Freaky Friday: Wired Dat Way

I sit at the computer before 6 a.m. I am not fully awake yet but the cup of strong, sweet black coffee next to me will soon straighten that out. PanKwake has had me up and down since 2:30 this morning. Cookie Monster had to gently force me out of bed and off to my work.

The house is quiet (well mostly…she is gaming after all so the occasional outburst is to be expected). I am happier and more content than I ever imagined possible…and that is all because of Cookie. Today I want to share with you the story of the night I knew I loved this man.

I won’t bore you with the whole love story…because honestly if I actually wrote ours no publisher would touch it. They would claim it was too phantasmagorical. And they would be right. This man is more perfect than hero I have ever written. The sweet, gentleness of Bjorn. The steady, reliability of Rex Ranger. Scary smart. And as sadistic as Mikael…

That one plays a big part in this story. It is after all FREAKY Friday.

You see I have known for some time that I was both deeply submissive…and a masochist. I learned the hard way that I cannot ‘play’. That ‘scenes’ do very little for me. BDSM is more a religion, self-medication and at the very least 24/7 lifestyle for me.

Yet until the past seven weeks I never had the opportunity to live that type of fulfilled life. Now? All I can say is that it is so much more than even I imagined. Cooking in the kitchen and Cookie will come up behind me to cwtch (that is Welsh for hug/cuddle). But it often ends in a few spanks…and I sigh with contentment. And if things get bad (as they always will in the household of an autistic child)…out comes the paddle and floggers.

His Domination too is so different than what I would have said I wanted…but it is exactly what I need. It is not the constant, heavy-handed control that I once craved. Instead it is the gentle reminder, ‘how is the writing coming?’ That makes me want to do better, be more, and grow. And I am.

One of my taglines as a writer is…Writer, Madonna and More. It is a play upon the psychology term…Madonna/Whore complex. Something that has plagued all of my relationships.

Like everything else about me, my sexuality does not fit into a neat little box that is acceptable to society. I have always been the type that could ‘switch gears’ mentally very fast. I can be giving a porn-star quality blow job (whore) when the baby cries. I can nurse the baby (Madonna) and go right back to the blow job. It is a womanhood more in keeping with long lost pagan beliefs of goddesses that were all things…maid, whore and crone.

The problem has always been finding a man that can switch gears just as quickly.  I have had men that desired my whore but the moment they caught the briefest glimpse of the Madonna that was it. And I have had men who adored that nurturing side of me….and put her on a pedestal that read…look but do not touch. As you can imagine…that does not work for me.

I have always dreamt of a man that could accept and love both of me…Madonna and whore (oh and my brain too). This is the story of the night that realized my search was over…

Cookie and I had only met a couple of weeks before but already we were spending vast quantities of time together (He jokes we went from emails to coffee to living together). My London apartment is tiny and PanKwake has taken over half of it so the only space for us is the kitchen or my Purple Palace (bedroom). So that night we were just laying in bed (clothed).

PanKwake was playing in her Pink Palace across the hall. Of course, with her up paddles and floggers were NOT happening. But Cookie found one of my rubber bands (the absolute best tool of a sadist). He started popping it on my thigh. And my masochist found her peace in the pain.

Then PanKwake calls out that she wants to show us something. Cookie stops and hides the rubbed band. In she walks…with THIS. She was dressing her GI Joe dolls up in Barbie’s finest prom clothes. And she needed our attention/opinion. Especially His. He laughed, answered all her silly questions about what he liked best and why, and then once she left the room out came that rubber band again. He had switched gears just as quickly as I did.

That would be impressive enough but anyone who knows anything about autism knows about the repetitive nature of it. That same pattern continued for half an hour or more. And never once did this man complain or moan about her interruptions…nor did they dampen what was happening when she was out of that room. In the end, I had a geometric design on my thigh…that lasted almost ten days.

At some point in all of that, I remember having one of those Ah-Ha moments that I write about with my heroines. Tears came to my eyes and I believe that my mouth dropped open. I clearly thought…I love this man.

He actually caught on and asked…what? But I shrugged it off at the moment. It was too soon, right? You don’t dare tell someone that you love them less than two weeks into a relationship? But I am lucky…Cookie Monster plays by the rules about as much as I do.

After she finally gave us peace…and in the relative safety of the dark and especially his strong arms, I confessed…I think I may be falling for you. Nice and safe, right?

His response was perfect Dom…‘You only think?’ He had me there so I confessed…and was relieved to hear that the feeling was mutual. So much so that this was His next piece of handy work when the rubber bands came out.

But the point of all this is not just to toot my own horn…or His (I do that often enough).

The point is that for some people…our brains are just different. Our pain and pleasure centers are cross-wired if you will. For someone like me, pain feels as good as a Happy O. It gives me the same (if not more powerful) release. And that is fine. Remember…

Nothing done in love can ever be wrong!

People don’t have to be like me. They do not even have to ‘understand.’ But whether it is pain, homosexuality or polyamory…even race, religion and special needs…this world desperately needs one thing…

TOLERANCE!!!