Not sure where I’m going with this, so just ride along with me if you will. I’m a bit scattered and my thoughts are going off in various directions.
As is often the case, I remain baffled by some of the ad replies I’m receiving. Not the CHoS types; I know what to do with those. I mean the ones that mystify in other ways. The ones that clearly have nothing to do with my ad(s). Or perhaps the ones that show interest, then back off when I show interest in return.
Recently I was contacted on FetLife by a local gentleman, a switch, who was quite articulate and interesting. He and I differed greatly on our ideas of bottoming and I hesitated to give any of my thoughts for fear of offending him, but he assured me that he would not take offense. We exchanged a few messages; he asked me if I might be a submissive, just not a masochist, and I said I do not identify with being a submissive because I’m too feisty. I can submit, but it has to be earned, and I liked tops who enjoyed and could work off a bit of witty provocation.
He wrote back, said I was a SAM, and any bottom who provoked him would end up in the corner with soap in her mouth, watching him spank someone else. Ouch. I wrote once again, saying I hadn’t intended to sound arrogant; that I don’t endeavor to seriously annoy anyone, I just like to be a bit playful, and this stuff is supposed to be fun, right? My message was earnest and completely non-snotty.
Never heard back.
Someone on Alt.com “winked” at me, so I thanked him for it. He wrote me a note, saying he’d like to talk, that he found me intriguing.
Intriguing. I hear that a lot. I’m not sure why, though.
Intrigue: to arouse the curiosity or interest of by unusual, new, or otherwise fascinating or compelling qualities; appeal strongly to; captivate
Am I really that unusual? That much of a curiosity? Why?
Anyway, I wrote back, asking what he found intriguing and would he like to tell me about himself.
Never heard back.
Same day, I got a message from a man with “daddy” in his screen name. Said he found me “interesting” and “complicated” and would love to talk. I looked up his profile; in it, he stressed how any partner of his must be into daddy/daughter play. I clearly state in my profile that I’m not looking for daddies or masters.
I replied, “Interesting, maybe. Complicated, definitely. And definitely not into anything to do with the daddy/daughter dynamic — sorry.”
Wait, there’s more. One more message, this time from a young couple, saying they read my profile and preferences and they’d love to play. Looked them up; they’re swingers, she’s bisexual, they’re seeking sex partners. Ummm… they read my profile? I don’t think so. Why do they even bother?
I’m just blowing off a little here; I know there aren’t any answers. I simply wonder about people sometimes, what motivates them, what they’re thinking. And if there’s something I’m doing or saying that draws them.
However, in the midst of all this, I did get one reply that might actually have some promise. Don’t want to say too much right now, as I’m afraid I’ll jinx it. We’ll see.
It was a strange weekend. J was very sweet, took me to a special dinner, but I could tell he was off his game. I think I might have told you that he finally, finally had a physical a couple of months ago, after my getting on his case about it. He asked the doc about why he’s so exhausted all the time. Well, duh… he barely sleeps. Not only because he works ungodly hours, but he has arthritis in his back and he can’t lie comfortably for more than a couple of hours, so he almost never gets any decent rest. She told him to start taking Tylenol, arthritis strength, at night before bed, so he could sleep better, because sleep deprivation is one of the reasons he gets sick all the time.
Did he buy any Tylenol? Nooooooo. The man is completely averse to taking any kind of medication. He has to be practically dying before he’ll take an aspirin.
So this weekend, I could tell he was in pain. I’d catch him wincing when he didn’t know I was looking. He couldn’t sit still. He thrashed around in his sleep. And by Sunday morning, he could barely move. That did it. I said, we’re going to Rite-Aid before we go to brunch and buying you some Tylenol, and you’re taking it. He didn’t argue. When J doesn’t argue, you know he’s in dire straits.
As soon as we arrived at the restaurant, I opened the bottle and took out two tablets, pushed them over to him. He hedged. “Don’t I have to eat first?” “No… not with Tylenol.” “Why do I have to take two?” “Two is the dose.” “What if just one works?” “I don’t care. Take both of them.” “But…” “TAKE THEM.”
He did. And as brunch progressed, I could see the transition… the glazed, pinched look left his face, his eyes took on their usual sparkle, he ate all his food and was back to his silly, jokey self. He sheepishly admitted that at the moment, his back was pain-free. Why did things have to get so far before he’d take those damn pills? What’s up with that? Is it a guy thing, or a J thing?
He teased me, said, “You’re going to make my life hell now, aren’t you, nagging me to take Tylenol?” Damn straight, honey.
Is this what getting older looks like? Ugh, ugh, ugh. Yeah, the age thing is on my mind this week, for obvious reasons.
J was so very kind — he gave me two books. I opened one of them, and found a sum of cash, crisp new bills, tucked into the end flap. He knew I’ve been worried about money… I started to cry. He also tucked several rolls of quarters into my suitcase, knowing I use them for laundry. What am I going to do with this man? This stubborn, wonderful, thoughtful, loving and maddening man? He makes my heart explode, truly he does.
Told you I was rambling and all over the place. I think I need to go work out.