- I think too long and too hard about things.
- I pick things apart and wonder what I missed.
- I want people to express themselves the same way I do.
- I realize they won’t do that no matter how many times I want that to be the case.
- I try to make peace with what they are able to do.
- I do for like 48 hours and then overreact again.
- I really do make peace with it because it’s not worth all that angst.
- I fixate on someone or something else, usually work.
The last twenty minutes has had me thinking about different music. I was hearing am I poly but to the tune of Sorry Ms. Jackson. I don’t know that I am. I think I’m okay in theory with the idea because the people I have been interested in lately made it clear that they were not really about that monogamous life. As I was browsing Fet tonight, I came across and old photo from one of the nice men that I am not all interested in but who provides great submissive brain fodder. There’s a photo of him sitting in a chair with a submissive resting her head in his lap. Nothing in the description in and of itself is all that stimulating. Except, in the photo he’s fully clothed in a suit and she’s nude. That juxtaposition is sort of the epitome of all my submissive longing. My heart of hearts wants to kneel in front of one man who cherishes that action and me. There’s safety and peace in that image. And while I wouldn’t kill to get it, I wonder what I would do to be embraced in that fashion. That requires living together or being in an established dynamic with someone that is either on that level or who wants to get on that level. And by on the level I just mean maintaining that kinda of energy within the dynamic.
The other song was really the result of an American Dad episode that made me think about Queen of the Damned. I’ve written about that movie before. It’s maybe one of the few times a somewhat younger white guy has been even remotely attractive to me. And by remotely attractive, I mean I left the theater in need of an orgasm. Some of that just may have been the energy of that scene and my relief that it wasn’t Tom fucking Cruise but I have never wanted to be a half dead millennia old vampire before as much as I did that night. The next morning totally bat shit crazy but THAT night woosah.I cannot hear that song without thinking about that scene and it makes my girly bits tingle and the part of my brain that thrives on pain goes yes daddy.
Music can set me off in ways that other stimuli cannot. And maybe I should clarify. Music can put in in the headspace that helps me disconnect from the pressure that is outside of our scene very quickly. Mr. Wolf had me turn on a playlist before he really planned to hurt me. It would cover my moans a bit but it would also be a gentle push to my subconscious that it was time to let go and enjoy what was about to happen. I don’t even have that playlist anymore. Not sure if I deleted it or it just vanished when I switched computers but it’s gone. I can make another one I’m sure but right now I have no motivation to do so. Masturbating doesn’t require music for me. A good mental or visual image will do the trick. Plus the folks that have me overthinking in phase one of this post tend to tap into primal defile me brain not kneel at your feet and let me serve you brain. Not because I don’t want them to but because I recognize that’s not who they want to be for me. Guess we’ve come full circle.