Jan 012014
 

Skidding into the end of a year that was, on balance, more emotionally difficult than not, and rough on my relationships I held dear.

Amidst the usual online dating fails, I received a message on December 19th. Respectful with a little bit of zest, acknowledging he was a bit older than I’d initially indicated I sought, but selling me on the fact he has an accent…it was intriguing enough to get me to respond. According to OKCupid, we were a 92% match…which is pretty fucking unusual. A successful composer, newly relocated to NYC from Europe, looking for a BDSM oriented relationship…well, fuck it. Let’s see how this goes.

How it goes…well.

My past relationships have been often marked with that crazed NRE (New Relationship Energy) that is essentially unsustainable but oh so temptingly delicious. The OMGICANNOTGETENOUGHOFYOUMOREMOREMORE thing. This wasn’t. It felt entirely reasonable. He was remarkably candid. None of my alarms were going off. And now that I know how to listen to that very quiet voice, I appreciated that the inner calm was NOT an indicator of a lack of chemistry, but an indicator of a truly remarkable things. That chemistry need not be explosive to produce heat and light. Our conversations veered from sharing our stories to negotiating a potential relationship to making clear our needs and desires. As the next week, then second week unspooled, I realized that this man was, in fact, unearthing possibilities I’d abandoned as impossible. He was offering – unasked – that which I had long ago buried as impossible dreams. Despite not having experience in formal to-purpose BDSM relationships, his ideas on what a M/S relationship should look like to best meet his needs was flabbergastingly in line with my retired desires. It is hard to let myself believe that this could be a real person, a real situation, that someone who would want to own me would do so in the context of respect and desire and happiness and mutual pleasure and profound responsibility.

Soon after we began talking, he was discussing collars and ownership and my “NO NO Nooooo!” screams started up. Despite the fact that I’ve longed for someone to say just these things to me in just that way for exactly 20 years, it seemed too much too soon. “Take it slow!” “they” often say.

Well, fuck “them”…fuck them right in the ear and within a few days I realized that slamming on breaks due to fear is not my way.

Short of two weeks into our relationship, he had to leave for a trip abroad to visit his youngest child. And I realized I was going to miss him and the idea of a token of bonding would actually be very nice, thank you. So I mustered up the ovaries (mind you, it took three days!) to ask if he might consider a little something,. A bracelet, perhaps? That would serve as a small reminder while he was away. And in silver, please. I don’t like gold. And the next day, over tea, he placed this heavy chain of links on my wrist. And considering I hadn’t given him a rundown on my personal style? I was stunned at how perfect is it.

December 20th, 2013

Since meeting The Composer (he’ll remain pseudonymous for a bit.) I’ve thought to myself that perhaps I was finally in the presence of someone I could trust … Someone who would also trust me. It takes so much for my heart to open. Really. I am in awe…and looking forward to our journey.

Welcome, 2014. Show me whatcha got.

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  5 Responses to “Recomposition.”

  1. Relationships can be for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. Hope this is the latter for you. Thrilled for you!!!

  2. I shall be watching you two with grand maternal delight.

    Love,
    Grandmom Vi

  3. I am beyond delighted for you! May it be everything you each/both hope for…

  4. I sense calm and contentment in your words. Being a stranger doesn’t seem to mask the power of your voice. So happy for you Mollena.

  5. Mo, this is soooooooooo squeetastic. I am very happy for you, you totes deserve this.

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