“You’re a submissive for whoever you choose to be, when you choose to be. And that’s what makes being a Domme special as well, that someone has given all of that specifically to you.”

These are Electronic Doll’s words, in a response she made to one of Unspeakable Axe’s posts, and they cut me deep. They have made me realize what hurts so much about the current situation with Boy Toy: I feel as though he has chosen not to submit to me anymore, it is as if he has taken back what he had given specifically to me.

Maybe I just need a lesson in compartmentalization. Because I’ve come to kinda associate love with ownership. It’s makes what I had to say on the subject last September a little funny. Back then, I was a lot more hesitant with my affirmations about Boy Toy being my “sub”, or about admitting that we were D/s.

Damn these complicated somewhat D/s relationships!

Last week wasn’t exactly the best of times for me. It seems like I spent it feeling horrible, sad, lonely, sorry for myself, angry and resentful. I felt such animosity toward Boy Toy at some point, I’m not sure anymore if his being so busy with work was a good thing or a bad thing. I think if you asked him about last week, though, his account of it wouldn’t be nearly as bleak. I guess I had a major case of the crazy hormones (PMS). But I’m not sure all can be blamed on them… You know the situation.

Nothing has changed there. We still haven’t talked about it and it’s killing me. And everything is just so weird. Not that vanilla is that strange, it’s just that apparently, any rule or protocol we had is now out. For example, he used to have to make my coffee whenever I get up in the morning. At least on weekends; it just wasn’t practical on weekdays. Last Saturday morning, I got up and walked upstairs. He had already been up for a while, working. I groggily sat on the couch, trying to wake up properly. He came down to make himself an espresso and offered me one, but I wanted it with milk and there was none left. Maybe I’m just crazy, but it seems to me the “old” Boy Toy would have ran to the store next door to get milk. This one just said something like “Well, you can go get some milk.” I looked down at myself, still in a sweaty tank top and little shorts, hair an awful mess, and thought “What the hell is wrong with him?!” I obviously couldn’t get out of the house like that (to be fair, maybe this is one of those things boys don’t understand).

I was afraid to answer, being very grouchy, and to tell you the truth, I kinda thought the way I looked down at myself was answer enough. So he made himself an espresso… nothing for me. I was feeling more and more irritated. And hurt, too. Wasn’t he supposed to make me coffee? Anyway, I eventually said something pissy and he went to get milk but he was angry. When he finished making the coffee, he put it on the counter top, said “there you go” and went back to work upstairs. Cheerful, I tell you. Read the rest of this entry »