Loin girded and getting ready to walk a tight rope.
In a typhoon and the tight rope I am walking in the typhoon is stretched over a wide deep pit filled with alligators that have a long reach, so if I appear distracted it is because I am! I realized to answer the questions for which I need to gird my loin, it was going to take a blog post. It isn’t the tight rope walk or the typhoon that is preventing a steady and speedy progress of the post; it is the alligators in the pit below. I did have a thought materialize as I was working on some actual work-work trying to keep the alligators in the pit and off my back side. Even as I kick at and stomp alligators, part of my brain is humming along with the questions I need to answer. The thought that occurred to me was one that Serendipity would say needs to stand alone, so here it is.
The definition of 24-7 D/s for me turned out to be:
Two-out-of-every-four hours I am sulking because it isn’t what I thought it was going to be, doing so guardedly through a self-induced constant challenge to not be a pest for her when I do sulk about not getting it my way. The two-out-of-the-four -hours I am not doing this, I am fantasizing of ways I hope she will make it what I wanted it to be and every seven minutes I am checking my phone, my email or looking at her for some indication she is going to “do it my way this time.” I tend to vacillate from pouting to fantasizing; a few minutes sulking, the next few minutes fantasizing then back to the pout and then going through the process of checking to see if by some chance the world started spinning the other way and I am going to get exactly what I expected. I don’t spend as much time sulking as I do fantasizing or checking to see if she has changed her mind about how she will be my Domme, but then in a 24 hour cycle it all seems to be a race to see which mood and action will be the one she has to deal with as she deals with me as her more-kinky-then-she-is partner.
Pardon me as I return my attention to the alligators in the pit, one just knocked on my office door.
The Suburban Domme 
You nut job! 😛
The “sulking part” you are doing better with it then you realize….because I hardly EVER notice you do it now days…in fact…I didn’t think you did…so am I missing something or are you just THAT good at doing it without being a pest?
I do notice you still get a little melancholy over the fact that it didn’t turn out the way you wanted/expected…but that doesn’t really get to me. That’s just being human. We all get a case of “gee I wish it would have gone this way” blues once in a while.
We all have our own pity pots to party on…hell today mine is wishing I hadn’t ate that last cinnamon roll that I was gonna stick in your lunch. That’s an extra hour on the tread mill damnit!!
ANYWAYS……
You’re not intolerable or grumpy in this “mood”……..just sorta quiet, mellow and pensive……pat yourself on the back…cuz that’s a HUGE change from what it used to be babydoll. *smooches & hugs*
You may not be a “sub guy—but more a guy who has to work at being sub” but you are exactly what I need in a man. Seriously…….I’d drive a lesser man to insanity! A guy who was an inborn sub as opposed to your inborn domination fetish urges….. probably wouldn’t survive my “kinda-sorta- kink way” crazy.
Good gawd almighty…
I’d leave broken subs all over the place…and would pity the women who tried to clean up behind me. What a mess they would have on their hands…so I guess it’s a good thing Karma saw fit to have us crash into each other instead of us T-boning others????
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Aaaaannnd… This is the way my ADD brain works:
James Bond, Sean Connery style, Dr No.
When Quarrel says, “Ain’t no use you tryin’ git away. Pussfeller wrastles alligators.”
‘Kayso… Alligator purse, anyone? 😉
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