Hurting My little

Before I begin, I’m going to be knocking an important post down by posting this, so if you have not yet, please go read : Practicing What You Preach

Thank you.


Relationships are hard.

Nonmonogamy is hard.

This seems to be a recurring theme in my life right now.  If you click the links over there to the left where I list ‘Blogs I Read’ you’ll find that the front page posts for two of them deal with variations on this theme.

I am in a nonmonogamous relationship because I do believe that no one person can fill all of the needs of another.  I believe that it is impossible to be everything to someone for the long haul.  In the beginning parts of a relationship, when NRE is strong, you can easily overlook the things that are missing in the light of all of the fantastic that is currently going.

That is a pretty easy concept to embrace when the point is academic, or possibly even when it is you selfishly seeking a need that you aren’t getting met currently, but it’s a bit more of a struggle when you have to realize that it is you who is unable to meet that need in your partner.

I’m in love with my partner.

Nine months ago, I could not say those words, much less write them in a publicly accessible place where anyone from teh interwebs(misspelling intentional) could read them.

It’s true though.  I love her.

And I can’t be everything that she needs.

And intellectually I’m okay with that.

I want her to have other friends, other confidants, other lovers, other play partners.  I want her to be healthy and happy and the best her that she can be. 

I try to help focus her where I can, and while I don’t always succeed, I think on balance I do a decent job.  But she has needs that I cannot satisfy.

I’ve talked a little bit about this before in my post Owning the Object of Your Affection, where I wrote this:

Semantics sorted, we’re left with a modicum of understanding about what this ‘love’ thing is, at least in Rant’s mind.

So – for possibly the first time in Rant’s life, he finds himself in love.

Please forgive that brief and annoying use of the third person to describe myself, but those concepts are so foreign to how I perceived the world a scant few months ago that I find it difficult to express in any other way, but here’s the defining statement for you: I believe that I have found the love of my life.

The emphasis is new, but appropriate.

But it’s been a few months since then and things are coming into short relief right now.

And I do mean right now.

As I write this, she’s out on a date with a guy that I haven’t met, but from everything that I can tell, he’s a great guy.  I’ll meet him someday soon, and I’m sure that when I do, we’ll be fast friends.  My partner has a type, and we’re both slightly different specimens of that type, so either we’ll be great friends or bitter enemies, and I have every incentive to make sure that it comes out the former rather than the latter.  She likes him; she may even love him someday, and I’m intellectually okay with that.

But then there’s the feels.

My partner is my babygirl.  Our dynamic is not one of diapers and age-play in that vein, but she has a naturally bubbly personality and she is happiest when she is channelling her inner child, her little, to use the appropriate nomenclature of the BDSM world.  And I am happiest when I am being Protector and nurturing, so we naturally fall into one of the classic Daddy/babygirl archetypes – of which there are several.

However, when I am in Daddy headspace, I cannot hurt my little.  I simply cannot bring myself to do it.  My body stops.  My mind spirals away into cuckoo land.  My dick goes limp, my limbs get heavy, and I simply can’t lift my twitchy palm.

I love my partner and I have a hard enough time hurting her when I am not in Daddy headspace, but when I’m there, I just can’t do it.  And when she is little, I go into Daddy headspace automatically.

I am not a Sadist, and I never get pleasure from inflicting pain, but sometimes I like to be a Fluffy Service Top(™) and provide pain for those that require it, and when I do, I can be brutal.  I can slap you so hard that you think you left a tooth or an eyeball behind.  I can leave bruises on you that will last for weeks.  I can grind your shoulder into the carpet until it bleeds and seeps for days.  These are not things that I need to do, but they are things that she needs to feel, and I cannot provide them.

And it’s not that I don’t care for the women for whom I am able to provide this service – sometimes I care for them quite deeply, else I’d not put myself into FST mode – but I’m not in Daddy headspace then and I’m not in love.

This other guy can do that for her.

And for that I am grateful.

And I’m also jealous.

And I’m afraid.

And I’m happy too…

Compersion is a weird thing.

So, she is, right now, with this guy, my friend-to-be, getting her needs met, and I’m feeling happy and afraid and jealous all at the same time.

Because I love my partner.

Because I love my little.

Because I cannot hurt my little, but someone else can, and that will help to make her the best her than she can be.

I love you, my sweet angel.

Rant off.

Practicing what you preach

I don’t really use social media.

I don’t have a facebook page.  I don’t have a twitter account.  I don’t routinely contribute to reddit.

My only outlets for getting my opinion to other people are my voice (which I’m told can carry pretty well when I want it to..) my fetlife account, and this blog, which has attracted more readers than I ever thought possible.

So – I’m going to use what little bit of Internet clout that I have to push something.  Forgive me if I offend.

My partner has a friend.  This friend helped her out when she was in a terrible place in her life, and now she needs help herself.

I don’t know this person, and I’m not about to try to relate her story since I don’t know it, but she describes what happened pretty well in her GoFundMe page, so I invite you to read about it there – the link is at the end of this post.

I am extremely fortunate.  I have all that I need and more.  I am not wealthy and I probably never will be, but I firmly believe in sharing what I can with good people, and I think that this qualifies.

I am a father and a feminist and I try to be a good human being.

I donate to charity every year, and my contributions are usually even spaced and well tracked and I can feel good about the dollars that I give to the Red Cross, but that is structured charity and has tax implications and whatnot.. all of the confusing bullshit that gets dragged along with things when we collectively try to destroy graft.

But the true meaning of charity – the one that I really do still believe in, despite being an atheist now – is the one that came from early organized religions.. the sharing of what you have with those in need.  No one should go hungry.  No one should be homeless.  No one should live in fear – of any of these things, or of anything else that can be prevented.

I don’t know Tass.  We’ve never met.  But she helped someone I love when she needed it most, and now she needs help too.

If you can spare anything, even just $5 or $10, I am sure that she would be grateful for the support, and so would I.

You can read all about her here: Keep Momma Tass & Baby LJ Safe


This is not a real blog entry.

This is not the blog entry that you are looking for.

Move along.

Move along.


Okay.. well, in all seriousness, I have many things to say, but I don’t have the words to say them right now.  I know you, gentle reader, are probably wondering why I have made so few entries since I gave myself the 500 words per day task and probably think that I have abandoned that ideal completely.

I have not.  I have added some bits to previous writing exercises and created some new things that are not appropriate for the blog, but more importantly, it’s November, and that means NaNoWriMo.

National Novel Writing Month, for the uninitiated, happens every November, and the participants, myself included, pledge to attempt to write a 50,000 word novel entirely within the month of November.

I’ve been doing it off and on for the past several years, and while I’ve only once (my first year, when my dedication was highest) succeeded in accomplishing the 50,000 word goal, I still give it my best shot.

As of now, I’m about 20,000 words in and about 10,000 words behind schedule.  I have to write considerably more than 500 words per day if I’m going to achieve my goal, and hence – no blog posts since late October.

Fear not though – December will see me clearing the backlog of nearly-complete-but-as-yet-unpublished blog posts and hopefully a return to a more regular writing cadence.

Until then, thank you for keeping me honest.

Rant off.