So I started this blog with the intention of working out a few writing demons. Hoping to get the taste back for sitting down at a keyboard and creating. Clearly, that didn't pan out, and for the longest time (ie. 2010) I wondered why.
Well now I know.
It was because of my girlfriend.
Like too many of my past relationships, we were gung-ho out of the blocks. And by that I mean: intense. There's absolutely no other word for it. Two commitment phobics throwing caution to the wind and going at it like there was no-one else in the world. She had issues; I had issues. We had issues.
It's just that hers were bigger than mine.
I doubt there's many people out there who can't relate to falling passionately head over heels in love, and sharing something so intense it cannot possibly be sustained. Fewer people, however, would have that experience and believe they've found their sexual soulmate.
She loved rough play before we met, so it wasn't a difficult process for me to add bondage to proceedings. She loved being complimented and dressing up on special occasions, so it was easy for me to buy her the type of clothes and underwear I wanted to see her bound and gagged in. Within a few months of meeting, she was the one going to fetish stores and coming back with what she wanted to wear or play with. Our first Christmas together, we exchanged normal gifts in front of family and friends, and then fetish-oriented gifts behind closed doors.
Her own kinks came to the fore. She wanted to be in charge some of the time. And when she was, she was anything but gentle. This was something completely different for me, but with her, I enjoyed it.
I thought I'd found my sexual and relationship Nirvana.
But then, the inevitable happened: The intensity started to fade. It happened gradually enough that I didn't realise what was occurring until the relationship was almost beyond repair. So I rallied ... and saved us. I know that sounds like a big statement, but for the first time in my life, I didn't walk away the moment my partner began to falter. Instead, I argued for us. I showed her that neither of us had done anything to try and fix what had gone wrong. One night she even said she didn't love me anymore. But I stayed. And she broke down, and told me it wasn't true - she did love me - she just didn't know how to be when she got too close to someone, and I accepted it all because I knew I could be the stronger one. I knew I could get through her exceedingly well-established defences. I convinced myself we could get back to what we had. If only I stayed strong ...
I was wrong.
Well, partly wrong. In terms of companionship, the following six months were very close to our first six months together. We spent more time together than ever before and (I'm fairly sure I can speak for her here) we both genuinely enjoyed that. But the passion wasn't there. The kink factor was almost absent. Sure, she almost always had a good excuse, but as enough time passed, my patience began to wear thin. Our relationship had gradually become all about her. But I stayed on. I was determined.
I was wrong.
We played perhaps three times in our final six months together. I took photos of a couple of those sessions and one of them graces this post. She dressed up and I tied her up, and for those few hours, hope shone brightly through my life.
I was wrong about that too.
A few weeks ago, she came to me and said she didn't think she was happy enough being with me. She said she didn't know if she could do a proper relationship - whether she was even capable of it. She admitted to having feelings for someone else, but claimed not to have acted upon them. (If she did it could only have been in the days immediately preceding our split because we otherwise spent almost every night together. For those final few days, I was overseas on holiday, and this apparently gave her too much time to think.) She also said she needed to hurt me, to keep me at arm's length. She offered up a small glimmer of hope by querying whether she was doing the right thing, but this time I didn't take it.
I was over carrying the relationship. I'd done everything I could and everything she'd asked (a fact she even confirmed at that time). I was totally and utterly emotionally spent.
So it ended. We caught up one time after the split - to exchange items and keys - and she was extremely upset. She didn't want to let go, repeated her concern that she was making a mistake, and drenched my T-shirt with her tears. I cried with her, but beyond that the most I could do was tell her to "Call me if you ever sort your shit out." That might sound harsh, but when you've given your everything to a relationship and been rejected because of someone else's issues stemming from a distant past, you're not likely to be thinking straight. Hah! I know I'm still not. Sure, we maintain irregular contact by text, but I can feel even that fading away. As it probably should...
So now I come to the point of this post (if we overlook the fact that it's also meant to be cathartic for me; to purge some of what I've been carrying these past few weeks). Is it harder for people in a kink-infused relationship to split? Does it add an extra layer to your grief wondering if you'll ever again share something so amazing and so deeply personal with any other person?
I think the answer is yes, and I suspect you might be hearing more about this in the coming weeks. I'll do my level best to actually get back to talking bondage in between those posts, however, so stay tuned for more of the good stuff ...
And now I'm seeing footage of the Japanese tsunami, and thinking how truly petty the above is. Pain, however, is not relative; it's personal.
No comments:
Post a Comment