Babies lower libido

Jen,

You mentioned your kid having an impact on your sex life and I was wondering if you could help me with a bit of an issue with me and my wife.

We both identify as switches and our play often encompasses a wide spectrum of different kinds of power dynamics.  Most people don’t get it but we’ve been together almost five years and it’s always worked great for us.

Six months ago we had a baby.  Our first.  And I couldn’t be happier.

But my wife’s sex drive tanked after she had the baby.  It still hasn’t come back even a little bit.  And nothing I do seems to help.  I’ve been taking on more and more of a Dominant role hoping to get interest and it really hasn’t worked.  About half the time she just isn’t interested at all.  The other half she’ll engage but the play is always really short and just sort of bland.

We’re definitely in a rut.  I don’t want to pressure her or anything.  I know she has a lot on her plate but I just don’t know how best to help her.  Any advice you may have would be greatly appreciated.

Thank you in advance.

Oh, dear.

Well, I don’t know your wife, so I can only speak for myself, but you’re not going to like my answer.  Hell, even I don’t like my answer.

And the answer is…..

There ain’t shit you can do but wait it out.

After I had the kid, my libido outright disappeared.  From what I understand of other women’s experiences, that’s relatively normal.

Because think about it.  Take away the physical crap, and the fact that it takes months to feel yourself again physically, but let’s just look at the hormonal stuff.

Because hormones play a pretty big role in libido.

For months, her body was affected by the baby.  And most guys don’t really get just how much the baby affects the mother.  I mean, a lot of people have heard that if the mother is injured or sick, the fetus will send stem cells to the affected area of her body (this is horrendously oversimplified, btw, but that’s the gist of it), but that’s just one thing, and that doesn’t really affect her in the day-to-day.

She’s literally got foreign DNA in her body.  The body, as a general rule, doesn’t like foreign shit in it.  Which is why rejection is such a big deal for organs or implants or literally anything put in it that was not in it when we were born.

Of course we have progesterone to help deal with that, but the higher amounts of hormones in our bodies, coupled with the hormones produced by the fetus, is a big burden.

Over 9 months, those hormones build and fluctuate as needed.  It’s a gradual thing, and it adjusts depending on how far along the pregnancy is and a number of other things.

But then, she has the baby, and it’s the sudden absence of the baby’s hormones, plus the more or less sudden cessation of the production of her hormones, and just as it took months for the hormones to build and help her body normalize while she was pregnant, it’s going to take months for her to adjust now that the baby is born and go back to normal levels.

There’s nothing you, or she, or anyone can do about it.  There does not exist a quick pill she can pop, there does not exist a sex therapist or psychiatrist or whatever who can fix her hormones.

I know what she’s feeling right now.  Pretty much every woman who’s had a kid knows what your wife is feeling now.  It’s not great.

Because we’re not idiots, and neither is your wife.  We know that there’s something off, we know that we have no libido, we know that our partner isn’t happy with what’s going on, and we know that there’s nothing we can do about it.

What sucked sweaty, hairy rhinoceros balls was how long it took for my libido to come back.  Granted, there were a couple of other things that contributed (one or two of which I’ll get into here), but it was a good solid year, maybe even a year and a half, before my libido started getting back to normal.

Don’t want to wait that long?  Tough.

Well, there may be some things you can do.  But I make no promises.

First of all, stop trying to get her interested.  Stop it.  Just stop.

Sex is not a part of your life right now.  At all.  Just accept it and move on.

Why?  I’m happy to tell you why.

Because she knows that you’re unhappy, she knows that she’s letting you down, and every time you mention it, every time you come on to her and her stomach turns (because yeah, no matter how hot you are, no matter how much she loves you, that’s about the reaction), and she’s faced with the decision whether to fake it to satisfy you or to be honest and let you down again, it’s going to be a step backward, and it’s going to put her in a bad mood, and it’s going to take longer for her libido to come back.

Because right now, on a subconscious level, she sees sex as a negative thing, because of all the baggage that’s attached to it right now.  Because every time you try to engage her, she feels hugely pressured, and it’s just another reminder that she’s not herself and it’s almost like her body is betraying her.

She feels pressured to be the person she used to be, when she’s still trying to figure out how to live in her new body.  It’s an unnerving and uncomfortable experience, and it lasts months.  The more pressured she feels to be who you want her to be, the longer it’ll take for her to feel normal again.

You want to help her?  Take the pressure off of her.  Stop focusing on the sex.  It sucks that you’ll have to do without, and I get the impression that you’re monogamous, so going outside the marriage isn’t an option (*note* if you are monogamous, do NOT broach the subject of opening the marriage right now.  Yeah, she might be open to the idea, but more likely she’ll be hurt.  This is temporary.  You can go without sex for a couple months.  You’ll live, I promise).

Once she feels relief from that constant pressure and negativity associated with disappointing you, she should be able to turn her focus to herself, and figuring out her new “normal.”  The sooner she can do that, the sooner her libido will rise.

And help out around the house more.  Changing dirty diapers and waking up at 2 am to the sound of a crying hungry baby doesn’t turn anyone on, okay?

I don’t know if she works or stays home, but regardless, it’s exhausting.  And I don’t know how active you are as a parent, but just statistically speaking, mothers do most of the work.  They also do most of the housework.  If your wife is working, she’s got to do all of that with holding down her job.

If she’s not working, then most of the time she doesn’t even get to interact with another adult until you get home.  She has no escape.  She has no breaks.  She has no sick days.  She can’t ever step away.

She feels that pressure weighing down on her, and she resents the baby, she resents you, and she hates herself because a “good mother” wouldn’t feel what she feels.

I flat out hated Kazander for the first 5 or 6 months after the spawn was born.  He could get up every morning and go to work, and have discussions with grown ups, and for the first couple months I was breastfeeding, so I couldn’t drink, I couldn’t go anywhere without a pump, I couldn’t leave her with a sitter for an evening and just get out and relax, I couldn’t get a break.

And then of course I hated myself for hating him, and for resenting the spawn.  I knew I was being ridiculous for blaming him for everything (even though he’s the one who wanted her, while I was leaning toward adoption).  I knew intellectually that millions of women feel what I felt, and that it was okay, and it’s normal, and temporary, and everything would eventually be fine.

Intellectually, I knew all that.  It didn’t help me in the moment, though.

Working mothers also deal with guilt from a different place.  Because after maternity leave, they struggle with leaving the baby to go back to work.  Because if they breastfeed, they have to work pumping into their work day.  And there are a number of moms I knew who worked and breastfed, and particularly for those who had male bosses, there was always that fear that eventually the boss would decide accommodating her pump schedule was just too inconvenient.

I know a woman who works as a private secretary who would literally pump in the car, while she was driving, doing errands, so her boss wouldn’t decide it was too inconvenient.

Of course, in her case, her boss found out what she was doing and immediately put a stop to it, and firmly let her know that there was never any errand he needed her to run, there was never anything he needed her to do that could not wait twenty minutes.  She only had to pump once each shift anyway, so she had nothing to worry about.

And I’d go out on a limb and say that the vast, vast majority of male employers are the same way.  People generally aren’t assholes.  Chances are there’s nothing to worry about.  But there’s still that tiny nagging fear.

Many working mothers also feel guilty for leaving home.  They struggle with missing their kid, and missing such a big chunk of their kid’s day.

I mean, regardless of whether your wife works or stays home, it sucks.  She deals with all of that, all day, every day, and then she comes home and cooks, cleans, and takes care of the baby, and even without hormonal imbalances, it’s no surprise she has no libido.

So it sucks for you, in that you’ll have to just do without for awhile, but if you can suck it up and wait it out, and help alleviate some of that pressure, you’ll be able to cut down at least some of the time you’ll have to wait before her libido returns to normal.

And trust me, she’ll see the effort you’re putting in, she’ll see how you’re working to help her, and she’s not going to forget it.

Let me clarify

So based on comments, messages, and emails I’ve gotten, it appears that I wasn’t quite as clear in my Wake-Up Call post as I could’ve been.

So to clarify: No, I am not saying that a submissive man should have to come out to his vanilla friends, or his family, or in his professional life.

Who he is in the bedroom really isn’t anyone’s business, and if he doesn’t want them to know, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.

I was talking specifically about a submissive man being out at a kink event only.  Such as a munch, or a play party.  A place with other kinky people.  Not vanilla people.  Not people he knows.

And no, despite (extremely) popular opinion, going to a kink event as a submissive man will have no effect on a man’s vanilla life, either personally or professionally.  Kazander learned that, himself, when he saw one of his coworkers at a munch.  Literally zero effect on his professional life or on his career.

I mean, if someone were to see their parents or something at a munch or play party, that might be awkward, but you’d actually be surprised how often that sort of thing happens.

Because think about it:  If you’re at a munch, everyone at the munch is there for the same thing.  It’s the same reason I’m not worried if someone I know finds the blog.  Because they’d have to read a lot of the blog to figure out who I am, and at that point, they can’t judge me when they’re spending that much time reading a Femdom blog.

Someone at a munch cannot judge you for being at a munch.

And also, despite (extremely) popular opinion, you are not required to write “SUBMISSIVE MAN” on your forehead when you go to a munch, m’kay.

I mean, 99% of the people Kazander and I spoke to at munches knew what our dynamic was, but most of our conversations were just vanilla conversations about normal things.

For example, there’s a woman at the mixed group that I don’t talk to a lot, but only because we hang around in different smaller groups.  I love her to death, she’s adorable, and I love talking to her.

Four years into us going to the munches regularly (and to the local dungeon, when it was open), she hugged me as we walked in.  Kazander went to the bar to get me a drink, and when he left, she said, “So what do you call him?  Your Sir?  Your Daddy?”

I laughed and said, “I call him my bitch.”

Four years, I’d known her, and after four years, she thought he was the Dom, and I was the sub.  Because he is large and intimidating, and can be rather intense, while I’m more laid-back and relaxed.

And also because it’s just not advertised.  I don’t need to lead him around with a collar and leash, okay.  I don’t need to make it obvious.  A munch is in a vanilla place.  No one makes it obvious.  Obvious shit like leading someone around on a collar and leash is actually frowned upon at munches.

So you can go to a munch without shouting from the rooftops that you’re a submissive man.  And again, everyone else at the munch is there for the same thing.

And the vanilla people at the venue, who aren’t part of the munch, don’t know what’s going on at all.  I’ve been to tons of munches at bars, restaurants, even a coffee shop, and none of the vanilla people ever knew.  We don’t dress in leather or fetish wear, okay.  We’re just a group of people hanging out.

There is literally no negative effect on one’s vanilla life.  There just isn’t.

I mean, think about it.  In Nevada, BDSM is illegal.  You cannot consent to be hit, in any way, shape, or form, under any circumstances.  Which is why we don’t have dungeons here.

So forget about submissive men for a second, and just look at Dominant men.  If a negative effect on one’s vanilla life were possible, it’s actually the Dominant men in this state that would suffer the most for it.  Because they’re the ones who are literally committing crimes behind closed doors.

They still go to munches.  Because going to a munch no effect on one’s vanilla life.  Like, I’m not making this shit up.  It’s true.  Going to a munch will not have any sort of impact on your vanilla life.  Going to a munch as a submissive man will not have any sort of impact on your vanilla life.

It just won’t.

The other thing I take issue with is a submissive man refusing to introduce his significant other to his friends or family because she is his Dominant, and he has an irrational and unfounded fear that someone will find out.

Which, unless your Dominant is completely psychotic (in which case, why did you offer your submission to her in the first place?), is not ever going to happen.

For example, when I moved in with Kazander, I would’ve had a serious issue if he refused to introduce me to his friends or family, despite the fact that we were living together.

And no, that doesn’t mean I would expect him (or any submissive) to introduce me as his Dominant.

I mean, what are people expecting?  How do you think that conversation would go?

“Yeah, Jen, these are all my drinking buddies.  Guys, this is my Mistress.  She owns me.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all.  Yeah, I totally bent him over and fucked him up the ass last night.  Did we get here in time for happy hour?”

I mean, seriously?

But this is apparently what a hefty chunk of submissive men actually think is going to happen.

When Kazander introduced me to his family and friends, he introduced me as his girlfriend.  When I introduced him to my vanilla friends and family, I introduced him as my boyfriend.

There is no negative effect of introducing your girlfriend to your vanilla friends and family, y’all.

And again, what we are and what we do in private is no one’s business.  Kazander’s family knows that I’m the one “in charge,” but that’s not a novel or unique thing.  Plenty of vanilla relationships are more or less “run” by the female partner.

I’ve never let anything slip about him being my sub, in the seven years that I’ve been with him.  As I said in the post, I will go out of my way to protect him from being found out.

And actually, I was talking about that with Sounder recently.  As I’ve said, I am transforming his bed into a pink, lacy, sissy bed.  The bedset actually just got in today, and I can’t wait to put it on his bed.  And eventually, I’m going to turn his entire house into a sissy paradise.

Which he won’t be able to hide from vanilla friends and family.

So I had a couple ideas for things he could tell his vanilla friends and family to explain all the pink.

His friends were easy, and it doesn’t even require outright lying.  Just stretching the truth with a couple little white lies.

Here’s something he could potentially tell his friends and his guy buddies:

Yeah, my girlfriend has a thing for pink.  She keeps bringing stuff over because she likes the way it looks.  She says it turns her on.  Yeah, it’s a little weird.

But you know what?

She’s a woman barely out of her twenties, with the most insatiable sex drive I’ve ever seen.  If she only makes me cum 10 times a week, it’s a slow week.  It’s hard to be upset about pink throw pillows on the couch when you’re mid-blowjob, about to have your 8th orgasm of the week, and it’s only Wednesday.

And aside from the blowjob thing, all of that is true.  Sissifying and feminizing him and his house turns me on.  Forcing him to live in a sissy house is fucking hot.  And I am barely out of my twenties, and my sex drive is pretty damn insatiable.

And because he has multiple orgasms (like a girl), it’s common for him to have more than ten orgasms when I fuck him.  Him having his 8th orgasm of the week on a Wednesday is completely feasible and realistic.

It’s all true.

But a couple weeks ago, he had his adult niece in town, and I realized that the story wouldn’t work for everyone.  Female relatives, female friends, some more conservative guests… there are plenty of potential situations where he probably shouldn’t talk about his girlfriend giving him multiple blowjobs.

So he’d need something else.  And while the story I came up with is not even remotely true, and a bit more involved, it would be much more appropriate for things like sisters/mothers/female relatives/professional associates/whatever.

So I met this girl awhile back.  She was in this horribly abusive relationship, and every time she tried to get away, he just made her life hell, and he threatened to hurt her or her family if she ever went to the cops or got a restraining order or anything like that.

She felt stuck, and didn’t know what to do.  I couldn’t just do nothing, you know.  I helped her get away, I protected her from him until she could get on her feet, and eventually he left her alone.

But we started hanging out, and started seeing each other.

She’d been with him most of her adult life, though, so it’s like she’s still not even sure of who she is outside of his influence.  And she’s so nervous about having her voice heard.  So when I found out that she liked pink, and always wanted a place with a lot of feminine touches, I encouraged her to go for it.

But she still doesn’t feel really safe or comfortable at her place, so I let her do it at mine.  And she was just kept down so much, you know, for so long, I wanted to just indulge her with this, and let her go nuts.  Having a pink house is annoying, but it’s definitely worth making her feel validated and helping her figure out who she is as a woman.

I mean, who could possibly fault him for that?  Not only is it plausible, but it totally makes him look like the hero.  He could tell that story, and everyone who hears it will think he has a pink house because he’s a knight in shining armor who rescued the damsel in distress, and sacrificed his own comfort and personal taste to help a woman feel good about herself.

But of course, he would know the truth.  He’d know that he has a pink house because he’s a sissy bitch.

The point is that I don’t expect any submissive man to come out in his vanilla life, to his vanilla friends.  There’s no point to it.  I’m not out to most of my vanilla friends, or my family.  Because why?  Whose business is it what I do with my subs behind closed doors?

None of Kazander’s friends or family know what we do in private, and I have no desire to change that.  As far as everyone thinks, I’m his wife.  And as far as everyone thinks, it’s a normal, monogamous relationship.

When I meet Sounder’s vanilla friends and family, none of them are ever going to know what we do in private.  As far as everyone will think, I’m his girlfriend.  And as far as everyone will think, it’s a normal, monogamous relationship.

Well……….

Except for one, that is.

Because I’m going to meet his guy friends, and get to know them a bit.  Then, I’m going to pick one.

I have a specific set of criteria he’ll have to meet, a specific personality type, a specific physical type, a specific mentality and attitude.

Once I find the one who meets that criteria, I’m going to pull him aside, when Sounder isn’t around.

And I’m going to arrange something very, very fun.

Allow me to set the scene.  I’m at Sounder’s house, with him dressed in his lovely sissy clothes, kneeling on his pink sissy bed.  I’m going to blindfold him and put noise-canceling headphones on him.

Then, I’ll go and open the front door, and let the friend in.  I’ll lead the friend upstairs, to see Sounder tied up, dressed up, and on his knees.

And Sounder will suck his dick.  And swallow his load, obviously.

Then, I will leave Sounder there and walk the friend out before untying him and taking the blindfold off.

And Sounder will have no idea which of his friends have shot their load in his mouth.  He’ll never know which of his friends have seen him in all his sissy glory.

And, as he pointed out when I described that scenario to him, in great, glorious detail, even if he suspected who it might be, it’s not like he could ever ask the guy about it.

So I mean, one of his friends will know.  Which is going to be so amazingly, wonderfully, incredibly awesome.

But, you know, no one else will know.

My point is that no, you don’t have to out yourself in your vanilla life.  That’s not what I was saying.

I was saying that refusing to go to or accompany your Domme to a kink event is a dick move.  And I was saying that refusing to introduce your girlfriend to the other people in your life because of your D/s dynamic is a dick move.

So basically, I’m saying don’t be a dick.

So I don’t need caffeine anymore

So did you know that Hal Sparks is in a kids’ show now?

Because I didn’t know he was in a kids’ show now.

Which is why it was funny to walk in to see my 5-year-old watching TV and hearing Hal Sparks’ voice.

Why is that funny?  Because, while he’s done other stuff, to me he will always be Michael from Queer as Folk.

You know Queer as Folk, right?

It’s the show about a group of gay men (and women) that features such wholesome themes as teenage prostitution, huge amounts of homophobia and homophobic slurs, brutal hate crimes, unbelievably high amounts of unprotected sex with strangers, illegal drug use, overdosing on illegal drugs, a 30-year-old having sex with a minor, gangbangs of a man who is high on drugs and passed out… not to mention the fact that it’s practically softcore porn.

It is the literal opposite of family friendly.

I’ve seen every episode of the show like 6 times.  Seriously one of the best shows ever made.

Brian Kinney was my first love.  And to this day, there does not exist another character (or real person) that is more like me.

We have so much in common.  We’re both hot, we both have a robust and healthy self appreciation, we both have a robust and healthy sex drive, we both drive really, really fast, we’re both heartless assholes, and we both find it incredibly hot to see men on their knees (or, you know, bent over).

The differences are that I also find it hot when women are on their knees (or bent over), I’m more manipulative than he is, and I’m tougher than he is.

That, and he has a penis.

Oh and his cancer was testicular.

No apologies.  No excuses.  No regrets.

I remember always looking forward to watching the show every week when I was a teenager.  It came out when I was 14, and I watched every episode without fail.  Thank God my parents never paid attention to me.  It was two years before they realized what I was watching, and when my mom tried to tell me I couldn’t watch it anymore, she knew just as well as I did that she was wasting her breath (by 16, my parents and I weren’t great friends).

The point is that, while I adore the show, I was not totally in love with the idea of my 5-year-old watching it (it’s on Netflix, which she knows how to get into, so while it’s unlikely, it is possible for her to turn the show on if she gets in my account instead of hers).  Also, I know everything she watches when she’s at my house (my inlaws do not share my desire to be aware of what the kindergartner watches.  Which I discovered when she quoted Fry from Futurama to me.  That was a fun day).  So when I walked in and heard Hal Sparks, it got my attention.  He wasn’t on any show that I knew she watched.

But the worst part wasn’t hearing his voice.  Sure, that’s what got my attention, but it wasn’t his voice that started my mini heart attack.

It was the words he was saying.  Which, in that moment, sounded awholefuckinglot like the QAF scene in which Michael is arguing with his boyfriend, Ben, after the teenage prostitute living with them was caught bringing his johns into their home.

Not exactly suitable for my kid.  And naturally, I freaked the fuck out, ran around to the front of the TV, and reached for the remote before registering that it was a kids’ show, and I guess the kids on the show had a garage sale or something without telling Sparks’ character, and sold some stuff in his house, and something about someone taking a nap in his bed.

I don’t know, I stopped paying attention when I realized my kid wasn’t about to watch Ted “strongly urge” Emmett to continue pleasuring him after Emmett said he was done, or Michael telling Ben (who is HIV positive) to keep going when the condom breaks, or Justin giving Brian a blowjob in an alley, then spitting the cum on a poster of an asshole politician, or Brian almost dying from an attempt at autoerotic asphyxiation, or Justin’s dad ramming Brian’s car, totaling it, or kicking the shit out of him, or Ted overdosing on drugs that a stranger gave him after bringing the stranger to his house, or Justin being bashed in the head with a baseball bat.

But I certainly didn’t need any more coffee.  I was completely awake.

And I learned that Hal Sparks is in a kids’ show.

D/s and depression

Domina Jen

I’d first like to introduce myself, my name is (*edit, we’ll call him Jake from State Farm, because that’s what’s been stuck in my head all day, and he asked to keep his real name anonymous), and I’d like to let you know up front that I’m a male Dominant, relatively new to the scene, I’ve only been really active for a couple of years or so.

I know I’m far from your target audience but your blog is wonderful and I’ve learned a lot from reading it.  It’s quite a bit more honest and open than places like Fetlife.  If you don’t mind, I’d like your advice on a minor situation.

I’m in a relatively new full-time D/s relationship with a wonderful girl who is also a bit newer to the lifestyle.  We’re both sort of learning as we go.

I’ve struggled with depression and anxiety off and on throughout my life, was diagnosed with persistent depressive disorder about ten years ago, and have more or less managed it on my own with little or no help from a professional or medication.  I like to think I’m very self aware and I know my patterns, and the last couple of weeks or so, it has been much harder than usual to manage, and I’m worried that it’s starting to affect my relationship.

I’ve gone all this time without needing to see a doctor or take medication and I really don’t want to break that streak, but I think I might have to.

As of now, my girl doesn’t know.  We’ve only been together about four months, and I’m worried about how this will impact our relationship.  I know I need to tell her, do you have any suggestions for how that conversation should start?  And I know you’ve talked about Dominants being held to high standards, how does mental health figure into that, and should I take a break from the relationship for now?  I really care about her and don’t want to end the relationship, but I’m very worried about hurting her unintentionally.  She deserves the best of me, and I feel awful that I’m failing at giving her that.  If you’re willing, and have time, I’d be extremely grateful for any advice you might give.

Thank you in advance,

Jake

Oh hell…

Well Jake, you’ve stumbled into one of the hardest, most complicated, most convoluted, and ultimately unfair aspects of D/s relationships.

Yes, Dominants should be held to a very high standard.  It’s not supposed to be easy all the time.  It’s supposed to be a challenge, it’s supposed to challenge us to be the best versions of ourselves.  Our subs give us the most precious gift one human being can give another, and they deserve our best selves.  We can’t fail them.

But we’re still human.  We, like all humans, have moments of weakness.  We have moments of doubt.  We have moments where we stumble and fall.  When that happens, it’s our responsibility to make sure we don’t take our subs down with us.

It’s a delicate balance, though.  Because we can’t (and shouldn’t) shut our subs out, and we need to be as trusting of them, and allow ourselves to be as open and vulnerable with them, as we expect them to be with us (much, much easier said than done).

And yes, you do need to tell your sub.  It’s important for subs to understand that we are human, we are going to fuck up once in awhile, and we should not be placed on any sort of pedestal.

This is something I actually learned the hard way, with one of my very first adult relationships.  My primary sub at the time was a very sweet girl a year younger than I was.  She was strong, but a bit fragile and sensitive, and I was 18 or 19, and stupid, and reckless, and dumb, and about as emotionally mature and wise as you’d expect someone that age to be.  I didn’t realize that she’d started to idolize me, and put me up on this pedestal in her head (she was 17 or 18, and about as emotionally mature and wise as you’d expect someone that age to be).

Or maybe I did, but just liked the ego boost, and didn’t realize why it was a bad idea.  It was a long time ago.  I don’t remember.

And, as was inevitable, I fucked up.  I made a mistake (I was so dumb back then), I made a bad judgement call that caused her to feel like I’d let her down.

She was upset because her parents were super pissed off when they found out she was dating me (she’d only recently come out to them).  I consoled her, I supported her, and then I assumed it was over.  She turned to me for support, and I gave it, and then (I thought) we moved on.

Again, I was an idiot, in a whole lot of ways.  But I went out the next night with a bunch of friends, while she stayed home.  The next day, she was inconsolable.

It was insensitive, and cold, and self-centered, and just basically stupid and mean.  I don’t try to defend it.  Yeah, I could say I was a dumb teenager, but that’s just a cop-out.  I was an asshole.  I wasn’t intentionally trying to hurt her, but my intentions didn’t matter.  I’d let her down.

A vanilla relationship might’ve survived something like that.

She was crushed.  Completely devastated.  Her image of me was shattered.  And I was young and dumb, I didn’t know how to fix my mistake.  Our relationship ended because I’d let her build me up in her head, and I didn’t see it, didn’t think to adjust it, and didn’t know how to fix it.

Since then, I’ve been more careful.  Her age had a lot to do with her putting me up on a pedestal, but she’s hardly the only one, and there have been people much older than her throughout the years who have tried.  And I’m not (usually) an idiot anymore.  I know better than to ignore it, or to not do anything about it.

I’m telling you this because you’re new-ish, and your sub is new-ish, and particularly in your situation, it’s very, very important that she keep her feet on the ground and that she not put you up on a pedestal.  She needs to be very, very aware of the fact that you’re not perfect, and you’re going to make mistakes.

It’s up to you to make sure she understands that.  You’re the one responsible for setting the tone of the relationship.  It’s crucial.  Make sure she understands it, not just logically, but emotionally as well.  Because if you don’t, and her picture of you is shattered to the point that she can’t recover, that’s going to be on your shoulders.  Just as my relationship ending was on mine.

Okay, so the subject of a Dominant with a mental health issue is a slightly loaded one, at least for me, anyway.  I’m sure a lot of people won’t agree with me, but I’ve discovered that a lot of people are really, really, remarkably stupid (that’s not just one link, by the way.  Each word is a separate link to people being really, really, remarkably stupid.  Just in the past year or so).

Right, so I recognize that everyone’s brand of D/s is unique, there is no one-size-fits-all solution for anything, and a lot of this is my personal, strongly-held, based-in-facts-and-common-sense opinion.

Still opinion, though.

I don’t know you, and I have no idea what kind of relationship you have, so I’m going to do a lot of speculation, and project a lot of my own type of D/s onto your situation.  Take what you will of it, discard the rest.

Depression and anxiety are a couple of real sons of bitches, man.  They can fuck shit up pretty good on their own, and combined, they’re just fucking nasty.  And they don’t discriminate, no one is immune, it can affect anyone.

Dominants included.  Hell, even myself included.  The brain is the most complex organ in our body, and disorders of this particular organ are common across race, creed, social status, economic class, etc.  If you have a brain, you’re susceptible to disorders of the brain.  It happens.

The first step is accepting that it happens, that there’s nothing you can do at the moment to change it (well you can, but that’s not exactly what I mean, and I’ll get to that.  What I mean is you can’t just snap your fingers and not be depressed anymore), and that it doesn’t mean you’re weak, or in any way less.  Would you consider someone who has asthma, a disorder of the lungs, weak?  Fuck no, you wouldn’t.  So don’t think of yourself that way, because you have a disorder of the brain.

Does it suck?  Yeah.  Can you snap your fingers and make it go away?  No.

You really do need to accept it, accept this part of you.  You’re carrying a lot of self blame, thinking that you’re letting your sub down because you have these disorders, and that needs to stop.  Again, you set the tone for the relationship.  You’ve got to let go of that blame.

There’s just no option, you’ve got to do it.

Of course, I know that’s easier said than done, especially with depressive and anxiety disorders, but truly, there is no alternative if you want to be a Dominant in a D/s relationship.  Buckle down, grit your teeth, and get it done.  It’s not going to be easy, and you’ll backslide a bit, and it’s going to suck, but you can do it.

Now, there is a bit of a controversial edge to this subject.  Because BDSM relationships are known for being really, really intense.  Your sub is so vulnerable to you, so open to you, so yielding and accepting of everything you say and do.  With that kind of openness, that kind of vulnerability, you’ve got to be so careful.

A sub sacrifices control for freedom, and a Dom sacrifices freedom for control.  You don’t have the freedom to lose your cool.  Your influence over her is too great, the potential to hurt her is just too much.

A Dominant must, mustmust be in control of himself before taking control of someone else.  With mental health problems, that gets difficult.

Does that mean someone with mental health disorders can’t or shouldn’t be a Dominant?  Eh, that really depends on the individual, but yes, I do believe there are instances where someone is simply not mentally sound enough to take control of another human being.

I don’t think that’s the case with you, but you’re a better judge of that than I am.

The first step is figuring out how to manage it.

Again, you can’t snap your fingers and make it go away.  But you can take steps to manage and treat it to the point that it doesn’t necessarily have to impact your relationship.

*Note*  I am not a doctor, take any advice I give with a grain of salt, and talk to an actual doctor.

I know antidepressants are no joke, man.  SSRI’s are some serious shit, and come with a pretty nasty set of side effects.

But if you’re getting to the point where you can’t manage it on your own, you need to, at the very least, talk to a psychiatrist.  Maybe you don’t need SSRI’s.  Maybe you can do okay with something like 5-HTP or SAM-e (seriously, talk to a freakin’ doctor though).  Or maybe you only need a low dose SSRI for a few weeks, and then you can wean yourself off and be fine managing it on your own again.  I mean, you never know until you talk to a doctor.

But you’ve got to manage it.  If you’re a victim of that toxic masculinity bullshit, with the mindset of “real men don’t need a shrink,” ditch that shit now.

Real men handle their shit.  Real men don’t lie to themselves about what they can and cannot (or should and should not) handle on their own.  Real men aren’t too much of a pussy to ask for help.

You’ve got shit that needs to be handled.  Recognize that managing it on your own is not currently working to an acceptable degree.  Get the help you need, not just from a stranger on the internet with a blog, but from a licensed professional capable of prescribing medication (if necessary).

Hard truth time: Not managing it and being a Dominant is not acceptable.  At-mother-fucking-all.

And sure, there will be people who will disagree with me.  There will be people who think I’m being unfair and discriminatory to Dominants with mental illnesses.

Honestly, those people can suck it.  You don’t have the right to be fair when you’re the one who made the decision to take control of another human being.  If your sub opens themselves up to you, lets you in past their defenses, past their walls, and you unintentionally hurt them because of an untreated mental illness that you knew about, you’re an asshole.

And you’re an abusive asshole.  You knew better.  You knew you needed treatment.  You didn’t get it.  And because of it, you caused another human being, who trusted you, serious harm.

No, that is not, and will never be acceptable.  Dominants are better than that.  You have to be better than that.

And no, it’s not fair.  Submissives don’t necessarily have the same problem when it comes to a mental illness.  They can lean on their Dominant in a way that their Dominant may not be able to lean on them.

But submissives don’t get off easy, either.  They have their own responsibilities to meet in the relationship.  The problem is that meeting those responsibilities makes them more vulnerable to be hurt by a Dominant who is not in complete control.

A submissive must put his (or her) Dominant first.  The Dominant’s needs come first.  Period.  That’s a hell of a lot harder and a hell of a lot more complicated than it sounds.  It’s not easy to do, and in doing it, they trust that their Dominant will take care of them, and make sure their needs are met.  The ability to do that may be negatively affected in a Dominant with a mental illness.

If a submissive isn’t focusing on her needs, and her Dominant isn’t focusing on her needs, that’s a problem.

A submissive is also expected to open up for his Dominant.  Vulnerability is the name of the game.  There is no part of himself, no piece of his mind that is off-limits to his Dominant.  This is an extremely, extremely difficult thing to do.  It takes a lot of trust, a lot of courage, and a lot of strength.

And it doesn’t take a lot to irreparably shatter that trust.

You cannot be in control of someone else if you’re not in complete control of yourself, and if you’re suffering from depression and anxiety, you’re not in complete control of yourself.  You’re at the whim of the chemical imbalances, faulty mood regulation, and seratonin deficiencies in your brain that are fucking up your perception, your motivation, your mentality.  You cannot control it.

You can’t be dealing with all of that, not manage it, and be in control of someone else.  It’s unethical and dangerous.  You can cause serious mental and emotional harm not only to your sub, but to yourself.  Don’t do it.

Does that mean you need to break things off with your sub?  Not necessarily, again it depends on your situation.  If you’re taking steps to manage it and she’s aware of the situation, and aware that there’s the possibility that you may say or do things you shouldn’t, or aren’t feeling “like yourself,” and you both agree to keep things going, then great.  Go for it, I mean it.  PDD is a very treatable condition, anxiety can be worked around, it’s a very doable situation for a lot of people.

There is hope, and you’re far from the first Dominant to face this sort of situation.

I’ll say that again.  There is hope, and you’re not alone.  This can be done.

So after you decide to manage this and deal with it, you’ve got to talk to your sub.  Which won’t be an easy conversation.  It needs to happen when you’re both calm and in neutral moods (don’t start this conversation if she’s had a bad day at work), and don’t have anything on the agenda for the evening.

Sit her down, in private (don’t do this in a restaurant or at a bar or whatever), and be direct and calm.  She can handle it.  You can start off by telling her the same way you told me.

I’ve struggled with depression and anxiety off and on throughout my life, was diagnosed with persistent depressive disorder about ten years ago, and have more or less managed it on my own with little or no help from a professional or medication.  I like to think I’m very self aware and I know my patterns, and the last couple of weeks or so, it has been much harder than usual to manage, and I’m worried that it’s starting to affect [our] relationship.

You can start with that.  Write it down and read it to her if you have to.  Or write it down and have her read it while you sit next to her.  Don’t feel dumb if you have to do it that way, I have literally done that before.  I can organize my thoughts better in writing, and when I’m struggling to say something that needs to be said, writing it and just letting them read it has worked when I’ve been unable to put it in words.

Let her know that you care about her and don’t want to lose her, and you want to be the Dominant she deserves.  Let her know that you’ve got an appointment with a doctor, and you’re going to get it under control.  Ask her to be patient with you while you get it figured out.  Ask her what steps you can take to assure her that you’re there for her.  Ask her what she needs from you.  And if there’s anything you need from her, now’s the time to ask her for it.

So in summation:

Step 1: Get it under control.  Call a psychiatrist today and set an appointment.  Do this and take a concrete step forward.  Trust me, you’ll struggle to find the motivation to do it, but it’ll feel good once you’ve done it.  It’s an accomplishment, and one that will set everything else in motion.  It’ll make you feel good.  Do it.

Step 2:  Talk to your sub.  Write down what you want to say beforehand so you don’t get flustered and forget.  Keep it short and simple.  Read it to her if you have to, or have her read it.  Do whatever it takes to let her know what’s going on, because you owe it to her as her Dominant.  Answer her questions honestly, let her see your vulnerability, even if it’s uncomfortable.

Step 3:  Go to your appointment.  Tell your sub when it is.  If you’re worried about finding the motivation to go, ask her to hold you to it.  Give her the ability to withhold something from you (something that you want) if you don’t go.  Hell, have her drive you.  Just get there.  Do whatever it takes.  Because you owe it to her as your Dominant.  Let her become your motivation.  Let caring for her and being the man she deserves keep you moving forward.

Step 4:  Be honest and frank in the appointment.  You’ve been diagnosed with PDD, so I’m guessing you’re familiar with psychiatrists.  Great.  Push yourself to be as honest as possible about what you’re feeling and what you want.  Make a realistic plan for the immediate future, whether that involves drugs or other kinds of therapy, or both.

Step 5:  Follow the plan.  It’ll take time before you start seeing significant improvement, and your motivation will falter.  You’ve dealt with this for years, you know it’s not going to be easy.

But you’ve dealt with this for years, you know that you can.

Not Mine

Alright, so fair warning.  I’m a teensy bit buzzed.  I’m not great at not-rambling when I’m stone-cold sober, and I really don’t wanna write this post sober, so just be prepared for a lot of rambling.

Eventually I’ll get to the point.  It’ll be an adventure.

Fair warning though (Part 2) the point is kinda a downer.  I want to make sure you all know, so it’s not like going on a roller coaster and then as you get off, you step in dog shit.

Oh my gawd, and poor Sounder!  He caught the brunt of my drunken ramblings, him and one of my girlfriends who made the mistake of commenting on a drunken Facebook post I wrote (inspired, incidently, by Sounder.  And did you know that wine tastes nasty when you drink it through a straw, because the smell is like this huge part of the wine-drinking experience, and with a straw that interferes with the smell, so you basically just get sad moldy-grape water).

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So there’s your science-y lesson for today.  This blog is crazy educational.

Oh and fair warning (Part 3): This has been my brain lately:

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So we’ll meander, but we’ll get there.  It’s all about the journey, anyway.

Relax, no one died, although that does remind me of something I want to point out when I get to that point in the story, assuming I remember the damn thing.

If I do, we’ll all be surprised together.

M’kay, so I’m settled down with my wine, I’m currently on my 33rd repeat of Wannabe by Spice Girls as loud as it can go in the headphones (dude, don’t ask, it’s a really long story.  I think.  But it makes me happy, so whatever), I’m that perfect level of “happy drunk,” and I’m going to explain what’s up so that the readers can understand, while being vague to protect people’s privacy.

I have no idea if this’ll work on paper, but it works in my head and Drunk Jen says go for it.

And that bitch knows her shit.  I trust her.  She’s never led me astray.

Except those two times.

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What was the second time?

Yeah I know that reference was forced, but I’m drunk and can do what I want.  And my other favorite Force Awakens Han quote, “Okay, how do we blow it up?  There’s always a way to do that,” (it’s funny because that’s usually my Plan A with a lot of things) just wasn’t going to fit.  And I was feeling a Star Wars reference right this moment.

Oh and also keep in mind that I’m primarily telling this from my point of view.  For reasons, there may not be an abundance of the other point of view for awhile, but — Oh Jesus Christ, this is all vague and cryptic as shit.

Fuck that.  New tactic.

Steel is no longer my collared submissive.

Fuck, that’s going to make everything else make so much more sense.  Critical knowledge.  That’s it.  There ya go.

He no longer wears my collar.

We’re done.  We’re over.

Shit, and that’s not helping.

Okay, so there wasn’t a big fight or anything, and I could see this coming months ago, and we both sort of knew it was heading this way for at least the last few weeks.  We talked about what was wrong in the relationship, we talked about this possibility, but we never gave it much thought, because we both instinctively recoiled from the idea.  We didn’t even like thinking about it, much less talking about the possibility of it.

Not being together wasn’t an option.

Until it became the only option.

So what happened?  What did I see back in October that told me this was coming?

In short, the distance.  The distance became too great of an obstacle to overcome.

No, that’s not right.  That’s not the right wording, anyway.

We live 2500 miles apart.  And we both felt that distance, every second of every day.  The times that we were able to be together were amazing, and we always loved talking to each other over the phone and Skype, but it wasn’t enough.

I had been getting increasingly frustrated with the status quo.  It was quickly becoming clear that this wasn’t working for either of us.

And there is nothing I can use, drawing from my own experience, to compare to the frustration, helplessness, and anger that I felt when I saw him hurting, saw him needing me, and I was completely powerless to help him.

I don’t do powerless well.  And I started becoming restless.  In the last couple of weeks, it was more than clear to me what needed to happen.  But my whole soul recoiled against it so completely, I honestly didn’t know if I had the willpower to actually do it, instead of selfishly keeping him under my thumb from 2500 miles away.

It was killing him, and the idea of letting him go was so repulsive to me, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do it to keep from hurting him more.

I didn’t know if I could do it, and I didn’t know what to do about that.  How do you tell the man who is desperate for you, the man who loves you, the man you adores you and worships you, that you have to let him go?  How does that conversation even start?

The possibility occurs to me that maybe I wouldn’t have had the strength to do it on my own.

The probability occurs to me that maybe I wouldn’t have had the strength to do it on my own.

There’s not a lot on this planet that gets to me, there’s not a lot that hits hard enough to knock me off balance, there’s not a lot that can reach deep enough to hurt me.

Because I’m a hypocrite.  As I tear down the walls surrounding my subs’ minds, I use what I learn from them, I use what I learn from their coping mechanisms and their defense mechanisms to make mine stronger.

He learned how to reach me.  I’ll never forget the first time we met, after I’d collared him for a couple months, and he said, “Your expression is really hard to read.  Harder than I expected.”

As it turns out, he didn’t need it.  He picked up things I was so sure no one could see.  He threw me off balance by seeing through these disguises I meticulously put together.

Disguises that were strong enough to convince literally everyone else in my entire adult life.

Even B, the man who saved me, the first man who could reach me, couldn’t read me the way Steel can.  When I took a knife to my arm, leaving gashes that should’ve had stitches, with scars that are still significantly raised to this day, 12 years later, I had dinner at his house the next day, and he had no idea anything was wrong, until his son, my best friend at the time, noticed them under my sleeve and called attention to them.

I was comfortable in my solitude.  It was easy.  It was simple.  I was more than confident in my ability to keep everyone fooled, keep everyone at a distance.  Even when I showed vulnerability, it was a conscious choice, done only to a certain person, in a private conversation.  No one else is privy to that.

I could keep everyone at arms’ length, and I’d gotten so good at it, I didn’t even have to think about it anymore.

Until my daughter’s fourth birthday party.  I don’t even remember what was wrong.  I was dealing with my inlaws, and there was no alcohol at the party, so I’m sure that had something to do with it.  But I remember I was talking to him on the phone, standing in the inlaws’ dining room, and he asked one innocent question, and I froze.

How did he know that?

He shouldn’t have known that.

He threw me off balance, he opened himself up to me, and in taking control of him, I opened myself up, too, to a degree that I wasn’t used to, wasn’t comfortable with.

And in the end, no, I couldn’t give him the depth he asked for.  That depth, that darkness, and the way people will react to seeing it firsthand, is the only thing on this planet that scares me.  That fear was too familiar, too comfortable, to give up, even for him.

I compromised, promising that when we were together physically, we would revisit the topic, and I would give him what he asked for.

And I meant it.  It scares me enough that even thinking about it, even thinking about him learning what’s there, thinking about the look on his face as he realizes the full extent of what I am, is enough to make my fingers shake, my throat feel tight, and tears prick the backs of my eyes.

But I would’ve done it, for him.  Somehow, haltingly, with a lot of drinks, and probably a panic attack or two thrown in for good measure, I would’ve done it.

He broke through my walls, he even found a way, the cunning bastard that he is, to break through them even as I threw more back up.  When I became worried that he’d get past my walls, my instinct was to pull away.  But somehow, I think without even consciously realizing it, he recognized that, and opened himself even more, gave even more of himself to me, made himself even more vulnerable, and it kept me from freaking out.

He figured it out, he reached me, and he’s one of a very few who are alive today who have the power to hurt me.

And I knew I was hurting him.  Just by being with him, I was hurting him.

But was I strong enough to do what needed to be done?  Was I strong enough to let him go?

But then, as has happened eerily often, the Universe intervened, finally pushing Steel to the point that he acknowledged that this isn’t working.

There’s something you have to understand about Steel.  He’s a Capricorn, through and through.  He rolls his eyes at this stuff, and a bunch of my readers might, as well, but that’s alright, I’m drunk and my tongue is numb, so I’m going to write about what I want to write about.

And for some reason, that string of logic makes perfect sense right now.

So I always have high expectations of my subs.  There have been three cases, however, in which the sub’s expectations of himself have exceeded even my high expectations of him.

I have no idea if that sentence makes sense to sober people.  Three subs have had higher expectations of themselves than I have had of them.

Two of those are the two Capricorns I owned when I woke up this morning.

But add a lot of distance, over a period of more than a year, to a sub who opened himself up early on to a phenomenal degree, and who constantly expects the best of himself, sometimes to maybe an unrealistic degree, and his struggle to see the value he has in my life, and it’s not pretty.

When the distance first started really getting to him, it was hard to watch, and a million times harder for him to feel.  He felt guilty for letting the distance get to him.  He put blame on himself for the fact that he needed me there with him, and I wasn’t there.  We talked about different solutions to the problem, but each one simply started that spiral over again.  He felt guilty because it seemed like I wasn’t enough for him.  And he felt like he was failing me.

And I watched this happen, I saw him start those cycles, and man, sometimes I just saw red.

I wasn’t angry at him, I was never angry with him.  But I was furious with the miles that separated us, and the very many things keeping us apart.

Because this cycle is one that I know, and one that I can fix, so easily, if I was just there.

I could take all of that weight off his shoulders, I could give him room to breathe, I could help him find the balance that our relationship had caused him to lose, if I was just there with him.

God damn it, I could’ve fixed this, if I was just fucking there.

I hated knowing that he was hurting, needing me, and there was not a fucking thing I could do.  I know I became very aware of my tone of voice when talking to him on the phone.  I didn’t ever want him to think that I was frustrated with him.  But he can read me like no one else can, from 2500 miles away, and he felt my frustration, which did nothing but add to his own.

It wasn’t fucking fair!

*Regains composure*

But life isn’t fair, and the fact of the matter is we reached a point where the status quo was no longer an acceptable option.  And as much as I love and adore him, moving to where he lives is not an option, for a great number of reasons I’m not going to get into.

At this point in his life, moving here is not an option for him.

That left us with one option.  We both knew it, and neither of us could do it on our own.  I don’t know if I would’ve been able to let him go, on my own, even though it was for his own good, even though being mine, feeling that distance, killed him a little more each day.

I don’t know if I’m that selfless.  I don’t know if I’m that strong.

But somehow, as he always does, he filled those holes in my armor with his own.  And it happened quickly and smoothly.

Honestly, I remember very, very little of the conversation, and I’m totally fine with remembering very, very little of the conversation.

I remember one moment.  I don’t remember what, exactly he said, but he acknowledged that this wasn’t working.  It was really the first time I’d heard him make that acknowledgement, directly and out loud.

And that’s what I needed.  That was enough to remind me that it’s my job to take care of him for as long as he’s mine, and that it’s my job to help him untangle himself from me once he’s no longer mine.

It reminded me that he was fucking hurting, because of me, and I owed this to him, God damn it.  He’d suffered for me, suffered for my absence, for a year and a half.  He took all of it, he gave me all of himself, even to his own detriment, even when he knew it would just hurt him more, even when he was afraid of how I’d react, even when he was afraid I would judge him, and he opened himself up to the influence I greedily, perhaps recklessly, presented.

It was so intense, in the beginning.  So many things went so perfectly right, the entire God damned motherfucking Universe came together at exactly the way we needed it to, it was like un-fucking-real.

There were things that should’ve been red flags, but weren’t.  We both knew we were falling too hard, too fast, for someone we knew very, very little about.  Neither of us are particularly emotional.  Neither of us are particularly open or talkative about our emotions.  This wasn’t like us.  And neither of us were blind to the fact that there were 2500 miles separating us.

I told him once, very early on, “Let’s just enjoy each other now.”

And we did.

He opened himself up, to a level that still amazes me, even now, and laid himself out for me to see.  He pushed himself to give me more, and every shred of control he offered up, I took eagerly, wanting still more.

It was new territory for both of us.  Neither of us were big on long-distance relationships, neither of us had really had one before.  And his willingness to open himself up drove me to take him deeper, deeper, without thinking of the effect it would have on a sub who isn’t physically here, with me.

I realized far too late my mistake, when his vanilla life started faltering because he was so deep in the headspace I just instinctually put him in.

We both acknowledged that it couldn’t continue, and he pulled back for a couple of weeks, giving himself time to regain his balance.  That bothered him.  I told him, “Take all the time you need.  I’m not going anywhere.  I’ll be right here when you get back.”

And he did.  And when he came back, things were smoother.  But it didn’t take long for me to realize the damage had already been done.

And yes, the very thing I would’ve called a blessing if he were here became a curse.  I’d already gone too deep in his mind, and I wasn’t there with him to guide him and steady him.

I thought I could counter it by holding back, by holding him back, and for awhile, that worked.

But it worked like a single strip of duct tape holding a skyscraper together.  It was a fragile fix, that wouldn’t last long.  And one night last October, as we were talking on the phone, his voice coming through the speakers of my car (I even remember what street I was on), it really hit me.

This isn’t going to work.  I can’t keep him.

But no, that’s just pessimistic bullshit, and I’m an optimistic person.  We can make this work.  I am a very firm believer in the idea that there is always a solution to a problem.

We had a problem.  By its very nature, the problem must have a solution.  We just needed to find it.

Months passed, we tried different things, and none of them worked.  And the realist in me kept interrupting the Little-Engine-That-Could-like stubborn singlemindedness my inner optimist kept spouting.

We can do this.  We can do this.  I can fix this.  I can fix this.

It’s not working.  It’s not working.  You’re hurting him.  You’re hurting him.

No, but letting him go would hurt him so much more.

Yeah, that’s a great reason to keep actively causing him pain every time you talk to him.  By all means, keep doing that.

Most of this, Steel didn’t know until now.  He’s learning it the same way you are, and that’s by design.

I never told him.  I never attempted to keep it from him, but I never told him.  Partly because that’s not my nature, but also because I knew I could handle it, and I knew telling him would do nothing but add to a burden that I’d already made too heavy.

I never needed Steel the way he needed me.  I never needed reassurance, I never needed to feel him there with me, the way he needed to feel me there with him.

Don’t get me wrong.  I would actually, legitimately consider cutting off my left tit, one of my two favorite parts of my body, just for half an hour with him curled up in my lap.  Like, I’m serious.  They have stuff for mastectomies, they have breast forms and all that, and my tits are heavy enough to make back pain a daily thing.  I could make that work.

Just half an hour with him right now.  I wouldn’t even play with him.  Not intense play, anyway.

But no, I never needed him the way he needed me.  I knew I could handle the pain of missing him, I knew I could handle the anger and the frustration, and yes, even the doubt.

I never hid it from him, but I never told him because I knew that knowing this would’ve hurt him more, as I know reading it is painful to him now.  He’s protective of me, and I knew he’d instinctively want to protect me from it.  Without any conscious thought, he’d try to take it on himself, he’d heap just another expectation on top of the pile already on his shoulders, because he’d rather collapse under the weight than do something he thought might hurt, or burden me.

And no, I wasn’t going to let him do that.  He heaped the blame on himself, but the cold, hard, unemotional, objective facts are that I created this.

Knowing the extent of how badly I was hurting would’ve devastated him, and he would’ve felt guilty for being the cause of my pain.

And I know that because I felt guilty for being the cause of his pain.

And no, I wasn’t going to let him take that on himself.  That wasn’t his burden to bear.  It was mine, and I created it, in the very beginning, by urging him to dive in with me, even when he hesitated.

“Let’s just enjoy each other for now.”

With no thought, no plan, for the future.  I took him deep, I took him dark, without considering the variable of such a large distance, and the effect it would have on him.

And he’s the one who suffered for my recklessness.

Things remaining as they were wasn’t an option.  Me moving there wasn’t an option.  Him moving here wasn’t an option.

Staying together wasn’t an option.

And he somehow knew, without even realizing it, exactly what to say to remind me that I’m a fucking Dominant, and he gave himself to me openly, without reservation, without limit, trusting that I would take care of him.  Just a comment made, almost in passing, was enough to remind me what was at stake.

His mental and emotional health were at stake.  Our relationship was at stake.  Our future was at stake.  If we’d tried to stay together, the pain and frustration would build, and would turn to resentment.  That resentment would turn in on each other, and would destroy us irreparably.

We have no idea what the future holds.  Maybe six months, a year, two years from now, he’ll have the chance to move here.  If we’re friendly, if we end the relationship on good terms, there’s hope for a future.  But if he moves here six months from now, and we’ve stubbornly stayed together to the point that we’ve grown to resent each other, then the distance won’t matter.

To protect him, to protect us, I had to let him go.  So when he said the words, haltingly, hesitantly, reluctantly, I confirmed them.

I told him that yes, I would take my collar from him (I didn’t actually say those words to him.  I couldn’t.

And writing them now is the third most painful thing I’ve done in my life.  That was something I was not expecting, and was not prepared for.

Fucking hell.

I would release him.  Hearing my confirmation made him hesitate, and I hesitated with him, my strength faltering.  He suggested a trial, and for a moment, I ran with that, suggesting a set period.  But then I remembered who the fuck I am, and who the fuck was on the other end of the line, needing me to be strong enough to let him go.

No.  You’re not going to hurt him anymore.  You’ve done enough.

“It’s the right thing to do,” I told him.  “This isn’t working.”  And God, I hope I sounded more sure of myself to him than I did to myself.

I didn’t.  I know I didn’t.  And I heard it in his silence on the other end, as we both tried to think of something to say.

The rest of the conversation is honestly a blur.  I remember hearing his voice, I remember hearing the pain and the guilt there, I remember hearing the resolve and the strength there, but I don’t remember what he said.

Later, we had the chance to continue, without interruptions.  And that was much better.  We’d both had the chance to process a bit.

And I know this will sound strange (and surprise!  This is what I wasn’t sure I’d remember), but it almost reminded me of a wake.  The conversation before that had been the death.  Painful, with both of us overwhelmed by the loss of this strong, incredible thing we had.

The conversation tonight was like the wake.  The pain was still fresh, but the focus was more on the memories, what brought us together, the things we love about each other.  It was a good way to have closure.

It’s not going to be easy.  I told him we needed some separation.  We needed a few days without communication, so he could start the process of untangling himself from me.

There will be things that will be painful.  For example, the first rule I gave him was that he could not use my first name.  He called me Ma’am.  It was something I loved hearing from him as much as he loved saying it.

The first time he calls me Jen, will hurt.  The first time I read it or hear it will hurt.

A great many things are going to hurt.

But I am not afraid of pain, and I don’t attempt to avoid it, and I don’t pretend I don’t feel it.  It won’t last forever.  And I’ll help him get through it, I’ll steady him if he falters, I’ll support him until he can stand on his own, completely independent of my influence.

And his pain will fade as he distances himself from me.  It’s something he’s reluctant to do, but I will push him along if I need to.  He needs to distance himself from me.  He needs to untangle his mind from me.

Which he will.  He won’t like it but he’ll do it.  He has the strength to do it, and he is capable, once he achieves a level of distance from me, of compartmentalizing and keeping himself focused on the task at hand.

He’ll get back to neutral soon.

But he may be a bit quiet on his blog for awhile.  He asked me if I would write this post, the post we were both dreading, and I told him of course I would.  It was something I was intending to do anyway.  It was my idea to come out on the blog, even though he would’ve preferred to keep it quiet.  He obeyed me, he trusted me, he gave himself to me.  Of course I’m the one writing this.

And I’m the one letting him go.

Because I can handle it.  And I owe it to him; a man I truly love, admire, and cherish.

Yes, it’s the right thing to do.  I know that.  He knows that.

But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“Have a kid,” they said.

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They motherfuckin’ lied.

Out their ass.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my kid.  If I could do it all over again, I’d do it exactly the same way and all that trite bullshit.  She’s pretty damn awesome, if I do say so myself.  I’m kind of proud of myself for making such an awesome kid.

Brag moment (because I’m a parent and this is my blog and I can write about whateverthefuck I want to write about, even if it’s about my kid):

My daughter is in kindergarten, and smart as all hell.  No I’m serious, I know all parents want to think their kids are exceptional in every category.  But I’m not one of those parents.  There are certain things my kid just fucking sucks at.  She’s so damned sensitive and thin-skinned, and she just shuts down if she’s under stress (which I’m hoping is mostly just because she’s five and living a privileged life, and she’ll grow out of it).

Academia happens to be one of her strengths.  According to her most recent testing, she’s a full year ahead in reading and a year and a half ahead in math.  Kid is fragile as fuck, but it’s fine, she’ll be able to wipe her tears with hundred dollar bills when she’s an adult and an astrophysicist or some shit.

I went out and bought some second grade math books to do with her after her regular school lessons, and she’s flying through most those with relative ease.  And I’m having to do it because the pussies who run the homeschool program don’t want to bump her up to an appropriate level for fear of “challenging her too much.”

Oh, you mean shit in her life might actually be hard at some point?  The unmitigated horror!

We have to protect the children and give them participation trophies and create a completely unrealistic view of how the world works, and then bitch and complain when they grow up and are not sufficiently equipped to deal with shit.

Sigh

Whatever.  It’s fine.  I’m done fighting that battle this year.  It’s already half over anyway, and I had to fight to get her on independent study, and fight to allow her to skip the lessons she already exhibits mastery of, and fight to do all this stupid shit you’d think people who make a career out of providing the best education possible to future generations wouldn’t protest against.

But back to my point.

As many pros as there are to reproducing, the impact on one’s kink life is a rather significant entry in the con column.

Like last night.  Upon returning home from coffee with a friend at midnight-ish, I found Kazander lying on the couch, wearing his lacy panties, watching porn on his computer.

Moments later, I found myself sitting next to him, watching porn with him, pulling his panties off, and doing nice and not-so-nice things to his body.

And can I just say I love how masochistic he’s gotten lately?  Because I love how masochistic he’s gotten lately.  He’s never been one for a lot of CBT, but last night, when I pinched his cock and gripped his balls, he whimpered and curled up around me so sweetly, gasping and writhing in that sexy way of his.

Before long, I decided that just pinching wasn’t enough.  Out came the clothespins.

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It’s crazy how much better a dick looks when there are clothespins on it.

Slapping his balls, yanking on the clothespins, pinching and twisting his nipples, and biting his ear were my activities of choice to distract him from the video.

But, as is wont to happen when I watch porn, I got horny.  And I wanted a shower before making him go down on me.

So I set the computer down and told him he was going to pamper and bathe me.  Naturally, the clothespins were going to stay right where they were.

It was so much fun grinding my ass against his cock with the clothespins on.  Or running my fingertips lightly up his shaft, or nudging my knee against his groin.

And the noises he made when I finally took the clothespins off were just amazing.

The general plan was that he was going to lick me to an orgasm or two, then I would bend him over the edge of the bed and fuck him long and hard, and finally let him cum with my cock deep in his sore, raw, throbbing ass.

It started out well.  We went into our bedroom (which is right next to the kid’s bedroom) and locked the door, then I grabbed him by his hair and shoved his face in my cunt.

He licked me to one orgasm, but I wanted another one.  And I was almost fucking there when suddenly I heard crying from the next room.

“Oh, goddammit,” I muttered, pushing Kazander off me and opening the door.  I stood in the spawn’s doorway to see her sitting on the bed, crying.

She always wakes up at some point in the very early morning and comes to sleep in bed with me.  Apparently last night she woke up early.  Seeing that my bedroom door was closed, she went into the living room to look for Kazander, and didn’t see him there, so she started crying.

I reassured her, refilled her cup of water, and tucked her back in.

The mood was basically shot.

But I wasn’t completely cruel.  I would still let him cum.  Once I was sure she was alright and back in bed, I went back to the bedroom and closed the door.  I reached for a dildo and held it up for Kazander to see.

“Wanna take a guess where this is going?” I asked.

“Are you sure you want to do it?” he asked, referring to the possibility of another interruption.

“Yeah, but it’s going to be quick.”

So much for being able to endlessly tease and torment him.

I didn’t give him much time to get used to the size, and shoved the whole thing in him.

He was gasping and whimpering with pain, but his cute little clit was already dripping.  He really is such a butt slut.

It took only a minute or two before he came, I handed him a towel to clean up, pulled the dildo out of him, and that was the somewhat underwhelming finish to what I had intended to be a much longer play session.

Oh well.  We can always try again.  And only 13 more years until she goes off to college.

Chastity questions

Hello Jen,

How does male chastity benefit a man? I used to own a full male chastity belt and would like to own another one. I’m a type “A” personality that would like a woman who’s dominant in bed. I want to know if men become [different] people while locked away in a belt.
I think the best arrangement is a release once a day for making whoopee while handcuffed to the bed. The wife also cleans/shaves the male box area when needed while her man is handcuffed behind his back. He will be in one form of bondage forever! I also have my toenails painted red at all times. Life’s more fun when your toenails are painted.
PS, are your toenails painted?

 

M’kay, so I definitely recommend chastity for you.  Primarily because, judging by this note, you have fallen into the same chasm so many submissive men fall into.

However, to humor you, I’ll answer your question before explaining why you’re going about this entirely the wrong way.

No, chastity won’t make you a different person.  And it benefits men in plenty of ways.  First, and most obviously, it satisfies the kink that you seem to have.  You’d be surprised how common that kink is.  It’s fun.  Go for it.

Secondly, it strengthens the bond between you and your partner.  The only way you can have an orgasm is through her.  Specifically, through pleasing her.  Whether she wants you to wait a certain amount of time, do enough to “earn” an orgasm, or just unlock you whenever she feels like it (all three have their definite strong points, although the amount-of-time thing is my least favorite).

So you start to associate her, and pleasing her, with pleasure of your own.  You’ll feel closer to her, even when her denial frustrates you.

And it’ll shift the focus from your cock, which, let’s be honest, is where 100% of your focus is now.  That will benefit your partner in the short term (because, let’s be honest, not a single straight woman appreciates that focus.  Even male Doms are held to higher standards by their submissives.  The vanilla ones just don’t realize they have other options).  She’s the one who will benefit from that in the short term.  But it’ll benefit you in the long term, too.

You’ll realize how dumb it is to have your penis be your only erogenous zone, as so many men are conditioned to think.  Your entire life, that’s been your only source for sexual pleasure, and you’ve been thinking that’s fine, you’ve been enjoying yourself.  But when you take that completely out of the equation, you discover other things, that you’d been missing.

Really, if you want a closer look at what chastity looks like from the man’s point of view, I suggest looking at blogs written by men in chastity.  Denying Thumper is a good one.  Steeled Snake, Chaste Cyclist, and Thrill of the Chaste immediately come to mind.  I know I’m forgetting people, too (it’s late, and my brain has basically signed off for the day).  Those are all written by men in chastity (Steeled Snake’s blog is shared by him and his wife, who goes by Steeled Snake Charmer).  They can provide insight better than I can.

But honestly dude, you need it.  Your focus is all about what you want, and at the risk of pissing you the fuck off, I have to tell you I couldn’t help but laugh at your little fantasy.

Your head is in entirely the wrong place.

And I mean, I get it.  You want the fantasy.  Fantasies are awesome.  Trust me, I know.  Fantasies are fucking awesome.

But you’re not going to get it by doing what you’re doing.

So you’re a Type A personality.  Awesome, great.  I have no idea what that means in regards to the kind of relationship you want, nor do I particularly care.  And this is another trap that many submissive men fall into.

I know you’re not a doormat.  I can gather that just from the arrogant tone of your writing (and no, that’s not an insult, and no, I’m not offended by it.  I’m a tad bit on the arrogant side, myself).  I can tell that you’re assertive and go for what you want.

Great.  Fantastic.  Don’t (and this is to all submissive men, btw) shove it down my throat in an effort to prove that “you’re still manly, even though you’re submissive.”  The only reason men have to do that is because they’re ashamed of being submissive, because “submissives aren’t real men” or some shit.  And the only reason they’re ashamed of it, despite the fact that some polls showed that more than half of men share these fantasies, more women prefer submissive men to dominant ones, and major media outlets are working to enlighten the public about toxic masculinity in regards to “butt stuff” and other sexual acts that aren’t considered “ultra macho manly,” is because no one with a penis wants to come out and say that it’s okay.

Which is kind of a huge pet peeve Dommes have about submissive men, by the way.  We’re not ashamed of you.  Stop perpetuating this idea that you should be ashamed of us.  It’s annoying.

Whether you’re a Type A or Type B has nothing to do with how masculine or feminine you are (and I think it’s a horrible system, anyway, that is hugely outdated and overly simplistic, originally designed by cardiologists and funded by the tobacco industry to determine who is more at risk for heart disease – Type A is at a significantly higher risk, fyi).  And has nothing to do with your orientation.  For example, going by that system, I’m a Type B.

I mean, of course I’m a Type B.  Anyone who has known me more than a day would know that.

I don’t understand how some people choose to live their lives with such exhausting levels of anxiety and stress.  I’m way too lazy for that shit.  I also don’t care so much about achievement as I do the journey (you know, since multiple studies have shown that happiness comes from the journey, the pursuit of something, rather than the actual achievement, itself).  And I’m the opposite of high-strung.  I don’t need to compete with anyone, I don’t need to brag about myself, and I don’t need things in my life to be so rigid.

I’m a Type B.

And I’m as Dominant as they come.  I know plenty of other Type B Dominants, just as I know plenty of Type A and Type B submissives.  One has literally nothing to do with the other.

You said that because you’re buying into cultural stereotypes instead of looking at actual facts.  You meant to say that you’re outgoing, assertive, and unafraid to stand up for yourself.  You’re a go-getter.  Ambitious, determined, charismatic, and a natural leader.

You’re in good company.  All three of my boys have those traits.  Kazander is the head of his family (my inlaws), and is the driving force in his group of friends.  At work, even his superiors look to him.  Steel is a master manipulator, and a born persuader, able to get pretty much anyone to do pretty much anything.  He’s cunning and clever, a natural hustler, and knows how to get his way.  No matter what life throws at him, he figures out how to adapt and come at it from a new angle.  He’s not one to stay down long, and he’s done incredible things in his life, brought about by sheer force of will.  Sounder handles a huge amount of responsibility at his work and possesses the emotional and mental stability that has made him the rock in his circle of friends.  People from all walks of life, all kinds of social and economic backgrounds, look to him for guidance.  He’s charismatic, charming, he possesses a quiet confidence that doesn’t need to be bragged about, and he never does anything half-assed.

So whatever thoughts you have in your head regarding submissive men, get rid of them.

I’m guessing, because of the way you worded that sentence, that you’re looking for a “vanilla with a side of kink” type of relationship.  And your concern about chastity changing who you are implies that you’re not looking for any kind of power dynamic, just that specific kink.

So the simple answer?  Yes, longterm chastity will have an effect on your personality, at least in the way you interact within a relationship.  It’s kind of impossible for it not to affect you.  By its very nature, it will change you.

But it won’t, for example, change you from a Type A personality to a Type B one.  There’s very little on this planet that would do that.

As far as what you’re looking for, in all honesty, you’re not going to have much luck unless you go with professional keyholders or ProDommes.  I’m sure you can find lifestyle Dommes who are interested in “vanilla with a side of kink” relationships.  I mean, I’ve literally never met one in person, but I’m sure they exist.

But even if you meet one, she’s going to care very little about what you want.  Any Dominant woman is going to laugh and roll her eyes when you tell her what you told me.

Because chastity isn’t about what you want.  It’s about what she wants.  The keyholder is the one in control.  Not you.

And release once a day???  Are you serious???

And in only one position?  Um, that’s boring af.  I would set the bed on fire.

What’s the point of even wearing a chastity device at that point?  Where’s the denial in being released and having sex every day?  Where’s the control?  What, exactly, does your partner get out of that?  Where is her pleasure factored into your scenario?

I mean, I know you’re arrogant, but please tell me you’re not arrogant enough to think that going through that tedious ritual at your command, then stripping down and riding your cock every day, in the exact same position (unless you decide to really switch things up and do reverse cowgirl) would be satisfying for any woman.

Find me a woman who would go for that.

No Domme would.  She’d laugh you out of the building.

You’d probably have slightly better luck with a submissive, or a switch, but even then, you’re not going to be able to satisfy her desires.  Just as I’m expected to take care of my subs, male Doms are expected to take care of theirs.  No submissive woman is going to put up with that for long if you can’t satisfy her and give her what she needs.

So that leaves you with vanilla women.  You’ll have to find one open-minded enough to go with the chastity thing, and interested enough to indulge your incredibly, laughably high-maintenance desires, but disinterested enough that she doesn’t start doing her own research and discover on her own that you’re kind of dicking her over.

You’re too focused on what you want.  You’re focused on your dick, and how to make it happy.  Which is fine, if that’s what’s been working for you.  But you need to face the fact that what you’re asking for is completely unrealistic.

You’re even being unintentionally demeaning to me, by trying to bring me into your kinks.  Why in the hell does it matter to you whether my toenails are painted, if you’re not looking for something to turn you on?

Nah, bro.  I’m not your jerkoff material.  Thanks, though.

I know this isn’t the answer you want, but it’s the truth.  You have two options.  You can either get exactly what you want from a professional, or you’re going to have to take a long look at what you’re expecting out of a relationship, and how realistic it actually is.

If you want a realistic, real-life situation, you’re probably going to have a power exchange that will extend beyond the bedroom.  But even to vanilla women, submissive men are more attractive than dominant men, anyway.

But the scenario you described, in the kind of relationship dynamic you described, just isn’t going to happen.