I was eating dinner with H. And I had just finished explaining why there was no way in hell his suggestion for something I might do with a friend would fly. I had told him all about her and what she will and will not do. (Geez, this is sounding like a sexual something, but it wasn't so interesting, sorry!)
He just sat there calmly, Things change.
"Unh-unh, no way. This won't."
Things change. And then he went on:
You know how I know that things change? Because you are sitting across from me right now. You with your rules about men who are more than 10 years older and who have kids and all of that. Well? Why are you here then?
Because things change.
Why am I with H? Is it because he is such a hunky Italian god? (He was even characterized as Gaston in a comment on this gal's post.) No, it is not that. He is a hunky Italian god, but I assume everyone knows that looks are very subjective and can distinctly alter based on personality and common interests.
Am I with him because I decided to ignore my own rules and chase after this man when no others were around? (Okay, I won't even answer that one because it just makes me snort.)
I am with H because he courted me. He courted me so smoothly, I didn't even know that it was happening until I literally turned around one day and fell into his waiting arms. He patiently worked my many rules and all the ways that I got into my head about men until he was on the inside. And then I was his forever.
Just like writing a letter or a thank you note in cursive, courting is a lost art. There is a Sex and the City episode where Carrie is being courted by the Russian and it is so far out of her comfort zone that it causes her to swoon. I get that. Courting is not the only lost art; being courted is also an expectation we have lost.
I think H is currently courting the sweet submissive girl that we both know exists inside me. He is doing it carefully to preserve the smart mouthy woman that he loves.
But that smart mouthy woman finds it oh so aggravating to realize that she has been worked over for literally years to end up exactly where he wants her. And it is even more aggravating to realize that your rules (made for survival purposes really) were bullshit; your choices in men were wrong; and he was right all along.
And what really gets to me is the realization that while He is working on mastering His domination of me, I know that you will never see him writing a post about how my submission is not perfect for him. And how I am doing it wrong and how it is nothing like he imagined.
So I continue to struggle and fight and get all up in my head about how I think it needs to be for me. And H just keeps coming along. One step at a time down a path with a goal in mind. And the fact that his goals and his courting efforts still include me, well, that makes me a pretty lucky girl, who should know better by now.
You may have noticed that I am calling him H again. As I commented in an earlier post, I started calling him Master right when some very Daddy like things were happening. I was scared of Daddy. (I am scared of it.) I didn't want it to have the effect it had. And yes, I reacted very actively by naming him the opposite. By calling him Master.
Master is okay and it has a place in our dynamic, but in this case, I was doing it for the wrong reasons. So I am stopping. Unless it is appropriate to the moment I am describing.
I have learned how to admit that I am sometimes wrong. I also have learned that sometimes, you just need a hunky Italian god that is willing to do a little bit of courting.