Journey Into Submission

a bdsm love journal

Disappear

There is more that comes between us sitting on that bus stop bench and this conversation, standing in front of the last dying but still wildly fragrant blooms of a honeysuckle bush, but it is not yet meant for public consumption. It involved discussion of our future, my expectations and preferences, and Michael’s willingness and ability to carefully consider his choices. It was a reassuring and hopeful conversation but one laden with inherent disappointment and heart break. Joy can not be taken from words spoken when happiness is put at risk.

“What are you going to do tonight?” Michael asked with genuine interest. We had walked around the block and stood across the street from my car, hidden in the half dark of a tree sheltering the sidewalk. He was due to meet Susan at his house in a few minutes and I was due to spend the evening alone.

“I’m going to go home, eat dinner, feel my feelings, and go to sleep,” I assured him. I was tired and resigned but inside a glimmer of hope flickered from our conversation. It needed nurturing, patience, and a sublime amount of calm to flourish, but I could feel myself growing to the task.

“For my sake, resist the urge to commit them to paper…” he half-joked. He took my body in his arms and I rested against his strength. The purely physical comfort I get from Michael cannot be discounted in moments of stress and trouble such as this.

“What? Oh, I’m too tired and upset. I don’t think I can write tonight.” I rested my head against his chest and answered slowly. The thought of sitting in front of my computer and having to elaborate and enumerate my hurts was oppressive. I just wanted to be.

“Make sure you take care of yourself. I want to know if you are crying or upset. Don’t disappear,” he insisted.

“You’re the one who does that,” I remarked sharply, pulling back to look at him. Anger and disappointment had loosened my tongue, as had his insistence that I speak instead of mutely shaking my head.

“What? Disappear? Oh, you mean being slow to respond to your messages. I get a lot of work calls so I set my phone aside whenever I’m with someone. I do the same thing when I’m with you,” he said, pulling me close again.

“That makes sense,” I said, nodding.

And it did. In that instant, all of the resentment and frustration I felt for every time he took an hour to respond to a text just because Susan was in town slipped away. It wasn’t a reflection on me or his affection for me, just a habit born of politeness. It wouldn’t matter if he was with Susan or Carrie or any one of a half dozen girls I could name, he would afford all of them the same consideration he gives me when I am with him.

I am slowly learning that is not the characteristics of his actions or the speed with which he responds to my electronic missives that define Michael’s love for me, it is the feelings in his heart and the words that find their way to my ears. I am becoming ever more convinced that what he tells me truly reflects his passion for me. He doesn’t say things because they are pretty or flattering or flowery, he says them because he means them and he needs me to hear them with my heart.

So I went home, talked to my sister and my cats, remembered my deep and abiding love, banished worse-case scenarios, and went to bed. Michael loves me, I love him, we have a future together, and with that I can be content.

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3 Comments

  1. I’ve been deeply appreciative of these little lessons of relationship that come of polyamory. You learn that quality, not quantity is what matters between two people. You can live every day beside a person you take for granted and just never notice the little things he or she does that make all the difference in the world. But every moment with a loved one holds meaning when its limited in some way.

    And one is forced to examine the real meaning of little things like his habits with giving undivided attention to the one he’s with. I take this stuff into my marriage and its just so much better than it ever was before. There is a reverence and respect in my interactions with people that I didn’t have before these recent years. I learned these skills in moments such as these. They are a grace Gray Lily and it is good to watch them being noted so directly by you here.

  2. Gray Lily, while not as loquacious as Greenwoman, she expresses my views to a degree.
    This is a very positive post, you are seeing the smaller things that tie two people together.
    Love and warm hugs,
    Paul.

  3. flighty

    Gray Lily,

    All of Michael’s attentions are wonderful. I want them to be “enough” for you. Please don’t accept what is not enough. Always be wise and remember that in this life there is only one person looking after you… that is you..

    hugs,
    flighty

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