thexduchess-blog1

[thexduchess-blog1]

Reflections.

Unattached

The whole unattached thing. As a general rule, with play-partners, FwB and fuckbuddys, I don’t get attached. It gets messy, boundaries are crossed and people catch feelings and it’s just, ugh. No.

There’s a thing I’ve been meaning to do, and that’s reflect on last years, and last weeks explosive, Krakatoa level eruptions that essentially convinced me that everyone is a lying cunt, and I can never properly trust anyone ever again because holy fuck, this is a belter.

Without going into ridiculously specific detail that would identify the piece of shit scumbag wanker, as much as I want to, I won’t.

Around 10/11 years ago I became friends with a guy, and at first we just fooled around but it eventually developed into a pretty serious and committed D/s relationship. Life got in the way occasionally but we always came back together and fell right back into place with each other. We saw each other 3 times a week, went away together, attended events together, and holy fuck the sex was amazing, but so were the lazy mornings, sending pictures to each other at work, goodnight phone calls and late nights getting high under the stars. We explored a lot together, found our limits and what we liked, and things we REALLY liked xD we found our roles and I still identify with those roles. He was my first Daddy, first ‘real’ Dom, I was his first baby, his sub. We helped each other through a hell of a lot. No, we weren’t exclusive, but there were periods where we were. For 10 years.

Last year, I got an email from a girl asking if I knew him. I messaged him and asked him who she was, and he confessed that that was his girlfriend. They’d been together the whole time, she was pregnant with his kid and he’d been lying the whole time, to me and her.

I had no idea she existed. Turns out he was a fucking brilliant liar.

She had caught him flirting with a girl at work, and went through his phone. Boom, all the emails, texts, pictures and phone calls between us. Photos of us together, intimate photos, explicit texts with times and dates. There was no escaping the fact he was lying. Obviously, I stopped it right then and there, explained everything to her, that I had no idea she existed, sent her screenshots of messages where he says he isn’t with anyone else, the whole shebang. I deleted and blocked every avenue of communication, apologised to her a million times.

And I shut down. Not only did I shut down, I vowed never to open up or trust anyone, I decided the best way to deal with it was to take copious amounts of cocaine & speed, various benzos and drink way, way too much over the course of about 6 weeks, self harming and starving myself out of fear, guilt and heartbreak. I was fighting, causing trouble and generally ruining my life, as I slept with all the wrong people and made all the wrong decisions. If I wasn’t in the pub, I was probably sleeping with someone, but no doubt I’d be back in the pub later.

Thing is I was still going to work through the day, owning the business allows you certain privileges, like being left the fuck alone. It wasn’t immediately obvious that I was destroying myself until my foreman came back from annual leave. He’s the same age as me, a really good friend, he’s picked me up, literally more than once. I probably don’t deserve his loyalty and kindness. He came into the office once the other boys had left, shut the door behind him and emptied my handbag across the desk in between us. Strips of pills, bags of powder and over an ounce of green came tumbling out, with grinder, mirror and old store card too.

I fought like fuck to get them back but I didn’t have a Catholic’s chance in Fountain against him. He burned everything except the green. Not before he locked me in my own office going fucking mental.

However, like the legend he is, he picked me up. I was at his sweating everything out and howling at the fucking moon because everything i’d blocked out with pills and powder came flooding in at once and I genuinely thought I was going to die if I cried anymore. I cried until I was sick and breathless, my body ached and my mind felt like it was being electrocuted. But Jai never left me. He put up with the anger, the hurt, the tears and the brief periods of laughter. He stayed with me while I ate, he held me as I shook in my sleep, he listened to every rant and sobbing monologue. I don’t think I’d have lasted much longer if he hadn’t pulled me out that hole. Either my mind or my body was going to snap under the pressure. He encouraged me to talk about what happened, and be explicit in how I felt.

I hadn’t done anything wrong. I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have entertained him if I knew. This wasn’t my fault. But I still felt guilty that he’d cheated on her, ashamed that I was partly responsible for the apparent breakdown of a relationship, I was embarrassed when I thought about how intimate we were, empty that suddenly a huge part of my life had disappeared over night, broken and desperately sad that I didn’t have that connection anymore. And that was okay.

It fucking hurt. But it wasn’t my fault.

Eventually I got a grip, gave myself a shake and with Jai holding my hand I got up off the floor and opened the curtains again. Life continued on and slowly returned to normal. I quit playing within the kink community for a while, unable to trust anyone enough to submit or obey or whatever, I focused on work and keeping myself relatively sober.

Recently, my confidence is coming back. I’ve lost a bit of weight, my tits look amazing, my nails are finally growing, I look good in jersey dresses again, lol.

I came back to fet, I went to a social last month and met a couple old friends, M & I are seeing each other regularly again and life is generally ok.

But then I got an email last week. From Him. The Ex.

“...we’ve finished, can we talk?”

He told a convincing story about being separated since she found out, they’d moved into different houses, shared custody of the kid, he’d moved workplaces etc

I went out to meet him and we went to dinner. I didn’t drink. I asked him why he lied. He gave me an excuse that didn’t even nearly explain it, but was along the lines of wanting the best of both worlds. He apparently convinced me enough that he wasn’t with her anymore, even though I prodded and poked and asked a thousand questions to make sure I wasn’t being fucking lied to again. We went back to his place, sat outside and smoked, he told me how he felt, I told him how I felt. We ended up laughing and ended up in bed. Everything fell back into place, but I made it clear there was no attachment anymore, this was a one off and it wasn’t me forgiving him. To be honest, he’s a good ride. Sue me.

Except in the early hours, I noticed the faux fur of a hooded jacket poking out the cupboard under the stairs. I flipped out. I rang Leigh to pick me up and, while checking my emails in the morning, got hit with even more shit, so I went straight to my old dealers and bought far too much coke, alcohol and green.

I locked myself in my room, sent his girlfriend an email telling her everything, including screenshots of his email, put my phone on silent, and got smashed.

I embarrassed myself and other people, I nearly fucked up something I don’t want to fuck up, I pushed my body to the limit in a matter of hours because I knew I was going to feel everything again.

Jai to the rescue. Obviously I wasn’t at work, he knew I’d gone out for dinner the night before and put 2+2 together. Whisked away to safety again, and I sobered up pretty quickly.

As before, he forced me to face the things I was feeling and be honest about them. Then told me to clear things up with people and apologise, which I did.

Last time, I said I’d never trust or open myself to anyone, but sometimes things happen that make you realise it’s not that you can’t trust anyone, you just can’t trust them. I know that might be pretty obvious to a normal person but I’m not neurotypical.

I know I need to take the steps to be more social again, to be confident and know my worth, but in all honesty my confidence has been shattered.

I’m still me. I guess I’ve still got the same humour, I’m still cynical and pretty much a cunt, i’m still sugar sweet & sour as fuck, but I just don’t have that confidence anymore. Sure, I have moments, as you can tell. I still edit out imperfections though.

It’s funny how when the person who gave you that body confidence leaves, they take it with them.

I’m a little more shy, a little less likely to start a conversation, a hell of a lot more anxious, but I’m working on it. I’ve a little self esteem growing.

I can trust people, and if I’ve told you I trust you, know wholeheartedly that I do because you make me feel comfortable.

I just don’t get attached, simply because I don’t want hurt.

I’m sure someone will ease that fear eventually, and I’m looking forward to finding someone I can see a future D/s dynamic. Maybe they’re already lurking in my peripheral. I’m gonna stay positive. Life was shit for a while there, but it seems to be picking up a bit.

I am not defined by his actions.

I know my worth, and I’m worth more than being a dirty little secret.

[thexduchess-blog1]

🖤 mucho importante gente 🖤