Haha…this is my horoscope for today:
“Communication may be strained over the next few days, but it’s crucial to maintain a healthy perspective today instead of focusing on an issue that ultimately doesn’t matter. Your biggest concern isn’t what to say; it’s whether or not to say anything at all.”
God, ya think? I mean, he’s gone out of town for the next few days, so what’s that mean? Yeah, I have my whiny-ass, needy-bitch, poor-pitiful-me-and-why-doesn’t-he-need-me-as-much-as-I-need-him (or at least need as much communication as I do) mini-meltdown.
As I always do.
Yep, this is gonna be that post, so if it even makes it to the blog (see my horoscope’s dire warnings above), you should all just skip right on by.
He’s gone to a family thing for four days. I haven’t seen him since Sunday, and due to the fact that his brother will be there with him this Sunday when he gets back, and then I have plans Monday and Tuesday nights, I probably won’t see him until Wednesday, if then (and who knows, after reading this maybe I’ll piss him off again and he won’t want to see me Wednesday.) Because this always happens when he goes away. I feel neglected and lonely and ignored and unimportant to him and I act out, either in email or IM or by blogging, venting my displeasure at not being the center of his universe, and he gets hurt that I don’t just know that he’s thinking about me, and why do I always do this, why can’t I just be happy that he’s enjoying himself, and know that yes, he does miss me, even if he doesn’t say so?
And he is one-hundred percent totally correct. I know this.
But four days without an email from him? Four days of maybe – maybe – a word or two here and there via text message? Why the hell can’t he tell his family that he needs to check his email and write me a note? How much time time/effort would it take? He’s got a laptop now. I thought that was why he got the fucking thing. Why won’t he take it with him??
Yes, he finally got texting on his phone. For which I am grateful, really, truly, abjectly grateful, otherwise I wouldn’t hear a thing from him until probably late Monday, after his brother left (because god forbid he should check his email/send email while his brother is there.) But if he feels so bad about emailing me when he’s with his family, I know he’s not going to want to text. Or even if he does, it’ll only be a couple words, because texting on his ancient phone is too damn difficult.
In normal circumstances we exchange emails, or at least play Lexulous, all throughout the day. We’re pretty much in off-and-on (if minimal), communication all day; and sometimes lots more than minimal depending on what’s going on. And now I am going to go four days with a couple one or two word text messages?? “On our way.” “Got here safe.” “The weather’s nice.” etc.??
And that bitchy, temper-tantrum-throwing part of me feels like throwing one. I feel like punishing him. Not emailing, not blogging, replying to his text messages with monosyllabic replies myself. I’ll show him what it feels like!
But I know I won’t. I’ll write to him, just like I always do. I’ll send him pics of the Boychild’s and my roller coaster adventure. I’ll send him links to news clips I think he’ll enjoy and post stuff on my blog that I hope makes him hot. I’ll email him about my dates and the boys and girls I’ve been flirting with and tell him about my bread and butter notes and email and text him about how much I miss him and how I can’t wait till he gets back home. Because I can’t not communicate with him. I’m just not built that way. And even if I could maintain “radio silence” I am pretty sure he wouldn’t notice. Or he might notice, but he wouldn’t be hurt or upset by it. “I figured you were busy,” he’d say, and shrug. So it wouldn’t be punishing him at all. He’s not built that way. Silence, inattention, is punishment to me. He doesn’t perceive it that way though. He knows I love him and think about him all the time, and he’s happy for me to be so busy that I don’t have time to send him a note.
He’s secure. He’s awesome. He really is happy when I am happy without him.
I don’t get it.
Okay, I’m not that shallow – I am happy when he is happy, with or without me. I just…want to know he’s thinking about me. Even when he’s with others. Like I do about him.
So yeah, it’s me, not him. It’s all mine – I own it. I’m needy and insecure.
I am however, getting better. All this whining I’m doing is really sort of an echo of the intensity I used to feel. It isn’t as sharp and deep as it was in the beginning when he would go away. That’s due to communication and effort on our part – together – to find ways to alleviate it. Well, first we had to address it. He never even realized I felt any of this in the beginning. I don’t know that he was even aware that anyone feels the need for communication like I’m talking about. I asked him one time if he would please let me know when he got safely to wherever it was that he was traveling. A phone call or a VM, maybe? Just so I know he’s safe and sound? He seemed astounded that I might want to know that. I was astounded at his inability to fathom why I might want to know it. He used to travel all the time for his job, internationally as well. “Didn’t your wife want to know when you got in safe to your destination? Didn’t you call her and let her know?” Apparently he had not, and she was fine with that. That’s incomprehensible to me. So, understanding that basic gulf in expectations and needs was the first part to fixing the issue. We’re there now (phase one complete), and now we’re on to phase two, finding ways to address my (admittedly insanely-over-active) need for communication: 1. me learning to manage my insecurities and accept that a lower level of communication doesn’t mean he’s forgotten I exist; and 2. him finding ways to be more communicative in ways that don’t feel intrusive and restrictive to him.
But there’s still that small, needy part of me that just wants his attention. A note. A text. Something.
There’s part of me that wonders if this is always the way it is when there is D/s involved. Is the bottom always the needy one? Can a Top even be needy, or is that anathema to being in control? Because being needy – and not getting that need met (and yes I know the difference between a need and a want) – makes me feel out of control. So is not needing being in control?
Here’s the fucked up thing about that though, about that out-of-control feeling: that feeling – that being on the bottom, even in this painful, sucky way – somehow works in a masochistic way. It hurts. It aches. I need. I feel despair and out of control and as though if he doesn’t throw me a crumb of attention, I will curl up in a ball and wither away.
Life becomes bleak.
But when he comes back, when he restores order and shows me attention again – my world rights itself. It’s sunny and bright and makes sense.
It’s fucking stupid. I hate being that girl, the one that can’t live without her man. Where’s my independence? Am I really that craven?
Why yes, yes I am.
It’s the push/pull of pain play, on an emotional level. There’s part of me that feeds off the angst and insecurity, just like that part that feeds off the physical pain and the endorphin rush it brings. That feeds off being the object of brutality and then of kindness; of depravity and then of desire.
Epilogue: He has been texting me. Yeah, three-word sentences. But it helps. And me…I’m just gonna keep doing what I do. I can’t do anything but. Tell him little things to amuse him while he’s away. Tease him with naughty bits and try to make him laugh while he’s there. Do something nice for him to come home to, so he knows I was thinking about him while he was gone.
This is what that looks like: it’s 12:30 in the afternoon. I’m supposed to be home, having gotten off work early so we can get on the road (Ad and I are driving halfway to OH together, before he splits off to go to a wedding in MI.) Instead I am standing at Ws kitchen sink, washing the dishes he left there before he left for WI. I stopped by on my way home to set up a pot of a coffee for him (a specialty blend I got him) so that it’ll be waiting, ready to brew when he gets back, and a pint of vanilla ice cream and two servings of the blackberry crumble and sauce I made, with instructions for serving, so he and his brother will have something special for dessert when they get in. I wanted to ignore the dishes – I’m running late – but I just can’t do it. I want his house clean and neat when he walks in. So I wash them up quickly and wipe the counters down, but I refuse to go upstairs to his bedroom, because I know if I do I’ll end up changing the sheets and making his bed so he can sleep in clean, fresh, sheets. I really don’t have time for that.
And he hasn’t even found the time to respond, even with a one or two word text, to the message I sent him when I woke up.
Yeah, I wish he would do those kinds of things things for me…but…getting texting on his phone was sort of him doing that for me. Trying to meet me halfway. And, to be fair, texting on his phone IS a bitch, so I didn’t expect long soliloquies from him anyway (and he was perfectly upfront about his phone’s and his own limitations regarding it and not to expect much.)
So, yeah, I won’t be happy til he’s home again, but I think I’ll be okay. It is what it is, right?
Besides, I have other roller coasters to ride.