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October 30, 2008
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I had a good day today.

I went out to an island with a friend. We left the City, and we could see the sky as a big wide dome, instead of in strips and blocks and slivers. We went to an organic, biodynamic farm and an indigenous after school program. We met some really curly heirloom cows and gave them some hay, and we met some little kids and helped them with their homework. It was exactly what I needed.

After splattering my anger all over the internet last night, I was talking to the friend on the bus about how I’d been letting the City get to me. It’s been making me close into myself, shut myself off. She’d been having the same problem, except she has enough sense to get away as often as possible.

We started talking about human relationships, and polyamory, and anarchism, and land-based life, and power structures. I mentioned that I’d been reading Subversive Submissive, describing the blog in a general way to sound her out about what she might think of ritual power-structures co-existing with the deconstruction of conditioned power-structures. She basically said that while she hadn’t hung out with many people into BDSM, her automatic response was that as long as people were aware of and understood the power-structures they were working with, if that’s what turned them on, she didn’t see why not.

I chose to tell her I was dominant.

It wasn’t a situation where I felt obligated to tell her, or where she was really curious or prying and I told her to avoid greater awkwardness, or I admitted it after being discovered, or I told her in rebuttal or defensiveness. I took a risk, and I chose to tell her, simply because I wanted to. Other than two of my best friends, she’s the only non-kinky person I’ve told.

I told her it kind of terrified me that I’d just told her.

“You think too much,” she told me.

“Yeah,” I laughed. “It’s my greatest weakness.”

I started crying.

And she just reached over and started petting my hair, without saying a thing.

And for once in my life I didn’t try to stop myself, or say, “It’s okay, you don’t have to do that,” or say, “I’m fine.” I just let myself cry for a few minutes with my eyes closed, and accepted the gift.

“Thanks,” I said finally. She gave a little laugh. “You’re really good at that.”

“I don’t think I am good at it,” she said. “I feel like if I was good at it I would know what to say to make it all better.”

“But that’s just it. You knew there was nothing to say, and to just touch me. So many people have forgotten how to touch. I would have tried to find the right thing to say.” I know I would have, because that’s what I’ve always done, is try to find the right thing to say. Touch has always been secondary. And sometimes, most of the time, words are useless.

“I’m just so bad with words,” she said (she’s actually not).

“It’s probably better that way.”

I’ve been meaning, meaning, meaning to try to relax my own verbosity, communicate through body language, move away from this verbal-centric culture, but I always fall back on my default. But she gave me what I needed all without saying a word.

Today was what I needed.

2 Comments leave one →
  1. October 30, 2008 8:58 am

    Don’t be afraid. No one can blackmail you with the truth.

  2. ranat permalink
    October 30, 2008 12:36 pm

    That’s what I have to keep reminding myself. It wasn’t even that I was afraid of her blackmailing me, or ridiculing me, because she’s not that kind of person. I was afraid of that I’d been able to tell her at all.

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