Doing Things or not Doing Things, it is a Choice!

book opened to a page with a list of choices in a column

Doing things or not doing things it is a choice. Every day we have a choice to make on all levels.  Trying to keep within the legal limits, of course, we are faced with decisions and choices every day.  How we handle those decisions and how we approach the choices we make is essential.  We can all look back and wonder, “What the hell was I thinking?” but we can also look back and say, “Damn, I nailed that one!”.  How we view our choices is also a choice.

I was going through my phone, clearing some pictures off of it.  I take pictures of memes, and different things as writing prompts and realized I hadn’t cleaned that folder up in ages.  I came across 13 pictures in a row.  From the thumbnail, I couldn’t read the words, but I knew instantly what these pictures were.  I had a decision to make.  I could delete them and avoid the pain.  Also, I could keep them and read them later and postpone the suffering.  Or, I could open them, and read them, and remind myself of why I took these pictures in the first place.  I chose the last choice.

When I was in my D/s relationship, I was eager to learn as much as I could, partly for curiosity but also for safety reasons.  I knew this journey had some risk to it.  Even though I felt safe with my partner, I still wanted to know what I was facing.  I was online a lot.  I listened to podcasts, and I read books.  With all the research, everything still seemed so new and unknown.

My partner had books on being submissive.  I knew he had them, but he rarely offered them to me.  I thought it was strange that we didn’t talk about it, do research together, but I was also very willing to learn just from him.  My education would be solely from him, and in that way, I would be a perfect submissive for him.  (I know, I said it was the beginning of my education, don’t judge).

One weekend, he was away with one of his others, and I was watching his house and taking care of his dog.  I got nosey.  Ok, that’s a lie.  I didn’t just get nosey, I had planned to snoop through his stuff.  I wanted to see all the toys and things he had.  I wanted to experience seeing them for the first time alone so that when he presented them to me, I wouldn’t be taken off guard.  I would research the things he had because then I would better understand his interests and what he wanted to do to and with me.  Or, I was just nosey and a snoop!  I am taking the choice to be honest now as I took the choice to be nosey then.  I may not be proud of my snooping, but I do not regret the decision.

He had a lot of stuff, but I was intrigued that they were a lot of the same things, just different variations of colors or styles.  He had a definite kink style.  We mostly practiced impact play, and I loved that.  Some of the things were still in their original packages unopened.  I wondered if he was saving them for something or someone specific.  He had others, and I knew that.  I just hoped at that moment that some of these things were meant for me.

Then I saw the books.  I knew how the rest of my weekend would be spent.  I thumbed through them and read things here and there.  They were all exciting but they also all pretty much said the same things.  Then, I came to the middle of one of the books.  It was a list of all the different kinds of kinks.  I was fascinated.  Some of the things I knew and some I had never heard of before.  Some seemed strange to me.  That wasn’t a judgment. It was just new and odd to me.

I hung on that list for hours, reading all the different possibilities.  Some of the things on the list were absolute “NO” at first sight.  Some that were definite maybes and some I couldn’t wait to experience.  I looked online to see if I could order the book for myself to have at home.  I had, after all, gone into the toy box without permission, so I couldn’t exactly take the book home or admit that I had seen it.  So, I grabbed the phone and clicked a picture of each page with the plan to do my research from home.  I placed everything back as I thought I had found it.  Grateful that his memory sucks, and he wouldn’t notice if anything was out of place.  It was just a box of toys and books to him.  To me, it was a treasure chest of new experiences waiting for me.

That was the summer of 2017.  It was July, and he was at the beach with his primary that weekend.  I had cleaned his house, taken care of his pup, and locked up and went home on Sunday evening.  I didn’t get right on the research, but I do remember looking at the list and making my own list of things I would want to start researching first.

As it would happen, he and I wouldn’t spend time together after that weekend.  We talked and saw each other at work.  It was all amicable.  When I asked for the time he said he was busy.  He promised to make time for me soon. That wouldn’t happen.  I later found out that his long lost love was moving in with him.  The problem was that no one knew this.  Not me and not his primary.  I could be nice and say he was dealing with a lot and the stress must have been awful.  Fuck that.  He was a dick.  He knew that he could have told me anything.  I had already kept the secrets he told me, and I knew where a lot of his skeletons were buried, but he chose to shut down and lie to all of us.  Even the long lost love coming to town had no idea he had a house with his primary as well as his own house an that I was even in the picture.  Hiding me and my existence was his most skilled objective.  I never saw him intimately or outside of work after that, and he cut me off completely in a text message in August.

Everything came to a halt.  My friend, my lover, my Dom, all gone in a text.  He told me to move on, and I did, reluctantly, sadly, and slower than I would ever let him know.  I went silent.  I wrote about it, but it was terrible, sad, and depressing writings.  All my blog posts were disturbing.  I decided to keep writing.  It was a hard one.  Looking back now, I think it was the right decision.  It was good to get it out of me and put it somewhere.  Reading it currently is something I can not do yet.  Maybe someday, but for now, it can all stay in the archives of my blog. Perhaps it will also help someone else going through something similar.  It could also depress someone, and I get that too.  Those are also decisions that others can make when they read them if they decide to read them.

Doing things or not doing things is a choice. When I found these pages on my phone, I decided to upload them to my media library on my blog and leave them there, but I decided to delete them from my phone.  It has been a hard, almost three years since he left me and canceled me in a text.  (Yep, I’m going to keep reminding myself that all this ended in a text like we were in high school, and he was too much of a coward to have the conversation face to face.  Judge if you want to).

Part of the problem with this list of 13 photographs is that I miss my kinks.  I miss it all.  Sometimes I even allow myself to wonder if I still miss him, or if I miss my kinks.  It is a difficult challenge to find like-minded people and trust them with this part of me.  I trusted him, and he betrayed me in a way that I never thought was possible.  Trusting someone else, giving myself that entirely to someone else feels impossible right now.  Which makes having my kinks back seems unlikely too.  Some would say it is a choice.  This is true.  It is also a decision that weighs heavily on me every day.

I will keep the list and all 13 pictures, and someday I will delve back into the research and exploration of the things on this list.  My found kinks, my lost kinks, my favorite kinks will find their place someday.  Whether they come back to me or I let them go forever will be a decision I will make.   Someday.

 

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