Lost in Slumber
I think that part of me is sleeping.
It went to sleep, in part, when I told Tony the day he called a year after breaking up with me that I wouldn't talk to him. I think parts of it are buried just simply under the mountain loads of work-- homework and not, that I have heaped upon my plate (entirely of my own volition) and I find little time to indulge in extracurriculars, so she slumbers on.
But when I wander over to Deity's (warning, NSFW and non-vanilla link) writing, an erotic writer whom I admire as well as adore for his poetic talents (and not just intellectually...) And, still it lays dormant. And I hear a voice that isn't mine, but sounds much more like the mainstream reaction to Kink in general... and I realize that it's the same voice that reacted on occasion to CJ and often to J (and sadly for myself, didn't recognize Tony), that stepped in and interrupted whatever bdsm interplay might have happened otherwise.
I am perplexed. Where is this half of myself and why does it keep sleeping on me? I don't want it to hide any longer. (Or do I?) My mind's eye glances sidelong at these images half-remembered, and my gut is sluggish to respond. She is, I think, too tired to remember to be hungry without assistance from another mind and body that actually jives with me and doesn't inherently step on various emotional buttons.
Joe is great, but he is, for all of his adorable attributes, blissfully vanilla in most aspects. So our relationship, whatever shape it might eventually take, is just unlikely to evolve into one that incorporates this part of me. Which is fine, honestly. In fact you might say that it surprises me that I'm okay with this, maybe even a little unnerved, but so far I just like his company, straight and honest and just how it is rather than how I might shape it.
But I do feel like something is missing, and part of the sensation is just the lack of wanting this thing that is missing. And how weird does that fucking sound?
It went to sleep, in part, when I told Tony the day he called a year after breaking up with me that I wouldn't talk to him. I think parts of it are buried just simply under the mountain loads of work-- homework and not, that I have heaped upon my plate (entirely of my own volition) and I find little time to indulge in extracurriculars, so she slumbers on.
But when I wander over to Deity's (warning, NSFW and non-vanilla link) writing, an erotic writer whom I admire as well as adore for his poetic talents (and not just intellectually...) And, still it lays dormant. And I hear a voice that isn't mine, but sounds much more like the mainstream reaction to Kink in general... and I realize that it's the same voice that reacted on occasion to CJ and often to J (and sadly for myself, didn't recognize Tony), that stepped in and interrupted whatever bdsm interplay might have happened otherwise.
I am perplexed. Where is this half of myself and why does it keep sleeping on me? I don't want it to hide any longer. (Or do I?) My mind's eye glances sidelong at these images half-remembered, and my gut is sluggish to respond. She is, I think, too tired to remember to be hungry without assistance from another mind and body that actually jives with me and doesn't inherently step on various emotional buttons.
Joe is great, but he is, for all of his adorable attributes, blissfully vanilla in most aspects. So our relationship, whatever shape it might eventually take, is just unlikely to evolve into one that incorporates this part of me. Which is fine, honestly. In fact you might say that it surprises me that I'm okay with this, maybe even a little unnerved, but so far I just like his company, straight and honest and just how it is rather than how I might shape it.
But I do feel like something is missing, and part of the sensation is just the lack of wanting this thing that is missing. And how weird does that fucking sound?