Fuck With Me
Perhaps I am not in the right frame of mind to digest this, as I am on nearly 36 hours without sleep (not kink-related -- well, not intentionally), but it stuck with me. There was a lot of our conversation that was recorded, but this one evaded that. He said something very much like:
It seemed really important that it came at that time. This hit me hard in a couple of different ways. I suppose, most directly, it resonates with my masochistic urges. There is a part of me that loves pain. On many levels and for many reasons. It is cathartic, direct, focusing, intense, definite, palpable. It is very much alive. And all types of pain. He said fuck with me. It's engaging and intimate. How might he go about this? How is it going to feel? How much can I just vacantly consume?
It nurtured my issues of worthiness. To fuck with someone takes energy, takes commitment, takes a desire to know them and then break them. For any number of reasons, I have grown to accept that I am not worthy of that time or effort. It's not Johnny's doing. It's not B, not my brother, it started much earlier than that and originated with me. I decided somewhere along the way that my needs and wants were not as important as the people around me, strangers. I still secretly want approval so much, but I hate myself for needing it. I should be invisible because if someone has to waste energy on me, even to compliment or praise me, I feel like I took something from them. Maybe time, energy. I still have to work very hard to control my feelings of guilt. I am motivated to feel more worthy because I love Johhny. I want him to have the best, know it's the best. And I could never be the best, but I could be better, and there's a possibility that I could convince myself that maybe, maybe he wouldn't mind so much that I took something from him. He wants to fuck with me. That's a gift.
It challenges my ego. Despite the issues with worthiness, I have big pockets of ego and competitveness. He wants to fuck with me. Does he really think I can't see his game? Does he think that he could fuck with me? I am more than manipulative, more than vindictive, if you're going to challenge me there. I can do this, mutherfucker. You want to play headgames? You think you're more clever than me? You think you can control that part? You're in fucking dreamland, baby. I am bristling. Bristling! It makes me want to fight. And so the games begin. I get off on the game. I get off on winning. But, I get off on losing more.
Ownership. It's that same smug, detached shruggery. Yeah, I made that word up. But that's what it feels like, you know? Dismissive and finite. You're mine and so of course I love you, but you're mine and I can fuck with you if it pleases me. I want to break you because I can. It's simple and oddly, safe. And ultimately, a passive's wetdream. No more debate. Just existence, unity, calm. It has to be accepted because there is no other way.
Perhaps more concerning, it's romantic. It's an extension of something bigger: I want to fuck with you because I love you. It makes me sound like a fucking freak. Wait, wait. That's my judgemental inner voice. Well, it's just my inner voice, I'm always judgemental. Sometimes I am really in awe of how distorted my thinking is. I know that it is only seen as wrong by the mainstream because it's atypical, but really, it's not that atypical, is it? Don't all couples fuck with each other at some level in order to make-up, to reaffirm that they feel insanely passionate to some degree? I hope so.
I think it comes down to my most favorite element of the kink: power play. It's about the exchange for me. I love the pain and I love the appearance, but I don't crave the physical sensations or the visual extravanganza like I do the game. And to have someone who wants it too? Lucky. And to have someone who wants it more? Luckier. Someone who loves you, but wants to fuck with you? Luckiest.
"I love you, but I want to fuck with you."
It seemed really important that it came at that time. This hit me hard in a couple of different ways. I suppose, most directly, it resonates with my masochistic urges. There is a part of me that loves pain. On many levels and for many reasons. It is cathartic, direct, focusing, intense, definite, palpable. It is very much alive. And all types of pain. He said fuck with me. It's engaging and intimate. How might he go about this? How is it going to feel? How much can I just vacantly consume?
It nurtured my issues of worthiness. To fuck with someone takes energy, takes commitment, takes a desire to know them and then break them. For any number of reasons, I have grown to accept that I am not worthy of that time or effort. It's not Johnny's doing. It's not B, not my brother, it started much earlier than that and originated with me. I decided somewhere along the way that my needs and wants were not as important as the people around me, strangers. I still secretly want approval so much, but I hate myself for needing it. I should be invisible because if someone has to waste energy on me, even to compliment or praise me, I feel like I took something from them. Maybe time, energy. I still have to work very hard to control my feelings of guilt. I am motivated to feel more worthy because I love Johhny. I want him to have the best, know it's the best. And I could never be the best, but I could be better, and there's a possibility that I could convince myself that maybe, maybe he wouldn't mind so much that I took something from him. He wants to fuck with me. That's a gift.
It challenges my ego. Despite the issues with worthiness, I have big pockets of ego and competitveness. He wants to fuck with me. Does he really think I can't see his game? Does he think that he could fuck with me? I am more than manipulative, more than vindictive, if you're going to challenge me there. I can do this, mutherfucker. You want to play headgames? You think you're more clever than me? You think you can control that part? You're in fucking dreamland, baby. I am bristling. Bristling! It makes me want to fight. And so the games begin. I get off on the game. I get off on winning. But, I get off on losing more.
Ownership. It's that same smug, detached shruggery. Yeah, I made that word up. But that's what it feels like, you know? Dismissive and finite. You're mine and so of course I love you, but you're mine and I can fuck with you if it pleases me. I want to break you because I can. It's simple and oddly, safe. And ultimately, a passive's wetdream. No more debate. Just existence, unity, calm. It has to be accepted because there is no other way.
Perhaps more concerning, it's romantic. It's an extension of something bigger: I want to fuck with you because I love you. It makes me sound like a fucking freak. Wait, wait. That's my judgemental inner voice. Well, it's just my inner voice, I'm always judgemental. Sometimes I am really in awe of how distorted my thinking is. I know that it is only seen as wrong by the mainstream because it's atypical, but really, it's not that atypical, is it? Don't all couples fuck with each other at some level in order to make-up, to reaffirm that they feel insanely passionate to some degree? I hope so.
I think it comes down to my most favorite element of the kink: power play. It's about the exchange for me. I love the pain and I love the appearance, but I don't crave the physical sensations or the visual extravanganza like I do the game. And to have someone who wants it too? Lucky. And to have someone who wants it more? Luckier. Someone who loves you, but wants to fuck with you? Luckiest.
posted by macaroon at 7:22 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home