My Vicky Life

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What’s one more failure this year?

One of my previous posts on this topic was titled, “I Give Up,” but you didn’t think I’d really give up that easily, did you? Of course I’m referring to my friend with the taste for all things sexually sadistic (so consider this the NSFW alert before you keep reading).

In my continuing struggle to understand his lifestyle, and to cope with the cruel joke that prevents us from having a mutually satisfying physical relationship with each other, I decided to try a new approach. I thought I could just agree to disagree with him (at least in my own mind) about the things he posts on his BDSM blog. For a while it worked. We texted, we talked on the phone, I baked him a cake for his birthday, we managed to maintain a tentative friendship. Although I’d said I wouldn’t, I kept looking at his blog. It’s such a big part of his life I didn’t see how I could shut it out entirely, and you can’t un-ring a bell. Eventually, with the help of some candid correspondence from a knowledgeable third party, I got pretty close to understanding (though not sharing) the desire for pain, and maybe also the desire to inflict it, even within the context of a caring relationship. But I still couldn’t figure out the mind-game part of it - the discipline, the rewards, the punishment, and especially the degradation. So it’s not surprising that, of all the grotesque images I’ve seen on his blog - women suspended in horrific contraptions, tied up in hideous positions, being flogged, gagged, beaten, prodded with electrical devices, and subjected to all manner of torture and violence - the one picture that finally got to me, the one that reached me on a gut level so deep that I began weeping uncontrollably before my brain could even fully process it, was a simple gif of two women drinking out of dog bowls. So evidently I would rather see a woman being physically abused (if that is, as he claims, what she wants), than see a woman lapping up water out of a dog bowl whether she wants to or not. But that’s just me.

So, if I’m not making any progress in understanding him, then at least, for the first time, it looks like I might be making some progress in giving up. The last time I resolved to do so, not only did I fail miserably, but we actually ended up having sex. So you can’t say I didn’t really try to understand him. I withstood the pain (which I’m sure he significantly tempered based on his awareness of my apprehension, and I’m thankful for that), but it was the other stuff - the “training,” the withholding of kisses until I exhibited the correct behavior, etc., that I found most difficult to deal with, benevolent though it was. When I told him I didn’t quite get the role-playing thing, he tried to explain that there isn’t any. I argued, “Of course there is. I’m supposed to be the good little girl.” To which he replied, “But you are a good little girl.”

Yeah, I wasn’t so sure about that one. Nevertheless, and worst of all, the mind-game worked. Just when I thought my brain would crack, he did reward me with something more in line with my vanilla tendencies, and I loved it. Okay, TMI - so suffice to say I was still confused, but feeling a whole lot better. But then, today, dog bowls, and for the first time, I don’t know how or if l will respond if I hear from him again. Well, knowing me, I’ll probably respond, but I don’t know that I’ll be jumping for joy like I have in the past. I’m angry. At him, at myself - I’m not sure. But I’ve been angry before.

So, progress? Or total failure all around? The jury’s still out, and the end of the year is fast approaching. So, if I’m going to fail, I’d really like to do it within the next couple of days so that I don’t start the new year off on the wrong foot. Any advice between now and 12:01 a.m. on Tuesday will be considered and greatly appreciated (with allowances for those in more westerly time zones). Just so you know, I’ve already received the “fuck him” directive, but unfortunately there’s more than one way to take that.