Yesterday was supposed to be a very big day for me: I was supposed to (at least maybe) get my first orgasm in 445 days. My Sir and I had plans to go down to Voodoo in Colorado Springs and play. But, as per usual, the best laid plans of mice and men…
Due to circumstances entirely outside of his control, he had to cancel our plans. I knew that on Thursday, but I’d hoped to at least see him yesterday. Unfortunately, I found out yesterday morning that that was not going to be possible either. Neither of us were happy about this turn of events, but to salvage something of the day, he gave me a task:
Do 4 things I enjoy, and try to enjoy them twice as much – once for me, and once for him. (Because yesterday was not a fun day for him at all.) He said they didn’t have to be big things – it could be something as simple as watching the sun set. I did as I was told, of course, although it took me longer than expected to figure out just what four things I enjoy totally independently of him. It was an interesting exercise in realizing how intertwined my pleasure has become with his. But eventually, I came up with my four.
The first was one of those “small” things. I took some time to dress myself up and make myself feel pretty – red lipstick, favorite outfit, and heels (which I rarely wear because my knees suck, but I love how I look in them). I don’t do that often enough unless I’m going out somewhere, but it’s nice sometimes to do it “just because” – it makes me walk with my head held higher and a spring in my step. Plus, I knew that feeling of confidence would be carried with me for the rest of the day.
Next, I did some shopping for some fun things just for me, things I’ve wanted to buy for awhile but been putting off to prioritize more necessary things, or things for my kids. I bought new shoes, new jewelry, and a new purse. All red or black, of course!
And finally, I finished the day with two of my favorite things: dinner out and a movie with my daughter. (He’d told me I didn’t have to do all four things alone.) We tried a new restaurant for dinner, and it was truly delicious. Then we saw Pitch Perfect 3. As expected, it was not nearly as good as the first, but better than the second. But also as expected, there was fantastic music and we really enjoyed ourselves.
The day truly was magical, even though he wasn’t physically there with me. I’ve often thought before about how he is what I call my “default setting:” the moment my brain isn’t actively distracted by something else that requires my focus and attention (work, kids, etc), I find myself thinking about him. And I know that’s because even when I am actively distracted, he’s always hovering just below the surface, ready to pop through.
In fact, I truly feel as if I’m thinking of him at all times – it’s just more conscious sometimes than others. And yesterday, I found that he was on my brain at that conscious level more often even than usual (which is actually quite a lot!), as I made sure to draw every possible drop of joy and pleasure out of each moment. To be sure to enjoy it twice as much, for me and for him, as he had suggested. My every action and every thought felt suffused with him as I worked to keep him an ever present part of the experience.
Enjoying myself yesterday wasn’t the entirety of my task, though. As is often the case when I’ve been asked to do something he isn’t present for, he asks me to write him about it. (Such a shame I hate writing so much. :)) So this morning, as I drifted awake, I began reflecting about what I would put in my report. And the word I kept coming back to about how I felt was soft.
But soft doesn’t seem to make any logical sense, and I can’t explain it. However, the more I considered it, the more I realized that it does make some sort of intuitive sense. After all, we often describe people as “hard” when suggesting that they have a coldness and rigidity about them.
And when I think of him, and how he makes me feel – especially on a day like yesterday – I feel the exact opposite of those things. Not cold, but warm. Not rigid, but malleable. As if I could somehow melt into him. Or, perhaps more accurately, melt beneath him.
And I think that’s exactly how I should be. Warm – to spread my warmth, my joy, to him. Malleable – to offer no resistance as he molds and refines me into exactly what he needs me to be.
Soft.
There may be times when the rest of my world requires me to be hard, to wear steel armor to protect myself. But not with him. Never with him. For him, I will always be warm and malleable and…
Soft.
The Leather Mermaid 