Kiddy stuff

Master and I aren’t into age-play. While he may call me ‘girlie’ (among other things…:) ) on occasion, I’m not his baby girl and he’s certainly not my daddy. And although technically with the 19 year age gap and all, he could be my father, we’re just not interested in whiling away the afternoon with a nice session of colouring – not the kind that involves crayons at least.

Having said that, I do find myself subconsciously playing the child sometimes. I like to act cute and girlie and I’m even thinking that my penchant to be bratty is actually just me playing the rebellious kid. Pushing the boundaries can be fun if something edgy is involved, but when it’s simply me pushing the rules and testing how far Master’s patience will go, I can’t help thinking in retrospect that I’m doing nothing that an unruly child wouldn’t do to a parent. We’re two mature adults in a consensual kinky relationship, so why do I feel the need to act like he’s my father?

Just for the record, acting cute and like my IQ is fifty points lower than it actually is, is not something I’ve only started doing since I was a slave. While I was married, I certainly didn’t play the hard-assed career women. I was the woman with Hello Kitty hanging from my cell phone, a Tarepanda appointment book and who routinely handed bottles and jars over to my husband to open without even trying to open them myself because looking strong, independent and in control just wasn’t cute.

That’s kitty as salmon roe sushi in a kappa costume, in case you were wondering.

Tare=droopy. They  just droop everywhere.

(I still *heart*  cutesy characters,  but  don’t tell  anyone…)

So anyway, as I was saying, I’ve been thinking about the whole brat thing and wondering whether a disparity in power in a relationship automatically makes it resemble a parent/child relationship or whether subconsciously I try to make it into a parent/child relationship because I never really had a relationship with my father to begin with.

My father wasn’t abusive or anything like that, he was just emotionally stunted and never had a care-factor for my sister and I. I’m not sure whether he had trouble relating to us because we were girls and things would of been different if we were boys, but considering that I was (and still am) an attention/approval/interaction-needy soul, his total lack of conversation or interest was crushing to me as I was growing up and I’ve never forgiven him for it.

He’s trying to make an effort these days and while everyone else in my family thinks I should build a bridge, I can’t. It’s too little, too late and in my books, being ignored for 28 years doesn’t get erased by some half-assed efforts later in life.

Now that I’ve aired my emotional effluent and once again proven that people into kink are people with baggage, back to the question at hand, does being bratty put you behaviourally on par with a kid?

Well, I think you have to look at the motives behind the behaviour. I’m bratty to get attention or to ‘encourage’ Master to be tough with me or punish me. I’m generally bratty when there’s been no play for a while or when I have an itch that needs to be scratched. It’s a way for me to get the type of attention that I crave and while I’m generally a very good girl and hate to get into trouble, being punished gives me a stomach-churning thrill that is difficult to get otherwise.

I usually hate being treated like a kid. I also hate being treated like I’m stupid (when I’m not trying to be in a cutesy way). I’ve written before about the whole needing-permission-to-go-to-bed thing or having a set bed-time and how it makes me really, really angry because I feel like I’m being treated like a kid. It’s being treated like a kid in a bad way, not the he’s-taking-care-of-me-and-I-feel-protected-and-secure way of being treated like a kid and that difference is the key point behind the brat issue. I think the reason why people sometimes act bratty is so they can re-create a little bit of the parent-child relationship and specifically so that they feel loved and protected. I’m sure that not too many people want to re-visit the frustration of their childhood where they wanted to do things and couldn’t and had curfews, chores and rules a plenty, but most of us, I’m sure, want that feeling of no responsibility and where their parent loves and looks after them in the big, bad world.

I’m sure that some guys like their girls to be independent, ball-busting, leader-type folk, but I’ve always felt that most guys like their girls to be helpless damsels in distress that they can take under their wing and for whom they can be the white knight. And from my experience, batting my eyelashes and telling my man that he is big and strong works well for both of us.

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6 thoughts on “Kiddy stuff”

  1. I think guys want two things at once. They want a woman who is independent in the world yet dependent on them. At least that’s what my experience has been.

    I don’t think there’s anything wrong with wanting to be cute sometimes. Hey, if it makes you happy what should it matter? I’m a mom with plenty of responsibility but Totoro & Hello Kitty still make me smile.

    1. Mmmm…I also had a makkurokurosuke hanging from my cell phone (the fuzzy black things that are in Totoro)!

      That was a good point about guys wanting it all. But I suppose women want a strong, but sensitive guy; one who can wrestle a beastie, but who can also bring them flowers.

      Can we have our cake and eat it too?

  2. I actually get the joke with the Hello Kitty sushi – “kappa” means the turtle-like creature HK is dressed as, and “kappa maki” is a type of sushi which contains cucumber, probably named so because kappas supposedly love cucumbers, so… yeah.

    1. You get bonus points for understanding the joke 🙂

      There’s also a bit of a joke that HK is swimming around in the roe, which is like a sticky swamp where the kappa hang out.

  3. I love reading what you write.. You are a very good writer and express yourself well. It is just that you use the word “of” when you should be using the word “have”. But please.. keep on writing. xxoo

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