he didn't sleep well last night. at 4:30 in the morning he was up reading our blog. i'm sorry he didn't sleep well. he needs to sleep. i want him to get work done so he'll feel good about himself.
i'm afraid he'll start thinking he can't do anything right. not his career. not relationships. i can't speak to his career, but the relationship? grad school is hell on relationships. everyone knows that. but it's not a guaranteed killer.
i think he doesn't believe in me. he doesn't believe that i feel the things i say i do. he doesn't believe it's that good for me, he doesn't believe in that glowing ember i carry inside me. he doesn't believe it's that good even when i don't see him. and i wonder if he doesn't believe in himself, and that he could really make me feel that way. so obviously i'm delusional. on top of being afflicted by a 2-week hormonal cycle.
he's right that he was cowardly about not making clear how little visiting he could handle. it would have been hard. but it would have been easier. i've learned a lot about myself, exploring my submission. i do well when clear limits are set for me. i do well when i know where the edges of my cell are. i do well when i can feel the collar tight around my neck and the chains restraining me if i try to go past my boundaries. i wouldn't do well with one of those invisible fences. and i need to be scolded and beaten when i disobey. or when i complained. or when i had weepy tantrums. perhaps he felt too guilty to be that hard on me. i don't know. but i think if we could manage to go forward, that would be the way to do it.
it's odd, writing like this. it's not quite like before, when there wer some posts that i was writing directly for him and you all were just eavesdropping. now it's almost as if he's the one who is eavesdropping, hiding behind the tree as i speak. and i know he might be there. so yes, i've lost some freedom. i probably won't rant about some things i might have otherwise. i do want to protect his privacy, even though none of you have met him and only 2 of you have met me.
but i don't mind that he's reading. i feel better. less isolated. nash made a comment that it was sadistic of him to read after i'd asked him not to and he'd agreed. but i feel it as a gift. i know im on his mind, WE are on his mind, he hasn't just been able to turn it off. i feel that connection again, even just a little. and that makes me feel safer. no matter what happens.
meanwhile, i'm sleeping again. i'm still eating a lot less, but at least i'm eating fairly healthfully. i've lost weight. i'm a good 4 pounds less than when he first met me. i went back to the health club. i was horribly depressed, and they always say that exercising is good for depression, it produces all those endorphins - just like a good caning but without the welts - and endorphins are good for depression. i hadn't been in ages. now i've gone 3 days in a row. yeah, it doesn't sound like much, but for me that's pretty good. so i'm losing weight and starting to be able to hold my stomach in. and my hair is still growing.
and i'm not crying as much...
- - - - -
what are you wearing, kitten?
pink panties, sir...
pink panties and shorts
and a sleeveless purple top
and no bra so my nipples stick out.
i had stopped wearing pink panties.
i couldn't bear to.
i put them all away in the little square drawer
along with the white apron
and the nipple bells
and the 2 leashes
(because we each had bought one)
and the pink dog collar
and the choke chain that you
carried in your pocket for
days after you bought it.
but then i knew you'd been here
and then i felt you closer
and then it felt ok.
so i wore pink panties today.
and after i exercised
and after i showered
i regarded the drawer full of panties
and picked out some pink ones again.
but not the cute ones, sir.
i can't manage the cute ones.
but the pink ones made me smile
almost as much
as hearing the order
to wear none at all.
sleep well tonight, master.
please sleep well.
but if not, if you just can't.
you're always welcome here.
this blog is your home, too.
the door is always open
and i check our private e-mail
and the phone is always on.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Sunday, July 6, 2008
APB
MISSING: one tall red-headed Irish philosopher, since Tuesday night, July 1st.
LAST SEEN: July 6th, between 9:36 and 10:16 pm, lurking around the premises of the blog he once shared with one "slave kitten."
Any further sightings should be reported to the nearest black-leather clad member of the BDSM police patrol.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
he was here.
i know he was here.
he must know i know he was here.
he gave me back the password to my stats.
before we parted, my last requests:
don't read the blog.
give me back the password.
and yet.
he roamed around for 40 minutes,
reading the posts labeled "depression."
there have been more of them lately.
and crying. i know he
didn't want to deal with my crying.
i wanted to protect him from that.
i hoped he'd be relieved to be away from it all.
i don't want to be a distraction.
i don't want to think of him brooding.
ok. that's a lie. or a half lie.
part of me, the part that cares,
wants him to be fine.
but part of me, the part that cares,
wants him to miss me like hell.
or maybe he's just trying to figure out what went wrong.
or maybe he's reminding himself that i'm a pain to deal with.
maybe he just needs a few more days to settle down.
and maybe this idea was a big mistake.
or maybe i'm totally misinterpreting everything.
i clearly make a lot of mistakes.
i clearly made a lot of mistakes.
but if you see this...
and i want you to see this...
i'll make sure that you see this...
if you think this silence was stupid
(and sometimes i think it was stupid)
it's ok.
it's ok that you came by and read.
it's ok if you want to break the silence.
or if you just want to be able to stop by,
to stop by and read a while
stop by and walk among the butterflies
that's ok, too.
that's ok.
the door is always open.
LAST SEEN: July 6th, between 9:36 and 10:16 pm, lurking around the premises of the blog he once shared with one "slave kitten."
Any further sightings should be reported to the nearest black-leather clad member of the BDSM police patrol.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
he was here.
i know he was here.
he must know i know he was here.
he gave me back the password to my stats.
before we parted, my last requests:
don't read the blog.
give me back the password.
and yet.
he roamed around for 40 minutes,
reading the posts labeled "depression."
there have been more of them lately.
and crying. i know he
didn't want to deal with my crying.
i wanted to protect him from that.
i hoped he'd be relieved to be away from it all.
i don't want to be a distraction.
i don't want to think of him brooding.
ok. that's a lie. or a half lie.
part of me, the part that cares,
wants him to be fine.
but part of me, the part that cares,
wants him to miss me like hell.
or maybe he's just trying to figure out what went wrong.
or maybe he's reminding himself that i'm a pain to deal with.
maybe he just needs a few more days to settle down.
and maybe this idea was a big mistake.
or maybe i'm totally misinterpreting everything.
i clearly make a lot of mistakes.
i clearly made a lot of mistakes.
but if you see this...
and i want you to see this...
i'll make sure that you see this...
if you think this silence was stupid
(and sometimes i think it was stupid)
it's ok.
it's ok that you came by and read.
it's ok if you want to break the silence.
or if you just want to be able to stop by,
to stop by and read a while
stop by and walk among the butterflies
that's ok, too.
that's ok.
the door is always open.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Friday, July 4, 2008
Marko chaperones
From the first time we played with hot wax, around New Year's.
I have no idea why the laptop was on the bed.
I lay there... i think my hands were bound above my head but i don't remember for sure... i do remember looking up in his face as he stood above me, too cautious to drop the wax from any closer... afraid of burning me even as i wanted more pain... he watched the wax pool, waiting for just the right moment to tip the flame towards me.
his face was lit by the flame from the candle he held and the flames from the candles around the room. his face was consumed with the concentration of a scientist, watching for how i jumped when the wax hit, listening for my little cries. he should have had an assistant standing there with him, taking notes of my master's observations.
it didn't hurt all that much.
i wanted it to hurt more. the splashes
of heat mostly surprised me. and the ritual
delighted me. i wanted more.
eventually, i got more.
and from closer.
i want more.
i need more.
i need to feel the chain around my neck.
i need to feel the pull
the pull of invisible rope
the rope that he pulled from far away
the rope that bound us together.
i wish i knew.
i wish i knew what he is thinking right now.
i wish i knew if he shares my emptiness
or if all he feels
if all he feels
is relief.
i'm following the old rules as i wish.
i don't really know any more what i should do.
i'm a slave to my stats again.
i'm posting as i wish.
i'm considering wearing only
white panties until September 1st.
today i'm wearing white panties.
it hurts too much to wear the pink ones.
i have a drawer full of pink ones.
but i'm still wearing the chain around my ankle
that silly chain of paper clips that
says so much about
what we were...
and if i post a photo on a Friday,
it will still be of a cat.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
cum/NOT cum
maybe i need to torture myself since there is no one else to do it. or you can take this as a cute and kinky little amusement as a gift to my loyal readers so they won't run from my sighs and tears. anyway, please enjoy this bit of grammatical fantasy.
23 April 2007
- - - - - - - - - - -
All she can think about is cumming.
He has made sure of that.
He has tied her bound hands to the hook in the living room ceiling.
He stands before her, crop in hand, and grins sadistically.
He's been grinning sadistically for days now.
She is naked of course.
Naked and whimpering.
Her eyes are wet with tears.
Her cunt is wet, too.
He checked.
"Conjugate 'cum' for me, kitten."
"To cum." Her voice chokes.
"i cum.
You cum.
He, she, it cums.
We cum.
You'all cum." (She always conjugates as if in French.)
"They cum."
He flicks the crop at her ass.
"But no, kitten. That's not right, is it?"
He hits her ass again.
"Correct it!"
Her voice is somewhat petulant, somewhat angry, definitely weepy, and
very exhausted.
"i DON'T cum.
YOU cum!
He cums, it cums, but she doesn't cum. Oh no.
We don't cum. Not any more.
Only YOU cum. All by yourself."
"That's right, kitten."
Whack.
"Ouch!"
"I cum. You don't cum. Not unless I specifically allow it. Right?"
Whack.
"OW!! Yes, Master. You cum. i don't cum."
"And why would I keep you from cumming?"
"i don't know any more! WHY??!!" she wails.
Whack.
"Not the right answer. Try again, kitten."
"Because you can. To remind me that you can," she mumbles.
"And why can I?"
"Because my orgasms belong to you.
Because my cunt belongs to you."
"Go on..."
"Because i am your slave.
my body is yours.
my soul is yours.
i am yours to use as you wish.
i am yours, and i must obey."
Her downcast eyes land on the crotch of his jeans.
He has taken out his cock.
He strokes it as she goes through her catechism.
Her mouth waters.
Her cunt burns.
But then, it has been burning for days.
"Why are you my slave, kitten?"
"Because i want to be..." very softly.
"Why, kitten? Why do you want to be my slave?"
Pumping faster.
"because..." she is sobbing openly now.
"Who owns you, kitten?!"
"YOU own me, John!
YOU do!
You KNOW you do!"
He cums.
She doesn't.
23 April 2007
- - - - - - - - - - -
All she can think about is cumming.
He has made sure of that.
He has tied her bound hands to the hook in the living room ceiling.
He stands before her, crop in hand, and grins sadistically.
He's been grinning sadistically for days now.
She is naked of course.
Naked and whimpering.
Her eyes are wet with tears.
Her cunt is wet, too.
He checked.
"Conjugate 'cum' for me, kitten."
"To cum." Her voice chokes.
"i cum.
You cum.
He, she, it cums.
We cum.
You'all cum." (She always conjugates as if in French.)
"They cum."
He flicks the crop at her ass.
"But no, kitten. That's not right, is it?"
He hits her ass again.
"Correct it!"
Her voice is somewhat petulant, somewhat angry, definitely weepy, and
very exhausted.
"i DON'T cum.
YOU cum!
He cums, it cums, but she doesn't cum. Oh no.
We don't cum. Not any more.
Only YOU cum. All by yourself."
"That's right, kitten."
Whack.
"Ouch!"
"I cum. You don't cum. Not unless I specifically allow it. Right?"
Whack.
"OW!! Yes, Master. You cum. i don't cum."
"And why would I keep you from cumming?"
"i don't know any more! WHY??!!" she wails.
Whack.
"Not the right answer. Try again, kitten."
"Because you can. To remind me that you can," she mumbles.
"And why can I?"
"Because my orgasms belong to you.
Because my cunt belongs to you."
"Go on..."
"Because i am your slave.
my body is yours.
my soul is yours.
i am yours to use as you wish.
i am yours, and i must obey."
Her downcast eyes land on the crotch of his jeans.
He has taken out his cock.
He strokes it as she goes through her catechism.
Her mouth waters.
Her cunt burns.
But then, it has been burning for days.
"Why are you my slave, kitten?"
"Because i want to be..." very softly.
"Why, kitten? Why do you want to be my slave?"
Pumping faster.
"because..." she is sobbing openly now.
"Who owns you, kitten?!"
"YOU own me, John!
YOU do!
You KNOW you do!"
He cums.
She doesn't.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Waiting for the callus to form
or is it callous?
same difference.
a hardening.
i need to harden.
right now i just hurt.
last night, i didn't really cry.
i was being strong, focused.
i was into the plan which was
my idea, anyway.
why do i keep having these ideas?
why can't i recognize a lost cause when i see him?
last night i didn't cry.
today
today i cried.
i cried when i read mamacrow's
words. i painted a good picture didn't i?
"so secure, so joyful, so selfassured in the
love
you
and he
share."
did we?
did we share it?
i cried when the radio said it was 9 o'clock
and i wasn't making my wake-up call.
did he miss me then?
i cried when i opened my e-mail at work
and saw the
wake-up call reminder.
i cried when i deleted
"the entire occurrence".
he said he'd buy himself an alarm clock.
did he miss me?
there was no sleepy
"good morning, kitten"
caressing my ear.
i missed him, anyway.
i missed
him.
i didn't cry when i chose
which pink panties to wear.
but i struggled.
i rejected the cute ones.
i couldn't bear the sight of the cute ones.
i am no longer a cute kitten.
we are no longer a cute couple.
i didn't cry over the choice of earrings.
i struggled.
i picked the ones i call my
slave kitten earrings.
i picked them out of defiance.
but it feels strange to wear them.
i was grateful to be at work.
it kept me from crying all day.
i could have cried all day.
i hope he didn't sleep last night.
i hope he won't sleep tonight.
i hope he couldn't work all day.
can i care about me for now?
just about me?
will someone care about me?
my whole life i've never been loved.
not really.
why should i have thought i might be now?
he said:
I can't blame you for being lonely.
There's just nothing I can do about it.
You need to find someone who can.
right. i'll go to the boyfriend store.
the True Love Department.
i'm 59 years old.
even if i look to be 40 or so.
and he?
the new eligible bachelor come to town.
but he's right.
i've been defending him
i've been protecting him.
but no more.
watch this space
i'll haul out the skeletons.
he's not reading here.
i don't have to worry about hurting him
why should i worry about hurting him?
9 weeks.
9 weeks of silence.
and by the end...
will i hate him by the end?
will i be able to hate him?
i'm watching So You Think You Can Dance.
and it's making me cry.
same difference.
a hardening.
i need to harden.
right now i just hurt.
last night, i didn't really cry.
i was being strong, focused.
i was into the plan which was
my idea, anyway.
why do i keep having these ideas?
why can't i recognize a lost cause when i see him?
last night i didn't cry.
today
today i cried.
i cried when i read mamacrow's
words. i painted a good picture didn't i?
"so secure, so joyful, so selfassured in the
love
you
and he
share."
did we?
did we share it?
i cried when the radio said it was 9 o'clock
and i wasn't making my wake-up call.
did he miss me then?
i cried when i opened my e-mail at work
and saw the
wake-up call reminder.
i cried when i deleted
"the entire occurrence".
he said he'd buy himself an alarm clock.
did he miss me?
there was no sleepy
"good morning, kitten"
caressing my ear.
i missed him, anyway.
i missed
him.
i didn't cry when i chose
which pink panties to wear.
but i struggled.
i rejected the cute ones.
i couldn't bear the sight of the cute ones.
i am no longer a cute kitten.
we are no longer a cute couple.
i didn't cry over the choice of earrings.
i struggled.
i picked the ones i call my
slave kitten earrings.
i picked them out of defiance.
but it feels strange to wear them.
i was grateful to be at work.
it kept me from crying all day.
i could have cried all day.
i hope he didn't sleep last night.
i hope he won't sleep tonight.
i hope he couldn't work all day.
can i care about me for now?
just about me?
will someone care about me?
my whole life i've never been loved.
not really.
why should i have thought i might be now?
he said:
I can't blame you for being lonely.
There's just nothing I can do about it.
You need to find someone who can.
right. i'll go to the boyfriend store.
the True Love Department.
i'm 59 years old.
even if i look to be 40 or so.
and he?
the new eligible bachelor come to town.
but he's right.
i've been defending him
i've been protecting him.
but no more.
watch this space
i'll haul out the skeletons.
he's not reading here.
i don't have to worry about hurting him
why should i worry about hurting him?
9 weeks.
9 weeks of silence.
and by the end...
will i hate him by the end?
will i be able to hate him?
i'm watching So You Think You Can Dance.
and it's making me cry.
The Sounds of Silence
Tuesday, 1 July 2008
9:28 pm Eastern Dailylight Savings Time
from the philosopher's account in his own name
It was difficult hearing you read your latest post, and difficult reading it today. I didn't realize how craven I have been acting. And i reread older posts of yours, and found myself not liking the man you are describing. You are never nasty or insulting, but the picture that forms is not flattering. I didn't realize how secretive and petulant I have been. You constantly defend me. . . I just wish there wasn't so much to defend. I have not been treating you well.
You say that you have perhaps picked up on something, and I think you're right. You need more attention than I am willing or able to give you. The amount of contact we have had over the past year is about the level I have the energy for. I have been reluctant to put it this bluntly, but my cowardice is causing more harm than I realized.
After we spoke last night, I had the idea that your mood could be cured with one of our rituals. So i thought and thought about what would work. . .and nothing. I had no ideas. I didn't have the energy to come up with anything.
I'm not sure I can take another weepy phone call, but I can't blame you for being lonely. There's just nothing I can do about it. You need to find someone who can.
We knew there were risks with a long distance relationship, and it is hard on both of us. And this is not the first of my relationships that the dissertation has consumed.
The best we may be able to hope for is a friendly split where we don't wind up hating each other.
I will call you tonight.
- - - - - - -
i read it about 15 minutes later.
sitting on the toilet.
laptops have their advantages.
and i wrote:
i don't hate you.
i love you.
that's what it comes down to.
it would be a waste of posibilities to split up.
you don't have to let the dissertation destroy EVERY relationship you
try to have.
yes, i miss you. but because of the other relationships i've been
through, i value what we might have more perhaps than someone younger would.
don't devalue yourself. you're not a lost cause. i did know what i was
getting into and i'm sorry if i've been asking for more than you
promised.
you give me so much. there is nothing that needs to be cured. you make
me feel whole, even as i miss you. mostly i've just wanted you to be
and then the phone rang.
his nighttime phone calls often caught me on the toilet.
we talked.
i didn't cry.
we struggled.
maybe tonight i'll write out more of what we said.
for myself if nothing else.
we do like to document things.
i'm not ready to pull the plug.
maybe i'm postponing the inevitable.
probably.
much of the discussion wasn't new, though we went deeper than we ever have before. he went deeper. i'm Jewish. i'm all into psychology. he's Irish Catholic. he claims that's why he can't go into therapy, though his God and mine know that he needs it at least as much as i do.
actually, i've had plenty of therapy. what i need is the right medication. one of the most honest things that finally came out of him is that my mood swings have become too much for him. not that i haven't noticed. a while back my psychopharmacologist, who treats my SAD along with the ongoing emotional volatility caused by my permanent perimenopause, decided we should give me a diagnosis of bipolar disorder with depression. my response was - what difference does it make? the response: it's a question of how you treat it. so we tried a number of medications, the ones that wouldn't make me fatter or do even worse things to my blood pressure than all the other things i take. and they helped. for a few days. and then allergic reactions would kick in. so we gave up.
but lately i've been noticing they've been getting worse. pms every 2 weeks. and the philosopehr was right - every good time would be followed by a down. so i've been meaning to have a serious talk with her about it. in a week. a week from friday. a week from Independence Day.
yesterday was not Independence Day. it was Hiatus Day.
we talked. he talked. i talked. a lot. i do always talk too much. i think i got through to him on some things. he certainly got through to me. i was glad he told me the mood swings were too much. that my weepy spells were finally making him angry. he's supposed to be writing his dissertation and then i'd get all emotional on the phone and he'd end up losing hours or a day or so dealing with how he felt afterwards.
it's good he said that.
people in a relationship need to communicate.
i think he could see that he was projecting a lot of emotions on me that weren't mine.
but still.
i'm his best friend.
he is my best friend.
he doesn't really have friends
and doesn't want to lose this.
he thinks we can remain friends
perhaps
but without "the romantic part."
i don't want to give up.
i'm stubborn
and probably stupid
and probably kidding myself.
but when it is good...
he said when we are together
i don't have mood swings.
i said when we are together
he doesn't have insomnia.
i suppose if i keep writing the whole 2-hour conversation will dribble out but i'm not sure i want to. not right now. though one thing keeps crawling out. we talked about the dissertation. i said that his getting it done was always the focus, i knew that, i knew what i was getting into, our goal was for him to get it done.
and he said that was another problem.
i was someone else for him to disappoint.
i'm way ahead of him on this. at least consciously. i've long wondered whether one of the things that has kept him from finishing (along with the fact that yet another thing we have in common is ADD) is that part of hin doesn't want to finish. because when he finishes he goes on the job market. it's like a slave market. being in academia is like being in the military. you don't have much choice where you'll be sent. he would keep talking about the problems of a long-distance relationship. and how it would just get worse when he would likely have to move clear across the country. though we currently see (saw) each other so infrequently that i don't know how it could get much worse.
besides, i knew what was really bothering him wasn't being so far from me.
it was being so far from his family.
he's one of 8 kids.
his parents are still both alive.
they all live in and around the same city.
his siblings are his friends.
leaving the family - that would be the hard part.
so i'd already been thinking about this.
maybe he doesn't really want to finish.
because he doesn't really want to leave.
and perhaps he doesn't want a life of scholarly demands.
publish or perish.
the dissertation isn't the last paper he'll be saddled with.
there are jobs he could get without the PhD.
colleges that would be delighted with such a good teacher.
jobs closer to home.
closer to his family
not to mention to me.
if i still count.
he said he hadn't thought about it consciously
this option.
but underneath?
so i need to tame my mood swings
before they destroy me.
and he has to finish his dissertation
so he can get on with his life.
i do miss him.
but the hardest thing is the lack of clarity.
i need limits.
i need to see the fence
and know exactly where the gate is
and when it will be unlocked.
so.
finally.
we came to an agreement.
my idea.
no contact for the next 2 months.
nothing.
we will talk again on September 1st.
i suggested maybe we talk the week before,
with the option of seeing each other on September 1st.
but he vetoed that.
we'll talk on September 1st.
he'll send me a message to let me know when.
and then we'll see.
we'll see if i'm stable.
we'll see if he's done
or at least
progressed.
we'll see.
we'll see what's left.
i tried so hard.
i tried so hard to explain
to explain how i carry him inside me
i carry this glow which is what we have
which makes me strong
which makes me happy
which was the best thing i've ever had.
i've been so good
about not crying...
i can only be good so long
i'm crying now
just now
when i think of that glow inside me
he made me happier at
a distance
than anyone else
ANYONE ELSE
has
ever
made me at my side.
when we were together
there were no mood swings.
when we were together
he slept in peace.
so maybe we'll end up friends
and go back to talk of politics and theology.
and beyond that?
i'm not holding my breath
he needs to finish the dissertation
or else decide not to.
he needs to be at peace with himself
at least about that
if not about whatever other demons he has.
i need to vanquish my mood swings
before they vanquish me.
more than that?
who the hell knows.
there were last requests.
i asked that he not read my blog.
OUR blog.
but now surely my blog.
i need the outlet, i said.
he promised.
i asked for the password to my stats.
he agreed.
that would be his last e-mail.
mine would be the website
for a light box
for his SAD.
he had promised he would get one.
he has to start using it in August
or he'll be back in the Pit of Despair come winter.
he agreed.
we said we'd miss each other.
i do think he meant it.
and then we said goodbye
and then we hung up
and then i looked at my stats.
and my submission?
i realized i didn't ask about that. we weren't thinking in those terms, though he did say something about being a Dom and imposing decisions as a way to avoid... i'm not quite sure what.
but afterwards i thought... what about my rituals?
being naked to brush my teeth.
sleeping naked or in my slave shirt.
being naked to post to my blog
OUR BLOG.
i'll probably give up that one.
and the chain?
the chain of paper clips
worn around my ankle
to remind me
remind me
remind me that i'm his?
i didn't think to ask.
he didn't think to say.
we didn't break up.
we talked in real world words
and real world voices
we didn't use names
but our identities were our own.
still
he didn't say it
he didn't tell me
he didn't tell me to take it off.
so for now
for now
for now i haven't.
we'll see.
[i can't bear to go back and proofread this.
if i missed something along the way
it will have to stand.
at least for now.
and then
we'll see.]
9:28 pm Eastern Dailylight Savings Time
from the philosopher's account in his own name
It was difficult hearing you read your latest post, and difficult reading it today. I didn't realize how craven I have been acting. And i reread older posts of yours, and found myself not liking the man you are describing. You are never nasty or insulting, but the picture that forms is not flattering. I didn't realize how secretive and petulant I have been. You constantly defend me. . . I just wish there wasn't so much to defend. I have not been treating you well.
You say that you have perhaps picked up on something, and I think you're right. You need more attention than I am willing or able to give you. The amount of contact we have had over the past year is about the level I have the energy for. I have been reluctant to put it this bluntly, but my cowardice is causing more harm than I realized.
After we spoke last night, I had the idea that your mood could be cured with one of our rituals. So i thought and thought about what would work. . .and nothing. I had no ideas. I didn't have the energy to come up with anything.
I'm not sure I can take another weepy phone call, but I can't blame you for being lonely. There's just nothing I can do about it. You need to find someone who can.
We knew there were risks with a long distance relationship, and it is hard on both of us. And this is not the first of my relationships that the dissertation has consumed.
The best we may be able to hope for is a friendly split where we don't wind up hating each other.
I will call you tonight.
- - - - - - -
i read it about 15 minutes later.
sitting on the toilet.
laptops have their advantages.
and i wrote:
i don't hate you.
i love you.
that's what it comes down to.
it would be a waste of posibilities to split up.
you don't have to let the dissertation destroy EVERY relationship you
try to have.
yes, i miss you. but because of the other relationships i've been
through, i value what we might have more perhaps than someone younger would.
don't devalue yourself. you're not a lost cause. i did know what i was
getting into and i'm sorry if i've been asking for more than you
promised.
you give me so much. there is nothing that needs to be cured. you make
me feel whole, even as i miss you. mostly i've just wanted you to be
and then the phone rang.
his nighttime phone calls often caught me on the toilet.
we talked.
i didn't cry.
we struggled.
maybe tonight i'll write out more of what we said.
for myself if nothing else.
we do like to document things.
i'm not ready to pull the plug.
maybe i'm postponing the inevitable.
probably.
much of the discussion wasn't new, though we went deeper than we ever have before. he went deeper. i'm Jewish. i'm all into psychology. he's Irish Catholic. he claims that's why he can't go into therapy, though his God and mine know that he needs it at least as much as i do.
actually, i've had plenty of therapy. what i need is the right medication. one of the most honest things that finally came out of him is that my mood swings have become too much for him. not that i haven't noticed. a while back my psychopharmacologist, who treats my SAD along with the ongoing emotional volatility caused by my permanent perimenopause, decided we should give me a diagnosis of bipolar disorder with depression. my response was - what difference does it make? the response: it's a question of how you treat it. so we tried a number of medications, the ones that wouldn't make me fatter or do even worse things to my blood pressure than all the other things i take. and they helped. for a few days. and then allergic reactions would kick in. so we gave up.
but lately i've been noticing they've been getting worse. pms every 2 weeks. and the philosopehr was right - every good time would be followed by a down. so i've been meaning to have a serious talk with her about it. in a week. a week from friday. a week from Independence Day.
yesterday was not Independence Day. it was Hiatus Day.
we talked. he talked. i talked. a lot. i do always talk too much. i think i got through to him on some things. he certainly got through to me. i was glad he told me the mood swings were too much. that my weepy spells were finally making him angry. he's supposed to be writing his dissertation and then i'd get all emotional on the phone and he'd end up losing hours or a day or so dealing with how he felt afterwards.
it's good he said that.
people in a relationship need to communicate.
i think he could see that he was projecting a lot of emotions on me that weren't mine.
but still.
i'm his best friend.
he is my best friend.
he doesn't really have friends
and doesn't want to lose this.
he thinks we can remain friends
perhaps
but without "the romantic part."
i don't want to give up.
i'm stubborn
and probably stupid
and probably kidding myself.
but when it is good...
he said when we are together
i don't have mood swings.
i said when we are together
he doesn't have insomnia.
i suppose if i keep writing the whole 2-hour conversation will dribble out but i'm not sure i want to. not right now. though one thing keeps crawling out. we talked about the dissertation. i said that his getting it done was always the focus, i knew that, i knew what i was getting into, our goal was for him to get it done.
and he said that was another problem.
i was someone else for him to disappoint.
i'm way ahead of him on this. at least consciously. i've long wondered whether one of the things that has kept him from finishing (along with the fact that yet another thing we have in common is ADD) is that part of hin doesn't want to finish. because when he finishes he goes on the job market. it's like a slave market. being in academia is like being in the military. you don't have much choice where you'll be sent. he would keep talking about the problems of a long-distance relationship. and how it would just get worse when he would likely have to move clear across the country. though we currently see (saw) each other so infrequently that i don't know how it could get much worse.
besides, i knew what was really bothering him wasn't being so far from me.
it was being so far from his family.
he's one of 8 kids.
his parents are still both alive.
they all live in and around the same city.
his siblings are his friends.
leaving the family - that would be the hard part.
so i'd already been thinking about this.
maybe he doesn't really want to finish.
because he doesn't really want to leave.
and perhaps he doesn't want a life of scholarly demands.
publish or perish.
the dissertation isn't the last paper he'll be saddled with.
there are jobs he could get without the PhD.
colleges that would be delighted with such a good teacher.
jobs closer to home.
closer to his family
not to mention to me.
if i still count.
he said he hadn't thought about it consciously
this option.
but underneath?
so i need to tame my mood swings
before they destroy me.
and he has to finish his dissertation
so he can get on with his life.
i do miss him.
but the hardest thing is the lack of clarity.
i need limits.
i need to see the fence
and know exactly where the gate is
and when it will be unlocked.
so.
finally.
we came to an agreement.
my idea.
no contact for the next 2 months.
nothing.
we will talk again on September 1st.
i suggested maybe we talk the week before,
with the option of seeing each other on September 1st.
but he vetoed that.
we'll talk on September 1st.
he'll send me a message to let me know when.
and then we'll see.
we'll see if i'm stable.
we'll see if he's done
or at least
progressed.
we'll see.
we'll see what's left.
i tried so hard.
i tried so hard to explain
to explain how i carry him inside me
i carry this glow which is what we have
which makes me strong
which makes me happy
which was the best thing i've ever had.
i've been so good
about not crying...
i can only be good so long
i'm crying now
just now
when i think of that glow inside me
he made me happier at
a distance
than anyone else
ANYONE ELSE
has
ever
made me at my side.
when we were together
there were no mood swings.
when we were together
he slept in peace.
so maybe we'll end up friends
and go back to talk of politics and theology.
and beyond that?
i'm not holding my breath
he needs to finish the dissertation
or else decide not to.
he needs to be at peace with himself
at least about that
if not about whatever other demons he has.
i need to vanquish my mood swings
before they vanquish me.
more than that?
who the hell knows.
there were last requests.
i asked that he not read my blog.
OUR blog.
but now surely my blog.
i need the outlet, i said.
he promised.
i asked for the password to my stats.
he agreed.
that would be his last e-mail.
mine would be the website
for a light box
for his SAD.
he had promised he would get one.
he has to start using it in August
or he'll be back in the Pit of Despair come winter.
he agreed.
we said we'd miss each other.
i do think he meant it.
and then we said goodbye
and then we hung up
and then i looked at my stats.
and my submission?
i realized i didn't ask about that. we weren't thinking in those terms, though he did say something about being a Dom and imposing decisions as a way to avoid... i'm not quite sure what.
but afterwards i thought... what about my rituals?
being naked to brush my teeth.
sleeping naked or in my slave shirt.
being naked to post to my blog
OUR BLOG.
i'll probably give up that one.
and the chain?
the chain of paper clips
worn around my ankle
to remind me
remind me
remind me that i'm his?
i didn't think to ask.
he didn't think to say.
we didn't break up.
we talked in real world words
and real world voices
we didn't use names
but our identities were our own.
still
he didn't say it
he didn't tell me
he didn't tell me to take it off.
so for now
for now
for now i haven't.
we'll see.
[i can't bear to go back and proofread this.
if i missed something along the way
it will have to stand.
at least for now.
and then
we'll see.]
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