Yesterday, as I was perusing the Book of Face, I came across a post made by one of the pages I follow. This is the picture posted, along with the caption written by the moderator of the page and the link to the site where she got the picture.
Since it won’t let me post the link in the caption, you can find it here and read the article for yourself, should you decide to.
Now this was a bit surprising, because this page is primarily a comedy page focusing on the funny, more inappropriate things about parenthood (Like, “How to tell if your kid dances to the beat of his own drum, or is just an asshole”). But I was about to keep scrolling when I noticed over a hundred comments on the picture, when most pictures barely hit fifty, I decided to take a look.
I shouldn’t have. I really shouldn’t have.
Because of course, the angry and easily-offended reared their heads, talking about, “I never make my husband’s plate. His legs work just fine.” And, “I’m no one’s maid.” And all kinds of crap that just made me shake my head and laugh.
I followed the link and read the article, realizing that it’s written by a Christian woman, describing a Christian marriage. But even with that, there was nothing there I found offensive or even mildly upsetting.
I consider myself a leader, in every aspect of my life. That’s just my natural personality.
I learned to be a Dominant from a man I respected and admired more than anyone else, and he heartily disapproved of the way I treated my subs when I was angry or annoyed back then. He said, “True leaders have a servant’s heart.”
I didn’t want to hear it, I recognized the “servant’s heart” thing as a Christian thing, rolled my eyes, and went on with my life.
But as the years passed, and I matured, and I learned more about what goes into a day-to-day D/s relationship, I realized how right he is. It’s not what you see in the porn videos, with the screeching woman dressed in letter, insisting that her sub serve her every whim, 24/7, without being allowed to speak.
Sure, that’s hot as fuck for a weekend, or even a week.
But that’s not reality. No sub will put up with that forever. And at some point, he (or she) will want to leave. Preventing that sub from leaving at that point crosses the line from a consensual, mutually beneficial D/s relationship to an abusive, illegal one.
In reality, a D/s relationship is a relationship, and in order for it to be a healthy relationship, both partners need to be taken care of. Respected. Supported.
I take very good care of my toys. I respect and admire and love them. Of course I take good care of them.
How do I do that?
- I encourage them. I build them up and support them. I celebrate their successes with them and mourn their losses with them. I’m their sounding board, their confidant. When they need help, regardless of what it is, I’m there.
- I don’t make them guess what I’m thinking. They always know where they stand with me. They know what I expect of them, and they can count on me to be honest and candid with them. They never have to worry about what I’m thinking, or if I’ll play petty games with them.
- I respect the hell out of them. I wouldn’t be with them if I didn’t respect them. I wouldn’t be able to take them seriously. A Domme acquaintance years ago made a observation. She said, “What’s more impressive? Getting a puppy to do tricks? Or a bear?” While her mindset was slightly misguided, she had a good point. My boys’ submission means a lot to me for many reasons, and one of those reasons is because they’re strong, independent men. I respect their strength, I respect what they’ve done with their lives, I respect the hell out of them.
- I know my boys. While I haven’t made any of them take the Love Language test, I’ve spent months (and in Kazander’s case, years) watching them, judging their reactions, observing them. I have a pretty solid idea of what makes them tick and how to make them feel appreciated, supported, and loved.
- Yes, I pray for them. For my newer readers, I am Catholic. I pray kind of a lot. Of course that includes the men I’m in love with.
- I consider a date night to be any evening free of kids/distractions/whatever. And yes, all three of them get that from me on a regular basis (well, less regular for Steel, but we do what we can, and this won’t be long-distance forever). They deserve that time, and it’s good for our relationship. They all deserve to have an evening with me all to themselves. And I thoroughly enjoy it, as well.
- Admittedly, this is one I don’t do. While I suppose I see the merit in it, after reading the article, for some women, it’s just not something that interests me. I don’t beat myself up for not doing enough around the house (someone ask Kazander how many diapers he’s changed  or how many times he’s done the dishes [once] or how many times he’s folded laundry  in the last six years). I do what needs to get done. I pull my weight, I raise my daughter, I run my household. If I don’t get to the dishes today, then oh-fucking-well. I’ll do them tomorrow. And Kazander used to good-naturedly give me grief about staying home to raise the kid. Until he took the day off work and I invited him to lunch with one of my best friends and her three daughters. That’s when he finally realized just how much time I put into my kid, and he shut up quick. If there’s something any of my boys need from me, I expect them to ask. If Kazander needs a shirt ironed for tomorrow, and doesn’t say anything, and I spend the day scrubbing the grout in the bathroom instead, guess whose fault that is (and guess who’s not waking her lazy ass up at 6am to do it). But he’s been with me for 6 years. He knows better than that. And Steel and Sounder know to ask for what they need. It works.
Now, of course I have my own expectations in my relationships. My boys are expected to submit to me, to meet my needs, to support me, obey me, and work to serve me in the best way they can. And my expectations are high. I don’t tolerate any half-assing. They all know this.
So it’s very much a two-way street. And I don’t think that Facebook posts like this one, or articles like the one it referenced are “anti-feminist.” Because even in a vanilla relationship, it takes two people, making a concentrated effort, to make it work. Detailing some tips on the effort of he wife does not mean that the husband can just walk all over her. Articles talking about how to be a good wife do not imply that a wife should let her husband take advantage of her, or that he shouldn’t have to make the same kind of effort.
Kazander actually received, as a wedding gift, a small book entitled “Don’t for Husbands,” written by a woman named Blanche Ebbutt and published in 1913. While some of it made me chuckle and roll my eyes, a surprisingly hefty majority is still very relevant today. One of my favorites completely applies to my life with Kazander.
Don’t hang about the house all day… Spend regular hours in your study or “den,” or go out and play golf; but don’t inflict your company on your wife during every minute of every day. She is fond of you, but she wants to be free sometimes. And she has business to do, if you haven’t.
This actually caused huge issues in a couple of my past relationships. I need whoever I live with to have a damn hobby. I can’t have him just hanging on me every minute of every day. Thank God Kazander is independent, and has no problem doing his own thing or going and hanging out with the guys. I love and adore him, but it’s soo nice to have him out of the house.
Especially since apparently lately, my resting bitch face has been on point, and he keeps asking me what’s wrong, and why I’m mad. I have no idea why I look mad all of the time recently, but I swear I’m not.
Wanna know what’s annoying, though?
Constantly being asked what’s wrong, and why I look mad.
Ugh, don’t any of your friends want to hang out with you right now?
So I love that he can go out and do his own thing for awhile. And if I can schedule him being gone with the spawn being gone, and actually have the house to myself for a few hours, that’s like hitting the lottery.
So husbands have expectations too, and even before women had the right to vote in this country, the idea of husbands meeting the expectations of their wives was a widely-accepted thing.
*Edit* I just looked, and the book was published by a company in London. A quick Google search, however, showed that women could not vote in 1913 in the UK, either, so my statement still stands.
But when love starts with you, and is given from a selfless place, it’s worth so much more. In my opinion, anyway.