Tag: relationship

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Click

This morning, Belle put me back in the plastic. She’s off again to spend a long weekend with girlfriends in San Francisco and decided I would not have access to the cock while she was gone. In fact, she’s decided I won’t get to touch it until her birthday at the end of the month when she and I spend a few nights in a quaint B&B.

I haven’t been writing much because I’m not exactly sure what I would have been writing about. The dynamic has more or less slipped away for me since even before the unexpected turn. In pondering this, I think it’s because I stopped believing that Belle really wanted to dominate me. I’m not the kind of guy who wants to be submissive so badly that I’m able to suspend disbelief and project onto her an interest in dominance that’s not there. Once I doubted her motivation, the foundation just crumbled away on my side.

We had a chat about this the other night. I wanted to know what the status was from her perspective. Were we still playing with the D/s? She surprised me by responding that, as far as she was concerned, we were. Nothing had changed. Of course, lots had changed. My entire demeanor had changed, but she was operating under the assumption that we were still doing it. True, she had denied me orgasm twice in the recent past, but I had also come about three times. I didn’t feel denied or dominated. Nor did she talk or act like she was dominating me. After giving her an orgasm one night, she told me to roll the dice to see if I got to come. Odd, I wouldn’t, even, it would be my choice. My choice. I don’t want a stinking choice. I’m happy to submit to the whim of the dice if that’s what she wants, but make it a binary outcome, not a choice (turned out to be an 11, so the crisis of decision was averted). Also, she stopped telling me to sleep naked and started saying I could if I wanted to. Funny thing is, I almost always do want to, except when she says it’s my choice. Then I don’t.

I am undeterred. Even though we’ve been though this weird patch, I’m willing to chalk it up to her being very busy at work and our generally learning how to do this from scratch. In fact, I haven’t come in a week now and am starting to feel the need. On top of that, she’s locked me up and is carrying my key around her neck. I face the prospect of not having another orgasm for nearly a month. I feel an upswing is in the air. Or maybe that’s spring. Whichever, I’m still optimistic.

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Forest, meet trees

The day after my previous post (you know, the “oh my god, the sky is falling, whatever shall I do” post), Belle and I had another chat. (And this, my friends, is where it gets funny). Turns out, she only wanted to flip off the D/s machine during that encounter. Not, as I heard, for an indefinite period. Just…you know…right then and until we were done.

Oh. Gotcha.

Seriously, we talked for a good half hour and neither of us understood that we had entirely the wrong impression of what the other was saying. I heard, “I can’t do this until I say I can again and I don’t know when that’s going to be,” and she heard, “I’m so mental about all this D/s crap that I can’t even have mutually pleasurable sex with my wife anymore.” It would be funny if it weren’t so…fucked up.

We’ve decided to try communicating while we talk just to see what that’s like.

We will now resume normal programing.

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An unexpected turn

Tuesday night, we talked about my continuing funk. Long story short, I no longer felt denied as much as I felt absence. I had come to the point where I wasn’t horny anymore. Even though we had had a few sexual encounters, we both knew my orgasm wasn’t an option, and the in-between time felt like sexual vacuum. Our not-quite-sex sessions (those in which I get hard and horny, and maybe she abuses me a little, but ultimately nothing happens) weren’t occurring since I was not allowed to touch her in that way without her permission. Those sessions are vital, I believe, in maintaining my arousal and frustration in between opportunities to pleasure her. I wasn’t coming, I wasn’t even getting really turned on, so my sex drive kind of curled up and went to sleep. That was my theory, anyway.

In order to help aleve that problem, she said I could start touching her any way I liked again. Wednesday night, I was going to touch the living fuck out of her. Groping, kissing, squeezing, licking – anything and everything she’d let me get away with before pouring the ice water of her feminine control over me and forcing me to stuff it all away. We even texted each other about it during the day. It was going to be fun. Finally, a little action just for me. And yes, even in a D/s arrangement, everyone needs a little something just for them. So the kids were all sleeping, the candles were all lit, and the iPod was making pleasant sounds when I made my move.

Then we had another talk. Turns out, she’s kinda over the whole D/s paradigm at the moment. She’s been very busy at her job working on a big project and said she feels like she’s drifting down a river and all the things she needs to do are little piranha taking bites out of her. Her “responsibilities” as the D were among those piranha. All she wanted was for things to go back to normal for a while. No having to worry about when I’m going to come or be locked up or what the Covenant says or any of that crap. Straight, vanilla relationship. At least for a bit.

She really didn’t think that little bombshell would ruin the moment. Seriously. More than anything else, I understand that least of all. God knows, these things happen. At any other moment in any other setting, we could have reasoned through it. I do understand where she’s coming from. But, at the very moment she laid this on me, I was naked, hard, wearing the big steel cock ring, and had her nipple between my fingertips. After, I was quiet, introspective, felt untethered, and was once again uninterested in sex.

I don’t think Belle understands how much our D/s has impacted me. My entire approach to sex and sexual gratification has been rewritten. To simply turn all that off and go back to the old days just isn’t something I can do on command. I could do it situationally. That is, if she integrated it into the D/s dynamic and, in effect, ordered me to behave the way she wanted. But instead, she pulled the plug. Thinking back, she may have actually pulled it over a week ago. It’s hard to say, but the funk I’ve been in could just as easily been caused by her undeclared decision to pull back from the D/s (whether or not that was even done consciously on her part). I wanted to make it my problem, but it could have been mutual. I don’t know. Not that it much matters at this point.

This morning, I masturbated to orgasm. It did not feel good, I didn’t enjoy it, and I wasn’t especially interested in having an orgasm. But I did it just the same. And now I feel terrible. Why? I’m no longer bound by the Covenant. She’s not interested in controlling my emissions. For the time being, I’m just as free as any other wanker in the world. All that’s true, but in fact, that act was my response to her decision from the previous night. It was probably rash and really not necessary, but it was the only way I could tease out a little show of control in a situation I really have no control over. So now the guy interested in being controlled by his wife is trying to find ways of fighting his lack of control? WTF?

My plan at this point is to stop talking about it. I know how to be her “normal” husband, so that’s what I’ll be. I really just want to move past this. If I’m something else in the future, that’s up to her. It could be a day, week, month or never. But I can’t make her do something she’s not interested in and, honestly, I wouldn’t want it that way even if I could.

Regarding this blog, what is the point of writing about Thumper if he’s not being denied? Good question. There seems to be a lot of this kind of talk going around lately. I guess we’ll have to see if I’m capable of forming coherent thoughts around what’s in my head or if I even feel the need to write them down if I do.

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One reason

There seems to be a lot of never-ending web chatter asking and discussing why men like to be denied, locked-up, etc. I can’t answer for all men, obviously, though I’ve been thinking recently about what makes me like it and I think it might apply to many other men. For me, it’s above and beyond simply being a common ground where many of my kinks come together.

Belle and I have been married for eleven years. For the past several, leading up to my infidelity, we had what the textbooks refer to as a “sexless marriage”. We did have sex, but on average less than once a month. After my infidelity and the exploration of our relationship that immediately followed, our sex life picked back up. In fact, it was better than it had been at any point in our entire marriage. Then, we got kinky.

As I’ve said before, I “discovered” my denial kink late one night while surfing the web for sex toys. I stumbled upon a site that sold chastity devices and was off to the races. Prior to that, I knew little and hardly thought about chastity, denial, or D/s. Certain elements of those things kept coming up in the porn I liked, but the inclination to engage in them never coalesced into reality. Because we were in a very open and communicative mode, it wasn’t hard for me to show Belle what I wanted to experiment with and she, because she’s wonderful, agreed to try it all out.

What has become obvious to me now is that by engaging in that kind of play – by transferring to her total control over the most basic expression of my sexuality – I have, in effect, bound her to our sex life. We can never drift apart again since, for me, she is the only way I can get any kind of sexual relief. She cannot disengage because I will always be there, horny and desperate. In effect, my denial is like a little bell tied to a fishing line indicating even the smallest change in status.

It’s not as though this is the primary purpose of our arrangement. I found chastity and denial and immediately had a deep and visceral reaction to the idea. Never did the cause and effect of it flash though my mind or even enter my conscious thought until much later. In short, I am not using this to achieve the end of keeping her engaged with me sexually. That’s just a happy side effect.

So, as I’ve read more stories on teh interwebs from men who are desperate to get their vanilla wives to plug in to their domination and denial fantasies, I can’t help but wonder how many of them are doing so, consciously or not, in order to “trick” their wives into being more involved with their sex lives. I can’t imagine anyone going so far as to bring enforced physical chastity into their relationship unless it tripped one of several kinky triggers for them, but who knows?

The bottom line is, moving in the direction that Belle and I have places a tremendous load on the woman in the relationship. Especially if she’s not instinctually dominant or sadistic. Yes, there are a lot of benefits for her, but they come at a cost. And the man gets what most men want more than anything else: A partner intricately and permanently involved in a prolonged sexual adventure.

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It was my fault

The issue seems to have been that I was not acting submissively enough. I can see that. In fact, I haven’t been feeling very subbie since Sunday’s ruined orgasm (which leads me to think it wasn’t as ruined as I thought). She picked up on my changed demeanor and reverted out of Belle Fille, owner of Thumper’s cock, mode and back into my wife of eleven years. This was me giving her mixed signals. I totally get that.

I asked her, next time that happens, to call me on it. Not so subtly, she should say my attitude needs adjusting and if I don’t fix it myself, she’ll take care of it for me. If, of course, I don’t want to adjust it, we can call a time out and discuss the arrangement of our power exchange, but for the past few days I just drifted out of tune somehow. I did recognize it, but didn’t connect that with how I may have been acting the other night. I was probably too aggressive, definitely did not respect her control as much as I should have. So, I’m taking full responsibility. Hopefully, she’s better prepared with how to deal with me next time I drift.

During our conversation, she reaffirmed that she does see the benefit of our arrangement. She’s not just doing this for me. I need to hear that, of course, because if it ever turns out to all be an act to make me happy, the potency of the exchange will evaporate. I need to know she appreciates the benefits of the exchange – basically, that she’s getting something out of exploiting my condition. That warm, tight, unfair feeling I get in my chest is what I get out of it. That’ll only exist if I know she’s not just playing along.

In other related news, I’ve now been locked-up longer than any other previous stint. Fourteen days. No idea when I’ll get out. She’s not dropping an hints and I’m not asking.

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The fight

In the past few months Belle and I have fought just a handful of times. I attribute that to our having strengthened our relationship overall in the wake of my infidelity last year. Better communication, more intimacy, and frankly, less resentment towards each other has kept us from tripping on the small stuff. Now, apparently, we only fight about big stuff.

I have no idea when last night’s conversation turned the corner from a discussion of how we deal with my increased sexual interest vs. her non-interest to an all out screaming slugfest that, at one point, had her telling me to sleep downstairs. And it’s still so fresh and intense that I’m not sure I’ll be able fairly relate her point of view. I do know that the entire D/s framework that we’ve built around our relationship is barely standing this morning.

The evening started out great. We were laying in bed, making fun of the news and generally being wise asses with each other. Lots of laughing. Then, the TV and lights went off, she told me to get naked as usual, and I folded myself into her. For me, approaching two weeks without a proper orgasm, that kind of contact with her in that unclothed state makes me think of pretty much one thing. When she moved my hand to her breast, I took that as a positive sign. Apparently, though, she didn’t want sex and only wanted me to hold her. Most nights, she assumes her roll as Belle Fille and shuts Thumper down. Last night, she was my wife and I was (apparently) making her feel guilty for not giving me what I wanted. This initiated the conversation. I said I didn’t need sex from her every night, but that I did need to see some engagement by her in the power exchange dynamic. She said she felt inadequate to the task, didn’t want to always be playing the game, and worried that I was unhappy. Eventually, the conversation burrowed all the way back to the infidelity and her fear that somehow her denying me (to which, of course, I’m a party) would lead me back to the frame of mind that allowed the infidelity to occur. Then, at some point, there was yelling.

Of course, the whole D/s thing was totally shattered. I felt ridiculous as the only naked person in the room, doubly so with the stupid polycarbonate attached to my dick. I very nearly got up and removed it about a half dozen times, but I never did. Somehow, it was the last vestige of what we had built up and to remove it would signal a total collapse. I didn’t want it on me, but I wanted it off even less.

I suggested to Belle that perhaps this type of dynamic was inappropriate for us to play with. If she could tie it somehow to the years of issues that led to the infidelity – a position I can’t understand as I see the attention and commitment to our D/s as proof of how far we’ve come from that time – then it was either not the right thing for us in general or it was the wrong time for us to do it. If she’s going to have a hard time dealing with my perpetually high sexual needs, to the point of us having a screaming fight, then we needed to get rid of them.

I don’t know what all this means. I don’t know where we are now. I am completely taken aback by what happened as I was pretty happy with where we were immediately prior to the fight and had no idea it was coming. Further, I have no idea how I’ll feel if we pull the plug on our D/s experiment. We’ve invested so much into it. It’s become something of a compass for me. If it were to suddenly disappear, I fear we’d be adrift. At least temporarily.

Obviously, we need to talk.

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The nipple meat follies

Infants are wonderful, glorious, magical little creatures…who suck all sexual energy out of a person and shove it down a deep, dark hole – never to be seen again. Luckily, Belle and I are past all that now. Ours are grown sufficiently to get up by themselves and more or less deal with life while mom and dad “sleep in”. Belle’s sister and her husband, though, are still about five years, ten months out from that luxury.

Last night, they brought their two-month-old baby over to us so they could attempt reentry into adult society. While we were hanging with the little peanut, they went and sat in a bar before having a lovely meal, uninterrupted by crying babies, in a dimly lit restaurant – only to spend the entire time talking about the baby. By 10:00, they had returned, packed up, and gone back to the hellish existence called “new parenthood”.

I was thrilled because 10:00 isn’t crazy late for a Saturday and Saturday is the one night I look forward to all week long. Nine times out of ten, we have sex on Saturday night. And not just any sex. It’s usually the night we use to break out of the box and try new things. However, this Saturday night was that tenth night where, because the bouncing baby sex energy black hole had tired her out, Belle was uninterested in hanky-panky.

We should have left it at that. Sucked it up and considered it a donation to the young couple with the screaming ball of joy. But, either due to her lingering desire to please me or my pathetic, deprived posture – or some combination of the two – we did not leave it at that. Belle, bless her heart, decided to experiment some more.

Let me say right off, I am a big fan of Belle’s experimentation. I do not fault her at all for what went down. Just so we’re clear about that. You win some, you lose some. Last night was a loser.

She wanted to know if I could sleep with clothespins on my nipples (and not the wimpy wooden ones we have, but the firmer plastic kind with rubber ends for better gripping). I told her I wasn’t sure if I could, though I immediately felt trepidation. Even if I could fall asleep pinned, should I? Could I be damaged by leaving clothespins on my nipples all night? Also, was I supposed to try to keep them on all night? What if they came off? Should I put them back on? What were the rules here? I didn’t ask any of these questions, of course, because I was in my subbie painslut headspace. I dutifully got the clothespins and gave them to Belle.

Her intention was to put them on me, then go to sleep. She was tired and didn’t want to do anything but also didn’t want me to go empty handed. Very sweet, but more warning bells. Pain is not a passive plaything. Bondage can be (hell, I’ve been in bondage for over a week 24/7 if you count the CB6K), but pain requires attention. I endure it – the really strong stuff – because of her feedback. She inflicts it and I absorb it because she inflicted it and, presumably, wants me to absorb more. The idea that she’d set me up then roll over and go to sleep just felt wrong. And I should have said that. But I didn’t.

So, on went the plastic clamps. She’s figured out that by not grabbing a big hunk of nipple meat she can make it hurt more. She pinches just enough to hold on and that creates a more intense pain. I reacted immediately. It felt really good and I got pretty hard. She was touching me, asking me how it felt. It was all great. But then she started to drift off. She knew I wasn’t in the right place and asked what my score was, but I answered with the pat, “I want to do what you want me to do,” line. She wanted me to sleep with clamped nipples. OK, I’ll do that. But I knew it was not going to be good.

I actually did skate pretty close to sleep a few times, but the clamps kept my brain anchored to wakefulness. Belle, eventually, started breathing deeply and regularly. Then I felt neglected. The pain turned that corner from warm and pleasant to harsh and mean. It wasn’t feeling good any more. Since she was out for the next eight or nine hours, I was in limbo. What was I supposed to do? I wasn’t going to fall asleep. Should I lay there for hours awake and hating it? Should I wake her up and ask her what to do? Should I just take the friggin’ things off, roll over, and go to sleep? No option seemed good.

It says something about the state I can get in that I felt paralyzed by the options before me. I did nothing for a long time because none of them seemed like the right way to go. I didn’t want to disappoint her, I didn’t want to disobey her, I didn’t want to bother her. Of course, I removed them. I rolled over onto my stomach and felt bad. Belle, asleep, instinctively moved her hand to touch my side when she felt my movement, but she didn’t wake up. I could have cried. I felt like shit.

The important and good thing from this experience is that I was able to talk to her about it this morning. We both know now why that didn’t work. We know where not to go in the future. As long as we’re always moving forward and learning new things, I’m perfectly fine with the occasional potholes.

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The third dimension of denial

My brain is fucking with me. It keeps firing off the little signals that, in the past, would precipitate a masturbation session. “Hey, wouldn’t it feel nice to jerk off? Let’s go have an orgasm!” And I, being a dense male, say, “Sure, sounds great!” followed half a second later with, “D’OH!” Ever show a dog a ball and make like you’re tossing it but really don’t? Know how the dog runs after the ball anyway? That’s me whenever my brains tells me to beat off.

I was getting kind of down this week. The last time I was able to touch Belle was on Saturday. Sunday she wasn’t interested (and we stayed up late watching the Oscars), Monday she was tired from staying up late on Sunday, Tuesday she was at a work thing, got home late and was just not in the mood, and Wednesday I was out late at a work thing. Four solid days where I never even touched my wife in a sexual way, let alone got to lick her nipples or nuzzle into her pussy. I asked her Wednesday before I left for my thing if she liked not letting me grope or otherwise come on to her. Because, of course, as a servile husband, if she likes what I don’t, it works, but if she doesn’t like what I don’t like, it’s poison.

Turns out, yeah, she does like controlling when I touch her. In fact, the conversation led her to ask me just how badly I wanted to touch her. Was I feeling deprived? I said yes, I was, and then let tumble out how much I wanted to put my hands on her and exactly what I wanted to do with my hands…along with other parts of my body. She gently reprimanded me and said that’s not what she asked. I revised and simplified my answer. Yes, I felt deprived. That’s good, she said, because that was how it needed to be. And that made it all OK.

Finally, last night, the stars aligned. We were in bed, she was in the mood, and the atmosphere (candles, iPod, etc.) was all set. But, she still wouldn’t let me touch her. I had to lay there for 15 minutes just talking. When she decided it was time, I felt like a trained Doberman being told to attack. She likes it gentle, though, and I did my best to restrain myself. Nothing for me, of course. She barely touched me. Her orgasm, though, was remarkable.

I was taken aback at how it felt to finally touch her breasts, to have my hand between her legs, her nipple in my mouth. The wave of relief that went through me was palpable. So you can add this extra dimension of denial to my collection. No orgasms, no stimulation of the cock, no sexual contact at all with my wife’s body. She controls all those things now. All I have left is what happens in my imagination. And that, absent any path to physical sensation or relief, increases the density of her control over me and sends my frustration into the clouds. I’m very happy to be wearing the CB6K as not having it would severely test my will.

Speaking of the device, I had to take the KSD-G3 off the other day. I use the one wil the shallowest rib more to keep the cock positioned well than for security, but the other morning I woke up with the acute sensation of it biting into the top of the shaft. Sure enough, there was an angry red line where it had made contact with the skin. This is not unusual, but the intensity of the bite that morning was atypical. No idea why.

The past few days have had me in grown-up clothes (dress pants) which have necessitated me wearing my most stealthy underwear. I have several pairs of tight, low-cut briefs that push the plastic down between my legs and back into my pelvis. This is very effective at hiding the package, but when combined with lots of sitting (four hour meeting yesterday, for example), it can leave me feeling pretty raw and sore. The ring, only on the right side for some reason, cuts into my flesh and that problematic spot behind the right post gets red and irritated. Luckily, today, I’m in some very forgiving boxer-briefs and am wearing my most baggy, chastity-friendly pants. Everything gets to swing a little more freely.

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Random tidbits

Just a couple of unrelated things…

First, I’ve been locked up again since last Thursday and have found it to be significantly more comfortable than previous stints. I’ve moved back to the 1.875″ ring (second largest) but down to the smallest spacer. Typically, I get some irritation from the backside of the right-hand post rubbing against the spot where my scrotum bunches up, but not this time. I figured the smaller spacer would make this worse, but in fact it’s entirely disappeared. For me, it’s usually taken a week or so in the device for things to settle down and feel good, but I seem to have skipped that part this time. Maybe it’s because I was just in for two weeks with only a week off in between? Dunno, but I’m not complaining.

Second, I received in the mail yesterday a 6g segment ring (like this one). I was hoping to be able to sneak it into my 8ga PA hole, but no dice. (In case you’re wondering, she let me out for a few minutes to try it out.) It’s really beautiful. Heavy, chunky. When I finally get it in, it’s going to be pretty hot.

I had to use needle-nose pliers to pop it open (wrapped in tissue so as not to scratch it), and getting it closed again was pretty hard. If the PA security cable didn’t bother me so much, this ring would provide absolute security for me. Oh well. Now I’m looking at stretching tapers and opening/closing tools.

Finally, Belle has started to expand her authority. Now, she calls what used to be our bed her bed. She’s allowing me to sleep with her in her bed, but I must sleep naked. Yes, I find this incredibly hot. She was dead tired last night, so we had a chance to talk a lot about that and other things. I told her that for the bed thing to work (and it’s surprising how quickly I felt I was in her bed once she started calling it that), I need to feel that I can’t take sleeping in it for granted. Some nights, she’s going to have to make me sleep elsewhere, either because of some displeasure I give her or just because. This might be tricky with two kids in the house, but we’re thinking about it. I didn’t say this to her, but I think it’d also be hot if  I wasn’t allowed in without her permission and only after demonstrating my subservience in some way. I should bring that up. In any event, I dig it and love that it was all her idea.

I feel as though the D/s aspect of our relationship is really starting to take root. Having the Covenant signed is a huge psychological hurdle, but I’m feeling more and more comfortable showing that part of me to Belle and she’s gaining confidence as she starts to get a feel for her role. I’ve never been happier. Now, if I can only remain patient and let it unfold at its own pace.

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The light bulb moment

I was perusing some old posts over on Aarkeybabble and he said something that flipped a little switch in my head. Here’s his totally out of context quote:

I’ve been trying to deny myself a little more – reading some other guys who say things about themselves like “my need for submission” – which is vastly different from my selfish “need to be dominated” mindset.

That’s it. That’s what I’ve been feeling lately. Previously, I wanted Belle to dominate me, but now I feel the need for submission. These are entirely different things. Yes, I sound like a reject from The Perfectly Obvious Dinner Theater, but give me a break. I’ll still a n00b at this stuff.

It’s only recently that I feel like I’ve stopped spending so much time fretting about what she was going to do to me and have spent a lot more time doing things for her and accepting whatever came my way. There have been moments recently, sometimes in bed but not always, where these waves of submissive warmth have washed over me and the feeling is so much not the angst of before. Yes, it’s true. The bulb has finally lit.

Wanting to be dominated is not the same as wanting to be submissive!

Stop rolling your eyes at me.

So then, because I’m me, I’ve been spending a lot of the day thinking: What does being submissive mean to me? What do I get out of it? Why do I like it? I really can’t answer these questions yet.

At this point in my evolution, it’s hard to be too lucid on what being submissive is to me. It’s really a series of questions, more than anything else. What can I do for her? Is she happy? Does she need anything? I want to serve her in a bunch of little ways and to reduce her stress level as much as possible. Yeah, sure, I should have wanted those before the whole D/s thing showed up, and I did. But it’s different now and I think that’s because one very specific thing has changed. Now, she owns my cock. It’s remarkable how that little tiny detail can focus one’s mind.

My submissive feelings toward her are not just about sex, but they’re wound up pretty tightly with it. I’m not being nice just because I want to get into her pants (though I do, and badly). I know that if she only let me rub her feet, massage her shoulders, and wash her hair for the rest of the month with no sexual activity at all, as long as she was happy, I’d be fine. Yes, I’d be a quivering mass of repressed sexual energy, but I think I’m learning to pour that energy back into other parts of our relationship. And besides, I like the feeling I get when I’m subjugating my needs, sexual or otherwise, to hers. Believe me, nobody’s more surprised to hear me say that than I am.

And it’s not about being weak. I’m an not weak. It’s not about letting her think for me. She doesn’t. It’s not even really about control, except for her absolute control over my sex. She doesn’t much tell me what to do or boss me around (yet). I don’t think she’d want it to be about those things. Who the hell wants to be with a weak, mentally dependent puppet? And who wants to be that puppet? That’s not what either of us signed up for nor are we capable of living that way.

I don’t know. I sound like I’m rambling. Suffice it to say, I feel as though I’m seeing the game board from an entirely different angle. All the peices are the same and they move the same, but everything’s shifted 90 degrees. Another Great Big Obvious Thing™ just dawned on me and opened up a new box of stuff to sort through.