I care a lot about people. All I want is for people to care about me in the same way and honestly, I don’t think that’s too much to ask for. Sometimes I care too much, I do too much. I go out of my way to make sure the people I care about are happy and comfortable even when sometimes they don’t really deserve it. And what do I get out of it? Very little is the answer. I throw money at people even when I don’t have it to spare, I throw time at people even though I can’t even find any to do things for ME, and I go above and beyond (I think) for the people who mean the most to me. All I ask in return is that I’m listened to, treated with respect, and not screwed over in the process. If I’m your friend, I’m a serious friend so godammit, take me seriously.
It’s time for me to tell you the story of what happened with The Dom. If I’m honest I knew it would end in disaster. Everything about it made me feel uncomfortable right from the start. I went along with it all anyway, letting him persuade me that eventually I would change how I feel. Eventually, him reading the blog wouldn’t be the biggest deal in the world. It wouldn’t stop me saying the things I wanted to say or writing the things I needed to get out of me.
But the way I felt, that never changed. In fact, I think it got worse. The more we indulged in our naughty, late night D/s sessions, the more I started to feel for him and the more I wanted to pull away. I tried to be honest with him but he made it really difficult and at times, I’m sure he played on the fact I felt guilty about having two men ‘on the go’ as it were.
When I slept with The Director, he was distraught. He hated me for what I did. He blocked me, sent me angry messages, got upset, refused to talk to me, all that crap. When I realised how much I’d really hurt that man, I made a conscious effort to never be that bitch again. I wouldn’t ever want to cause someone harm or hurt. That’s not what I’m about. So I started cutting the complicated line of men out of my life, blocking and deleting them one by one.
You fucked me over, I’m mad about it, delete, block.
As much as I wasn’t sure of my feelings or my intentions with The Dom, I knew hurting his feelings wasn’t the answer so I stopped everything. With everyone. Because I respect him. Because I care about him. Because he means a lot to me.
Did he show me the same respect? No. Of course he fucking didn’t.
I told him to NOT wait for me, to go do his thing, whatever he needed to do. I also told him I did not and could not listen to any of it. I’m a woman. I’m emotional. I have feelings, pride, dignity. I can’t listen to someone I care about and have feelings for, someone who I’m very sexually attracted to, tell me about their tales of sordid sex with another woman.
Sorry, no. What do you think I am? A robot?
I’M A WOMAN!
Did he seriously not think those words would hurt me when he started to tell me how much fun he’d had when he accidentally fell inside and fucked her? Did he seriously not think it wouldn’t hurt me when he started to tell me about how “kiiiinky” she was? Is he nuts? Why do men talk to me like this? At the start of any relationship, no matter what it ends up being, I make damn sure the man in my life knows I’m territorial. Not jealous, territorial. The Dom knew this. So…. Why’s he trying to tell me about having sex with someone else? I told him it would upset me. He knew it would, he knows me enough.
He doesn’t listen. I’m disposable to him too. I did my own stalking and I realised I’m one of a long line of blogging girlies, often with the same crazy-coloured hair, same quirky ways, same little secret, sneaky obsession with the D/s life. I’m just one in a long line. I’m not special, I’m not important to him… I’m just important for right now. Soon I’ll just be another photo in a camera roll of women he doesn’t really talk to anymore.
He’s never listened to me and for that, he’s never respected me. When I told him not to push, he pushed. He pushed his feelings on me even though I’d asked him not to, even though I told him I wasn’t ready for it. He pushed for the first meeting even though I told him I wasn’t ready, that it didn’t feel right yet. He pushed for the first phone call, the phone sex, the D/s stuff, all of it. He pushed and pushed and pushed. He pushed himself into my life, backed me into a corner, and then he basically outed me to my friends. There was a reason my ‘anonymous blog life’ and my ‘real life’ are separate and he’s proven my point spectacularly.
I was right about all of this, about him, right from the beginning yet I didn’t trust my gut instincts. Instead I chose to do directly the opposite of what I wanted to do, often getting carried away with whatever was happening at the time. I knew crossing a man from blog-life to real-life would be a bad idea yet I did it anyway. I’ve learned my lesson now. 100%
I’m sad to be saying goodbye to The Dom, The Director, all of them because these were all people I cared about. But there needs to be a line drawn doesn’t there? I can’t give and give and give and never get anything back. If the people in my life aren’t even listening to me, going as far as to do the exact opposite of what I’m asking, seemingly provoking a reaction from me, surely they shouldn’t be in my life? Surely they deserve the cull – that delete and block treatment?
I don’t know why he felt the need to start talking about that shit with me but I can tell you this, I can’t listen to it. I have a heart and it’s been battered enough by men that just didn’t give a shit about me. I don’t think he’s one of them but I don’t think he’s a good guy to have around regardless. He’s like a drug. Even as I type this now, I feel a little withdrawal for him. Those secret late-night phone calls, him telling me what to do, me doing it begrudgingly but secretly fucking loving it… But what happens afterwards? I’m confused, dazed, fucked up. I actually long for him, my body actually wants to be next to his body… But then I go right back to remembering he can read my blog and see inside my head anytime he wants. That’s round about the time I start to go nuts again. It’s a cycle that keeps repeating itself. One of us has got to break it… Right?
So I did. He keeps messaging me. I keep wanting to message back. But I don’t. He made his point when he started talking about fucking someone else. I’m making my point now. Don’t listen to me, don’t have my friendship. Simples.