So, after three weeks I ended the hiatus in communication with Monster- and ten days later our Thing, whatever it was, was done. I’ve been a bit thrown by my reaction to the whole affair, which has been much more emotional than I’d anticipated. I was very weepy, and beat myself up for being weepy. Because being weepy made it feel like a breakup, and how could it be a breakup when it wasn’t that kind of relationship? He was not my boyfriend. I did not want him to be my boyfriend. He was supposed to be a phone sex fuckbuddy, nothing more. So what in fact is going on? I asked myself repeatedly, with a lump in my throat.
One of the problems that became apparent in our final conversation was that there was an imbalance in our relationship. One of the things I never wrote about (because I’ve never had the vocabulary to) is that we had been exploring CNC (Consensual Non- consent): role-playing scenarios, talking about how CNC might work when we met face to face. And for me, CNC has always been a very grey area. It was a hard limit for a long time because of my history of sexual trauma even as I found myself more intrigued and attracted to it as time passed. That limit softened very quickly with M; too quickly, I think. We negotiated stuff but didn’t spend enough time talking about it- there were some really messy communications about the subject and a few much easier but maybe not very deep discussions took place before we rapidly embarked on role play that eroticised some really dark stuff.
And I have to hold my hands up and acknowledge my part in my own distress here. I have to acknowledge a pattern that I seriously need to work on if I am going to carry on pursuing kink play and relationships: I often want to play too hard too fast. I’m greedy for new experiences and sensations, and I also have a tendency to attract and be attracted to partners who will pick up on that and run with it. M had a lot of experience of this kind of play, but my feeling is that he lacked an understanding of something really vital: that, as quickly as I moved towards exploring this stuff with him, underneath the surface a huge amount of trust and a sense of real safety needed to be in place for me to go there. I trusted him to understand that, as a survivor, it was meaningful for me to be in a place where I could enjoy that kind of play. It was not therapeutic, but it was a mark of how healed I am from that trauma that I could reenact scenes of non- consensual sex, feel safe while doing it, and feel very, very turned on.
I assumed and trusted he would understand that. I should not have assumed and my trust was misplaced. From that sense of safety came, for me, a real sense of intimacy, and I now see that there was an imbalance there- that sense of intimacy wasn’t shared. It felt like it was to me, but I was wrong about that. In the New Year it started to feel like M’s attention was beginning to wander as we got to know each other better, and a kind of settling started to happen. We spoke less, and after the very recent peaks of intensity I found that hard. In retrospect I felt really rejected, particularly as we’d gone so deep so quickly. I started feeling needy and insecure: he responded by feeling badgered when I asked for more regular contact. I made a lot of effort not to sound like a jealous girlfriend, but I was incapable of being Cool Girl Fuckbuddy even as doing so felt increasingly important. Things began to dissolve very quickly, and I suppose that’s the root of my distress.
Since I’ve been blogging one of the things I’ve found difficult about writing about situations when they come to an end is a desire to communicate things via the blog (and Twitter) to people I’m no longer in contact with, to say things I would have liked to say in person. It’s not a great impulse- it’s passive aggressive and boundary- pushing and I’m trying really hard not to give into it as I have in the past. I only want to say things about him that I have said to him in person, without adding any final thoughts or gotchas as Easter eggs in my blog posts. M read my blog throughout our time playing together, but I want to work on the basis that he won’t be doing so from now on. I actually really think he won’t- I think it’s deeply unlikely he’ll feel the need to check up on me. Maybe he will: maybe I don’t really know him at all. I suspect he is angry with me for not having been able to say what was going on for me, just as I was angry at him for knowing that he had a pattern of reducing contact after a certain point but not articulating that it doesn’t denote a lack of interest in his partner but a transition to, I guess, a different level of comfort. But, as I say, it feels like good boundaries not to say stuff here that I’ve not said-
– I was about to say ‘to his face’. I’ve never said anything to his face. We’ve never met. We never will. We would have done- fucking Corona- but now won’t. It’s been embarrassing, feeling this level of sadness about someone with whom I’ve never been in the same room, but I did spend 7 months assuming we would be one day. I know that a lot of the emotional impact of this is to do with the fact that it happened over lockdown: at one point, at its height, both of us were talking to each other more than we talked to anyone else in our lives, friends or family or work- related, another reason why it felt (to me) so intimate. It happened over 7 months, 7 of the weirdest months of any of our lives. He was the first person to tell me the election had been called for Biden and the first person I spoke to on January 6th. He regularly made me laugh on days where literally nothing else would have done so, laugh really hard. He made me cum really hard. So hard.
I dunno. It is silly. It was a phone- based kink thing that I allowed to get bigger than its right size. I will feel sad for a few days, stash away the boots and the undies and the collars (not the buttplugs), delete some photos and screenshots, and it will pass. I have learnt a lot, some of it really hard and requiring a lot of reflection about how I do kink, whether I can do the kind of stuff I’m into outside of a romantic context, who I decide to do kink with, how I can do it in a way that is as safe as possible for me and my partner.
It’s not silly: it was a relationship, it was just a really weird one. I don’t know what it was was. It meant something. He was a part of my life, even if I can’t quite work out what part. It was a thing.