I’m going to seem my “fantasy boyfriend!” (Uhm… this is why guys hate Yanni). Thanks, DH for being a good sport. Hold on tight– I may be up on that piano…
An eclectic fusion of ethnic sounds… He’s performed at the Acropolis, Taj Mahal, Forbidden City, El Morro in Puerto Rico. How fabulous it would be to see him in one of those amazing places! I’ll have to content myself with a mere US stage.
I was always in love with his 90s look… but he’s aged pretty well.
I like grilled cheese.
I like PB&J.
Because it’s with you.
Easy, fast, quick, yummy.
Gooey, basic, with little preparation.
I like slow-cooked barbeque ribs.
Because it’s with you.
Because it’s with you.
Slow, unhurried, long, and lingering.
Nibbles, licks, sucking deliciousness.
I like lobster with drawn butter
Sultry, salty, creamy, sweet
Expensive, delicacy, savoring, of the sea.
Opened, exposed, cracked, removed from the shell.
I love the smorgasbord of our love.
It’s one place I don’t need to be on a diet!
I crave the variety: the simple, the basic, the profound, the complicated, the sultry, the dangerous.
Please feed me a variety, sir.
…Grilled cheese and PB&J can get old…
So today was the day we ladies all dread.
Yep. That day. For me, because of having family history, some suspicious mammos, and biopsies, it’s quite the production. I have to drive to a major medical facility that deals with people at risk, and have the full-blown “Diagnostic Mammogram” and Ultrasound. The good part is that they read your results immediately and you are seen by your doctor the same day (and do biopsies if necessary). The bad news is this easily takes up half of your day.
Let me just say now that if this was a foretaste of nipple clamps, perhaps I’m not cut out for them. This time there was a strange little plate used during a few of the images that was designed to capture JUST my nipple and a little beyond. Yeah. They love that compression… and… well… I actually did let out a loud yelp. So embarrassing! The technician was wonderful, but explained to me that with the implants we’d be doing a few more images than normal; that some had to be with my implant “pushed out of the way” (um… I know my face registered horror at this thought, but it wasn’t as bad as I had envisioned), all the while admiring my new boobs and assuring me the scars were healing quite nicely. Then the “go sit and wait for a moment while we read the images” and the “come back in for a few more images (which of course always puts you on edge–what did they see??)
Then the ultra sounds, which is essentially how they do the baby ones, except it takes a LONG time! Gooey (warmed) gel all over you boobs, and someone stimulating them with the ultrasound wand for a very long time, searching for any abnormalities. You kinda can see the screen, see when they pause over something darkish, pause the image, snap a pic, then continue on looking for other darkish spots. This is the most nerve wracking, as of course I think all sorts of horrible things, and I just wish the lady tech would give me a little blow-by-blow.
Updating my charts with the nurse, I had to mention the tummy tuck and augmentation, of course. When the doc came in, she was full of congratulations over my having done this. It was such a welcome contrast from what I was expecting (i.e., to be judged, shamed, chastised for getting silicone, etc.–she actually was very pro-silicone). I said, “hey, 56, when would I do this? What the heck?” and she started asking me about the cost and was I happy (she was a fabulous looking 60 and said she was considering). As she examined my breasts in all the positions, she kept exclaiming, “these are fantastic! VERY natural. I can’t tell at all!”
Whoa. What an affirmation. This is a world-class surgical doctor at a major teaching hospital. I last showed her the TT scar, warning her that was one of the down sides. “That? That looks amazing for 5 months, and it will continue to fade…” Seriously– who do you get to show your boobs to, and get a compliment? In my case it’s my DH. He’s the only one who gets to see and touch them. And, well, yeah, out in the waves at the beach I flashed one of my nurse friends who also had BA done.
I told her it meant a lot to hear this from a “real doctor” (sorry, I realize my plastic surgeon is a “real doctor” but you get my drift– one who deals with medicine). I think I walked out a little taller.
Oh– and everything is great! I aced the titty test!
(Now–to get serious about this weight… Too many cheats this summer!)
It came to my attention that there are many visitors to my blog who perhaps are visiting here for the first time. They may be Googling the terms that link to my blog, searching for insights about marriages in trouble, better sex, or kink. They click and find my front page may contain a racy fictional fantasy story, or a random thought on yoga. So I thought from time to time I will post a synopsis of my journey, and some of the lessons I’ve learned. My regular readers may want to skim or skip such postings altogether– however I also know that some will have awesome thoughts to add to the mix!
If you grew up anytime in the past 4 or 5 decades, you most likely heard the “equality in marriage” mantra. That two people should be “equal partners,” that decisions should be made together, 50-50, and that women shouldn’t be relegated to stereotypical womanly duties such as housekeeping, cooking, child rearing, or pleasing her husband. It’s doubtful that many of us had the “obey” word in our marriage vows.
I am the first to appreciate what “equal rights” has afforded women over the past century: the right to vote; educational opportunities; fewer occupational stereotypes; equality in the workforce, including equal pay for equal work; respect at higher levels of business, government, and medical fields; and men who did not have to remain stereotypically “male” when it came to participating in the home. Dads were involved in more than the conception of their children: from pregnancy to childbirth, on to diapers, feedings, and other parental duties, dads could enjoy quality relationships with their offspring, rather than “lord it over them.” I think mankind is better for having nurtured this parenting style for men, and more kids who grew up in intact families over the past 2 or 3 decades were likely to have had an involved– and evolved– father. But nearly 50% had an absent dad or no dad, and plenty had very flawed and/or terrible dads as their male model.
My father, a man who married in the 1950s, relates tales of the one time my mother left us alone with him, and his trauma of having to change a
diaper. Mother came home to a horrendous mess, and clearly learned it wasn’t ever worth leaving her young children alone with their dad again. The nostalgic tale that Dad loves to tell over and over again is how when he came home from work to take his evening nap, Mother would wake him with a freshly washed, baby-powdered bundle of cooing joy (and a meal on the table). Dad loved babies if they were clean, sweet smelling, adorable, and with a happy disposition. The moment kids acquired language and could ask questions and reason, he had no use for them other than to remind them of their peon status in his eyes. We were told that we frequently needed to be “knocked down a peg,” and punishments could become abusive. “I’ve forgotten more than you’ll ever know” was one of Dad’s common, dismissive (and clearly insecure) retorts whenever we shared new learning or thoughts with him. As we grew into “alien” teenagers, his verbal and emotional abuses increased, and Mother was often to blame that we weren’t still clean, sweet smelling, adorable and happy bundles of cooing joy. After all, Dad was too “busy” in the business world to be involved in child-rearing. That was Mother’s job, and he frequently reminded her what a failure she was at it–and that every questionable trait we exhibited clearly were the “bad/weak genes” from Mother’s side of the family. Somewhere deep down I believe my mother didn’t completely buy into the accusation of being a failure to her children, but I do know she died greatly unappreciated for all she did, and all she put up with.
Because I grew up with this “traditional-minded” authoritarian father, who also happened to be an abusive bully, I vowed to NEVER find myself in such a marriage. All the “equality stuff” I was surrounded by as a girl of the 60s sounded pretty good to me. I’d never let a man treat me THAT way. Any woman who demurred or submitted to her husband seemed a “doormat” or “weak” to me, what my mother had been turned into in her efforts to uncomplainingly and lovingly serve my father.
Irony of ironies though, as I met and dated men through my 20s, I felt most attracted to the take-charge type of men. Because I wasn’t loved and cuddled and affirmed by the first man in my life, I ached for that connection. Sex was a sure-fired way to get such affirmation. At least for a moment in time, I was held, hugged, kissed, cuddled, and made to feel appreciated. In some cases as part of our “play,” I enjoyed dominance and the kink that went along with it. Yet at the same time, I was determined to be a “strong” woman who could stand on her own two feet and never “need” a man. Trusting a man was an anathema to me, and I’m sure most of my suitors saw this confusing dichotomy. I was having a tough time finding a comfortable middle ground. I felt I wanted a man to take care of me, yet I couldn’t let down my guard to fully trust a man that much. Looking back, it’s easy to see why most men didn’t want to commit to a woman who made it clear she didn’t “need” them.
I had one “pseudo-Christian” suitor who gave this analogy of the 50-50 marriage: “we’re in the sailboat, headed straight for the rocks. We both have our hand on the tiller. One of us wants to go left and the other right. We can’t agree, and we crash into the rocks because one of us can’t submit.” In a marriage of wifely submission, I was told I should be able to let go of the tiller and allow him to take over, take control, make a decision, when we couldn’t come to a compromise. I couldn’t wrap my head around the concept, it felt very frightening to me to relinquish my control to a man. We argued endlessly about equality and compromise and submission. In the end, things obviously didn’t work out for us, in part due to my dogmatic approach to equality, and for his part, talking the talk but not able to walk the walk (he couldn’t finish college, hold down jobs, he continued to have childish or irresponsible behaviors, and wasn’t trustworthy; he had very poor leadership skills). Even though I realize he wasn’t the man for me in the long run, his arguments always haunted me.
I spent the first 20 years of my marriage struggling with the equality model. One of the real problem with this model is that both parties tend to spend a lot of time trying to figure out if the other is holding up to his/her end of the split, and worrying about any tip in the “fair balance.” It’s hard to be sacrificial and selfless with this model.
The wisdom of my husband during our courtship astounds me now. He seemed to know I wanted, needed, a leader. He basically ignored my feminism, and expressed that he wanted to take care of me and the family we wanted to have together. That is why I fell in love with him, he was willing to “man up” but not force me to submit to his quiet, fair, benevolent leadership (a model I was unfamiliar with). We didn’t argue about “fair” and “equal” as we approached the altar. He knew all along that he’d be fair. I presumed that it would all be “equal.”
The biggest leap of trust (well-founded but unknowingly) that I made initially was to give up my career and professional salary, sell my assets, merge with his, and become a “dependent wife.” In large part this decision was made because we wanted to start a family, and we both weren’t too keen on letting others raise our children. Still, over the years I struggled with balance of power, and become resentful of what I’d given up– he who has the money, has the power. DH made most of the financial decisions for our family, but he was also the one willing to make the sacrifices before anyone else did when the budget was tight. He was an excellent financial planner, always thinking towards the future for college funds and retirement savings. I on the other hand had always been a carpe diem person who rarely saved and had to be very careful not to overdraw my account. Luxury items and vacations weren’t always possible. Shortly after the birth of our children, I grew panicked at the prospects of totally and completely relying on DH. I did not want to relinquish control. I started working part-time in positions where I either could take my children with me, or leave them for a minimal amount of time at a preschool program or with a sitter in my home (DH remained adamant that daycare would not be an option, and I agreed). I returned to school for a new profession, leaving him with toddlers on weeknights and all day Saturdays, for more than a year. When I went full-time in my new career, DH often picked our children up from extended care at school, since my hours would sometimes keep me at work until 6 pm or later; I usually had work to bring home each night and sometimes DH took over baths and bedtimes. DH never once asked for my salary to be added to the “pot.” I did use it for all the “extras:” to decorate our home, purchase items for the home, finance family vacations, kid lessons and sport costs, occasional luxury items, and my own clothing and other personal expenses. Sometimes my salary went to supplement the grocery bill when I didn’t “feel like” sticking to DH’s grocery budget (cash given to me in an envelope). There came a time that I just banked my checks and went on a self-imposed budget, as I thought that perhaps I’d at some point in the future need to have to fund start-up costs and be self-supporting when I eventually, inevitably would leave the marriage. DH paid all the other family bills: savings, college funds, mortgage, insurance, healthcare, cars, utilities, food, church and charitable giving, some entertainment, kid needs, etc. I honored his financial conservatism by not spending extravagantly or foolishly, contented myself with driving basic mini-vans, sewing clothes, shopping at discount stores, and did without the pool in the back yard that every other neighbor had. However our own personal relationship iced and we were not happy in our “equal” marriage. My attempts to keep things “fair” led to more and more estrangement.
Three years into the marriage, I took my three toddlers to “stay” for the summer at a family vacation home 1,000+ miles away, while DH remained at home for his job. Although it was left unsaid, this was my attempt at a trial separation, and we both knew it. DH was extremely hurt and it drove a great wedge between us. I quickly learned that single parenthood was hard, and that at the very least in DH I had support and an awesome father. I couldn’t separate my children from such a father. I told myself I had to “tough out” my emotional issues with the marriage, and avail myself of the support my kids and I needed.
Early in our marriage we had agreed upon a Christian parenting program we wanted to follow. We became great proponents of the program, talked the talk, and eventually lead several classes. We were the “Christian parenting experts” in our church circle. Half of the program dealt with the foundational importance of the husband and wife relationship. We were frauds in this respect, but tried our best to raise Godly children in spite of our issues and lack of this important foundation. I also sought mentorship from an awesome Christian wife and mom involved in this program, and long-distance we met each week, talked, prayed, and I was given assignments: books and scripture to read about wifely submission and forgiveness of past hurts; getting my own spiritual house in order by getting disciplined about morning quiet times; bringing order into my days; respecting and loving my husband. I was in such total rebellion at the time, that I could not succeed at any of the assignments, and this amazing mentorship relationship was abandoned. I kept sinking deeper and deeper into an abyss of depression and anger, ate myself nearly 100 pounds heavier, compromised my health, and was miserable.
The more I refused to work in harmony with him and follow his lead, the more we grew apart. I was angry all the time, he was hurt and dismayed. He put his head down and forged ahead with what was necessary to keep our home and family humming along with a minimum of disruption, but we were very unhappy as a couple. Although we hadn’t come to the point of taking separate beds, we had essentially stopped being intimate. We were platonic roommates and like strangers living under the same roof. We “kept it together” for the sake of the kids, rarely fought openly, but they were smart. They knew things were bad. Later they’d reveal to me, how as teens, they’d hole up in a bedroom behind closed doors and discuss who would go with which parent when we inevitably separated.
I was silently counting down the days until our kids would leave home and I’d be “free” to leave as well. I had all sorts of schemes and plans, many of them quite viable. I could rely on housing and financial help from family, employment from old connections, and would have been able to “start over.” It broke my heart that my kids would have to deal with holidays as children of divorce, but vowed that I’d stay “friends” with their father and make the best of things.
In 2012, I read a sensationalized fictional book series that had come out in 2011. It was a book that many thought was stupid, inane, and poorly written, and reviled for its deviant eroticism. Yes, THAT book. I read it because DH was enjoying a SNL parody mocking the book, and I heard the word “spank.” What THAT book did for me was help me to realize how much I wanted two things in my life: a hot, kinky sex life; and a dominant, take-charge male. I thought, what the heck? I’ll just tell DH exactly that. I told him that without intimacy between us as a married couple, I didn’t see a way forward for our marriage post-kids–and I needed to know if he was interested on working on this.
Thank God he said he wanted to work on a marriage of intimacy and trust.
From confessing to him that I required an intimate connection in my marriage, to gradually exposing my desires for kinky, along with tons of internet research and the support of wonderful bloggers– I learned about the lifestyles of Domestic Discipline and Dominance/submission. These resonated for me loudly. I wanted something like this. Everyone praised the life-altering and joy-producing affects of these dynamics on their marriages. The more I researched and studied, the more it took me full circle back to the mentorship study I’d done early in my marriage. I suddenly recognized what wifely submission was! It had strong Biblical underpinnings, hopefully with a twist of contemporary fun and consensual kink. The day my transformation began with a promise to DH of my unconditional submission to his leadership, was the day my marriage began to heal.
The change started with me.
DH often would chuckle when I initially reminded him of my need for his leadership and Dominance over me– both day-to-day and sexual. He frequently would accuse that I didn’t possess a submissive bone in my body, and could never relinquish my control freak. Nevertheless, I continued to work on submitting to him, with a lot of great support and advice from fellow sub bloggers and their Doms. This attitude included: not having to always be right; agreeing to his decisions and suggestions more times than not; respectfully offering counterpoints without an agenda for “the win”; showing him honor and respect in public, ALWAYS; building him up and showing my appreciation for all of his wonderful, loyal, trustworthy qualities. Our communications, affection, trust, and mutual respect all began to improve. We WANTED to be around each other, we enjoyed each other! Our intimacy improved and he tentatively would try the BDSM kinky stuff I desired and which really turned me on. He began to remind me that whether or not I had ever acknowledged it, he ALWAYS had been in control, had always led our family. I had chosen to be in dissent, I had chosen not to follow. I had kept yanking that tiller back MY WAY and crashing us into the rocks. No more. I didn’t want to be that control-freak, distrustful woman any longer. I loved having a leader, a Head of Household, a gentleman-Dominant, a man I chose to respect, honor and serve.
Our kids noticed immediately, and despite their “ick” response when we showed open affection now, I know they were smiling behind their scowls. Individually they shared with me how they loved seeing Dad and Mom love each other… and I took opportunities to share (especially with my girls) the beauty of a Biblical marriage in which the husband was the head of the wife and the wife submitted.
My take away lesson, and the one I want to share with a hurting world? The marriage equality myth stands poised to tear down your marriage. Face it, you wouldn’t want to live in a leaderless country or work in a place where there were no supervisors or directors. It would be chaos. We can be strong, intelligent, educated women in the workplace and elsewhere, but feel drawn to having a man take care of us and lead us in a “traditional marriage”–AND be deliriously happy. If you in turn commit to serve him and submit to him, a true man will make you his princess, seek your happiness and the best for you, trust you with his heart, and honor you. Maybe even spank you once in a while…(WINK WINK!).
This sounds very archaic and overly simplistic, and perhaps heresy to feminists, but sometimes we just over-complicate things. IMHO, “equality” in marriage is a road paved with disastrous results. A circle of love, honor, trust, and submission to an honorable leader, gentleman and Dominant: sheer joy.
Surrender to his love and leading, wives. Tell your man you want to follow him. He may not believe it at first… so show him.
It’s the best decision I’ve made in my life.
Today we did my favorite yoga pose. Although the ab muscles still aren’t working fully, I do rock at balance poses, if I do say so myself, and I couldn’t resist treating myself to an attempt. I held the dancer, and yes, my leg made it above my head level!!
I’m sore tonight, but feeling accomplished! Can’t wait for my body to rebound 100%! I’m going to ask my yogi friend to take pics.
Here are last year’s attempts:
Last week I was out with a group of friends, and who should walk into the restaurant but an old neighbor.
It had been several years since I’d seen her and we actually never had socialized or gotten to know each other in more than a good neighbor way. She was sweet, pleasant, polite, and she and her husband were very quiet, keep-to-themselves types. No kids. They lived in their house for the same 2 decades we’d been there. When they sold the house and moved, I did not know many details, but thought they were moving for his job.
Turns out they divorced. She mentioned that now, several years later, she had decided to move back west where she was raised. We exchanged numbers and talked about having lunch before she left the area for good.
I wasn’t sure how this lunch would go or why I even felt compelled to have lunch. We were nearly strangers. But sometimes God works in mysterious ways, and I just went with it. What was an hour or two out of my retired life schedule?
We amazingly opened up to one another immediately. I was shocked to know they’d been married 35 years when they divorced, and it sounded like a marriage of strangers, of roommates…
… sort of where my own marriage had been heading just a couple of years ago.
It was incredibly sad. She is a sweet woman, and didn’t talk ill of the ex per se, just sort of factually– that they just never really had a connection and it was very clear after 9 years. “Alienation of affection followed by divorce” to quote SATC. She was looking forward to her “new life” back in the town where she had come from… she still didn’t have a firm job offer, but felt this was the way to go. It sounded right to me, although this town had been her home for over 3 decades. She seemed to be moving on with her life, however she probably had emotionally exited the marriage years before. Still, the misery she endured was palpable.
As I talked to her, I marveled to myself how you can live with a person that long, especially without the distractions/responsibilities of kids, and not be miserable with a total disconnect as they apparently had. They rattled around in that huge 3,000 sq. ft home avoiding each other for decades. What a horrible, miserable experience! And now, although I know there had to be relief for her to be past it and looking forward to new experiences, I silently prayed she’d find happiness as she closed in on her upper 50s, possibly 60. She is a nice looking, fit woman who really needs to update her look (hair style, color, clothing). What is out there for her? She seemed hopeful, and I’m sure that anything must look good compared to the loneliness she had. There is nothing quite so lonely as living with a stranger who happens to be your spouse, I know.
People step into our lives on occasion for a reason. I can’t say why exactly at this time… however it made me go home and hug my DH a little harder. To look around me and realize the blessings, the amazing gift we’ve been given to reincarnate our marriage and our love. Two years ago I also was planning exits from my flat-lined marriage, thinking about where I would go next, because I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life in a loveless, passionless marriage. It was a scary thought to start my life over again, and to disrupt the lives of my young adult kids with a separation of their parents. Thank God I didn’t have to go there. Thank God I spoke up to my husband and told him what I needed, and thank God he was willing to fight for the marriage. Thank God I took my own health and fitness into hand, lost weight, and got healthy, and feel good about myself. Sure, we have our difficulties and miscommunications and misfires. But I trust that he is here for me for the long haul and I no longer doubt his love for me. We want to enjoy our next chapter of life together.
A very sweet reader recently wrote me off-blog and gave me a great compliment: “I believe one of the reasons so many connect with you is because you are sharing all the hard stuff. While I love other [bloggers we follow...] you have spoken of the challenges in the beginning – their stories highlight what it is like after the hard stuff. You allow those of us that are struggling to understand we are not alone.”
These words meant so much to me. As a writer, I enjoy the opportunity to share my love of the written word with others; as a wife who has found Dominance/submission to be a wonderful addition to her marriage, I like to share this journey. I am not the “here’s how it should go” blogger, nor the most sexy and titillating of bloggers (our sexual escapades definitely fall under the category of “neophyte and vanilla with a twist and hopeful BDSM.”). By no means am I an expert nor do I have many answers. But each day I learn something, and I try to share it–the good, bad, the ugly—and the sexy :-) . It feels good that people may relate to what I write because they too are going through rough patches or difficulties. It’s good to know you’re not alone, and to have hope.
So, chin up ladies! If your marriage is going through a tough time, or if you have been struggling to achieve a level of D/s or BDSM in your marriage…don’t despair. It is all a journey, it’s NOT easy, and so much good can come from your own attitude changing into one of love and submission and service to your husband and the greater good of your families and marriages (even over your own desires and needs–not always easy!). For the single ladies and those who have been through hurtful breakups/divorces, I encourage you to remain true to your desires while maintaining strong self-esteem. Be the best you can be in any aspect of your life you currently have control over– your job, your friendships, your faith, your pastimes, your health and fitness, your civic service (we all need to do this). I worry in the D/s-BDSM single world that there are many men who are not worthy of a selfless woman or worse, dangerous opportunistic sadists. Better to be a strong and self-assured woman who a dominant man respects and knows won’t take crap and shit, a woman who CHOOSES to submit of her own free will to a trustworthy Dom. D/s is a dance, it doesn’t happen overnight for MOST of us. It takes a lot of realignment of current social “norms.” Give it a chance, give it time and patience!
Off my soap box now. But hug that man in your life extra hard tomorrow… tell him what you love and appreciate about him. And give yourself a hug too for your dedication!
Hang in there; I’m testimony that the best is yet to come!