More on that love thing

And the conversation continues across blog lines.

I began this post while watching Once Upon a Time.
Prince Charming.
Love at first sight.
All that.

It was not love at first sight with my demon muse.
Not even love at first message.
I laughed at his first message.
I laughed and was intrigued.
Intellectually stimulated.
Trapped, of course.
He knows how to do that.
He knew what I was and knew what bait to use.

But love?
It took me by surprise.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Thank you for the comments left here and on sin's original post, as well as to sin and others for their follow-up posts. This is an important topic to explore, and it's important to see the various perspectives.

Damn. 
Snow White just saved Prince Charming's life. 
I'm embarrassed by the warmth I feel and the tears that flow.

I know most of you didn't read the comments here, so I'll share and address them now. swan was the first. I can always count on her for an intelligent and analytical approach. Analytical and and incisive. You can read her own post on the topic over at her place. Part of her comment to my post was this:

I also think that it is hard to describe the sort of love that arises out of and alongside D/s because our culture is so attached to the fairy tale version of happily ever after treacle sweet imitation that the messy, difficult, rough and tumble of human animal emotion and attachment doesn't even have words most of the time... 

"it is hard to describe the sort of love" 

We have a word.
We use it as a convention.
Love.
We say it but we don't all mean the same thing.
And we can't really describe what we do mean.
What we do feel.

What I felt for the fiend,
what I called "love"
when it grabbed my head and forced me to look in its eyes,
was not what I felt for the philosopher,
which was not what I felt for ex-hubby #2,
which was not what I felt for ex-hubby #1
or for the woman who broke my silly, vulnerable heart.
And the love I felt for the sadist 3 years ago
was not the same as what I feel now.

I don't think I would ever have called it romantic love.

It is what it is.
Which does complicate the conversation.
I'm grateful that at least he knows what it is.
And accepts it.
Values it.
Appreciates it.
Even if he doesn't return it in the same currency.

Which brings us to Florida Dom's very valid question:

You explained the situation very well, but am curious how you are dealing with it. Is it difficult for you that he is holding back his love or do you accept that is the way it is?

The thing is, I don't experience it as holding back his love.
We are - all of us - what we are.
We feel what we feel.
We order our lives in a way that makes sense to us.
I know that I am important to him.
I know that I add to his life.
There is a connection...

And then there's this.

Between when we met and when everything fell apart, ex-hubby #2 and I were together for 20 years. I thought he loved me. He said he loved me. Hell, he married me! And never - never once in all those years - did I ever feel the kind of connection I have had, in all its various incarnations, with the sadist.

Never did I feel he was really thinking about me.
Never did I feel he really knew me.
Never did I feel he really cared about me.

Even at his most objectifying, the sadist has always made me feel more respected, more valued, and more treasured than my ex-husband ever did. Ever. Even during what were supposedly the good years.

The lack of the word "love" is trivial compared to that.

I'll come back to this. Meanwhile, do check out the full comments on yesterday's post, including a long one from mamacrow - who should not apologize for its length. Her input is welcome - and that post began with my own over-long comment on sin's original post - which you might want to read if you haven't already, as well as sin's follow-up post and with all the comments and sfp's post on the matter as well.

And please - do leave your thoughts here as well.
However long they may be.
I love the conversation.