, back to Heath Ledger...

I can at least consider myself a Batman fan. I'm sure there are some people who find Selina Kyle sexier than I do, but which iteration, I don't know?🤔🤔 When I look at the body of Jokers that we have been fortunate enough to see the one that strikes me profoundly is his.

Why.  So.  Serious.

It could be that his role was impactful because of his untimely death. It could be that no matter how much I love Jack Nicholson, I found Ledger to be more attractive. It may have had something to do with my proximity to the tragedy that struck at the time of the movie's release. It could be the way Nolan gave depth and darkness to his character that I was unfamiliar with until then.

But when I think about it, the words "why so serious?" can take me down a notch, in a very distinct way, and help me realize my fascination for what it is. 

Or, maybe, it could be that this was a headline to help you get this far...

I can't say "As Always" yet, but I look forward to contuning my musings here. I welcome any discourse from like-minded individuals.