…and that’s just what slaves do!
It’s always refreshing to start a post with a bit of slave humour, isn’t it?
My apologies for leaving everything in the lurch and disappearing for several days. I’ve been ill with some dreaded virus-cold-thing that turned me into the snot monster. I swear every time I get sick I’m just amazed with the amount of snot that my body produces. I mean, if my body can make something that gross, that quickly, in such ridiculous amounts, you’d think it could be a bit obliging and do something that is actually productive like speed up the old metabolism or something, but alas no.
So I’m sort of alive – thanks to the wonderful medications available over the counter with a driver’s license and a signed declaration that I’m not a drug dealer.
Remember that collar-coming-off-and-are-M-and-I-going-to-break-up-and-that-chick-spends-way-too-much-time-in-her-head-because-even-M-doesn’t-understand-her-blogs thing that I had going on? Well, it’s been solved.
There was a long discussion one afternoon a few days ago that involved several apologies, several realisations and several cases of really smelly gas being let off under the bed covers (because it was a really long discussion and we’d had beans the night before). As a result of that conversation we’ve decided to continue on our current path – with several course corrections and a bit of getting back to basics stuff.
I came to the realisation that because I’m an all or nothing girlie, if I’m not getting all the kit and caboodle associated with being a slave, then I’ve got no choice but to reject it. Well, not ‘reject’ it per se, maybe I was trying to force it all down into a space deep inside where I wouldn’t have to deal with little dribs and drabs of it. You know when you just get a tiny little bit of something good and it makes the cravings even worse? Yeah, well let me just say that I’m not satiated with minute rations of anything
M came to the realisation that I need a certain level of slave stuff in my life in order for me to justify to myself that I’m a slave. He also came to the conclusion that treating me as anything else is confusing and while a bit of spoiling and pampering is fine, too much is a bad thing. I came to the realisation that sometimes it’s hard for the owner to get into the right headspace too, so more using of the term “Master” instead of the usual “Sweetie-pumpkin-pie” is prudent – as is following the rules as set by said owner.
We both came to the conclusion that talking is good and that just because something is written in a blog for all to see, doesn’t mean that the person whom it is actually intended for understands what is written there. We also learned that not everything written in a blog is an expression of angst and moaning, but that it can actually be a cry for help of sorts.
There obviously was a lot more to the conversation, but that’s the gist of it for now (with a little bit of bonus bean-gas talk.)
So we’re sort of back into that Master/slave thing, but I’m not wearing the collar around my neck yet. Apparently it will go on at a later date. At the moment I’m thinking of the neck collar as a bit of a symbolic renewed commitment towards each other so I agree that neither of us is quite ready for that yet. We need to ease back into things and make sure that after spending so long on one side of the pendulum, that we find a happy balance in the middle instead of swinging back totally to the other extreme.
And that’s where we’re at.
I’ve done a lot of soul-searching and wandering around in the dark these past couple of weeks and it’s been….productive??….in the sense that I think it’s always good to re-evaluate your life and make sure that you’re heading in the direction that benefits you the most.
As they say, the unexplored life is not worth living.
Next time though, can someone send me a GPS?