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The dismal failure of online meeting

The dismal failure of online meeting

As you know from my earlier posts, my search for Miss has made me explore a multitude of online meeting venues that sounded promising from a variety of angles. Today I would like to give updates and further examples of why online meeting is a dismal fraud failure in general, and even more so when the aim isn’t a connection that involves men in one way or the other. I refer to online “meeting”…

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A submissive who dislikes BDSM? Precisely, and for many reasons.

A submissive who dislikes BDSM? Precisely, and for many reasons.

16 September 2018

As you know from “Part 2: a search with many approaches”, one of the ways I have explored on my quest to connect with like-minded young ladies is BDSM. After all, my submissive feelings could neatly match with similar dominant feelings, so the “D/s” at the centre of the acronym (which stand for Dominance/submission, in case you wonder) would seem to be a very appropriate way to…

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So, does Miss actually exist?

New year, new room, good old question. After these winter months, my thoughts seem to be up again on the issue, and this time they are suggesting a new answer. That is to say, I'm changing my mind. I used to think that my failure to find Miss or Misses is because we lack ways of getting in touch. But now, I start seriously doubting that any such Miss actually exists. 

It is a gut feeling, mainly due to a very simple fact. See, I used to wonder how to tell if someone might be Miss. That is, how I could spot the interest and traits that are necessary for this kind of relationship. I then realised the answer is very simple: if we ever come across each other, we will know. I, for certain, will spot the personality from her face and demeanour, and Miss will do the same. I will notice her poise and her dignity, and she will see I notice. Just by looking at each other we will know if there is liking and interest. 

So the simple fact is: I have never met such young lady. Let me be more precise. 

First of all, elegance. There really are soo few elegant young ladies out there. Blue jeans reign supreme, along with hoodies, foul language and slouching. If the XVIII and XIX centuries might well be dubbed the age of elegance, ours is no doubt the age of sloppiness. It's an age when people no longer know what dignity and self-respect is, along with respect for others. The idea of beauty now entails lips that resemble a hot dog, tattered jeans that an Indian street child would be ashamed to wear, and the unmissable trainers. 

Of course, fashion is the outer expression of a mentality that considers not just acceptable, but even desirable, to swear and reject any poise as boring and inappropriate. This was openly shared with me by the daughter of one of my former landlords: a 20 year old lady who studies at Cambridge and is convinced that swearing shows that one has character and is "cool". It's not only her opinion, it's what all her friends believe. To them, the crisp, elegant received pronounciation is a sort of stigma. She even got to the point to believe that Victorian houses must be bad by association, because the Victorian times were an age of oppression, colonialism, and so forth. Reality and logic hold no place in the thoughts of these privileged Cambridge students, it's all about the simple: "new is cool, old is boo". No wonder you then have students from rich families who take drugs and behave and dress like ghetto scoundrels. 

This is apparent in the school where I work too. Being it a highschool, most students mercifully wear a uniform. But the sixth formers don't. When I bring them lunch, I usually find them slouching on the coach with their feet in the air, often swearing or listening to loud rap music. Other times they are slouching directly on the floor, in a sort of hippy camping, always in their hoodies and tracksuits. This is it: and that's the daugthers of the privileged families who can afford one of the most exclusive private schools in London. To be honest, whenever I have to climb up there I wonder whether it's worth keeping that job. On one occasion, the students were being taught some martial art by a young man. Now, leaving aside any thoughts on how feminity and grace can be possibly enhanced by kicking and punching, my point is that the young man was teaching them to shout the "f" word to give a move more momentum. "Three, two, one, f***! Three, two, one, f***!" That was it, the whole 6th Form in unison. Until the gods took pity and sent a teacher to ask the young man to keep it proper -suggestion that the young man seemed to take somewhat scornfully. 

Now, could the students be blamed for the amount of televised trash they have absorbed since birth, for the myriads of messages that continously target them and tell them to be vulgar, and for attending a school where even the occasional contract teacher instructs them to swear? Obviously not. Today's youth are just what they are meant to be: the honest mirror of an age where elegance is not just forgotten, it's actively destroyed and prevented. With this in mind, I must admit it would be surprising, to say the least, to come across a young lady who retains ladylike manners and outlook. To achieve that, one would have to go against the stream on purpose, while overcoming a tremendous peer pressure and any inevitable feeling of enstrangement and inadequacy. It would truly require a great deal of understanding and self determination, which clearly one cannot expect to find very often, or to find at all. In fact, in this light my own love for elegance is truly surprising, and I don't have an explanation for it. Granted, I love elegance but I'm not elegant myself. Still, I must admit that I've never slouched on my school's floor with my feet in the air.

So, elegance is a rare occurrence nowadays, and among the under 25s it becomes a trace element. Things get worse when you consider that the lack of elegance is strictly correlated to the fantastic belief that we are all equal. And hey, in a way today we really are. Sure bank accounts may feature much more or much less figures, but in the end we all wear hoodies, listen to the same songs and speak in the same way. The refined ways of the upper class have been flattened to Cockney level, or rather Congo level. 

Which takes us to the second point: the mindset that can conceive or even desire a Miss/servant dynamic. If what is taught and instilled today is that we are all supposed to be equal, and that anyone can become more important by robbing accumulating money, is there any space left for the feeling of belonging to a different class, which is the basis for a Miss/servant dynamic? Clearly not. The distinction between rich and poor is not a class distinction. It's merely an accident, one that is furthermore to be concealed, mitigated, played down to avoid any feeling of unfairness and resentment and carry on with the pretence that we are all equal. To place an accent on or to be proud of one's privilege is now an extremely unpopular thing to do, one that would be straight into face of the hypocritical political correctness of our times. 

To sum it up, not only could Miss only be someone who pursues elegance in spite of all modern trends, but she would even be aware and proud of her class privilege in spite of modern hypocrisy. No doubt a truly remarkable personality, of clear understanding and strong will. How likely? You decide for yourself. And it's not finished. On top of such traits, Miss and I could obviously connect only if we liked each other. No doubt you see why my thoughts have taken a pessimistic turn. 

As I said, I have never met such young lady. The elegant ones I see tend to be over 25, and probably dress relatively smart only because they have to adhere to business dresscode. A better opportunity to see people's true fashion sense is at weekends, during their shopping or dining trips. Even better in summertime, when T-shirts make it so easy to look cheap. In fact I've done the experiment by walking on King's Road in July, and the results were, well, dismal. Let's face it: elegance is dead. But even on the rare occasions when I have seen a classy young lady, somehow I could tell she wasn't Miss. I haven't seen the poise, the glance, the demeanour of Miss. Perhaps not by chance, those rare young ladies have never noticed me. I can tell their thoughts are far away, they have no interest in a servant. It cannot click.

My thought now goes to the young lady I met in San Francisco's Nob Hill years ago on my American adventure. I had arrived at the guesthouse where I was supposed to help the landlady keep the place clean. The young lady was the only guest at the moment, a 23 year design student from Colorado. It was her to open the door, and my heart throbbed. Gosh, how pretty she was. Red hair and cute face, like in my dreams. And yes she was privileged. Spoilt, used to getting her way and impatient to wait, according to the landlady. She even liked the beautiful arpeggios of Chopin's music. Something that I found terribly sweet, she was pretty unable to look after herself for food and daily necessities. What a darling. One evening I even made dinner for her in the best way I could, with the food she liked and the table set in the grandest way. She was pleasantly surprised. I guess I don't need to tell you what I made of her offer to wash the dishes. Because, yes, she sadly offered to help. She was so sweet and friendly. In fact, in the few weeks I spent there it became apparent to me she couldn't be Miss. Her mindset was so far from having a servant. And her deportment, well, a bit American. But it was a nice try, and I should probably regret not having stayed longer. See, I was 18, and still had a magical view of my dream. I wasn't ready to content myself with the crumbs.

Anyway you get the gist: even when you do find a bit of elegance, the mindset is not there, and the personality is not there.

So, how about my last endeavour on planet Lolita? Well, the same conclusion hold true: apart from the fact that Lolita fashion and elegance are rarely synonims, and that at best it's usually a sporadic kind of elegance that doesn't invest daily life, the mindset of most Lolitas seem to be up to date with modern trends, and their personality far from Miss's. That explains why my posts on groups of thousands of Lolitas haven't got any interest: there isn't any. They are not Misses. It cannot click. 

The mysterious author of the blog I quoted on my previous post, as expected, didn't reply to any of my emails. If she received them, any comment is redundant. If not, it's pointless for her to post contact details on her website. This is precisely why I no longer waste my time writing to this or that online user. Besides, a friend of mine who is a world authority on Tumblr, as she spends inordinate amounts of time on it, tells me that she's never come across any elegant bloggers. No surprise, of course. And another friend of mine who knows many Lolitas tells a similar story.

So, no elegant young ladies on Tumblr, not on Kings Road, not at my school, not in Lolita groups... seems like there aren't that many anywhere. With elegance, the quintessential trait of Miss, being so incredibly rare, to assume that there is somewhere a young lady who is not only elegant but also has no problem with inequality and would like to have a servant, is like betting on the existence of aliens. Sure aliens might exist somewhere in the universe, but to expect to come across any would be a tad far-fetched.

So this is it: after all my attempts, my encounters, my investigations, I've come to the conclusion that Miss most probably doesn't exist. It matters little that there might be one, two, or a dozen in the whole world: I will never meet them anyway. It is of course a very hard bite to swallow; nonetheless there's nothing else I can do. Sure the door for Miss will be kept open, but I won't be checking every other minute. There is no room in modern world for things like class, poetry, discreet feelings. Everything must be debased and vulgar. Today's girls are after smartphone chats, torn jeans, martial arts, monkey dances... they sure have no time for servants, nor can they remotely see the appeal of such dynamics. Playing the piano, reading classical literature? Ha! Marijuana socials replaced all that long ago. Pride in their heritage and education? You must be kidding -going rough in East End clubs is the cool thing now. And it's no consolation that modern society will soon crash, as any falling plane is bound to do.

It seems like the only thing I'm left with is to wonder why I was born in this century, or why I was given an inclination that I have no way of fulfilling. And I guess the answer is simply: shit happens. But, you know what? I won't ditch my dream. You keep your ragged jeans and marijuana, you cool girls. And I'll keep my feelings.

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A new name for an old lifestyle: Classic Lolitas!

A new name for an old lifestyle: Classic Lolitas!

  12 July, 2017 “Lolita”. While some associate such word to images of somewhat lascivious girls, the picture that I’ve had in my mind up to not long ago was that of Asian girls in over-the-top baby pink and kitten-print dresses mimicking anime characters. Something that, quite frankly, had prevented me to look properly into the community. More recently though I found out that, besides sweet,…

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Part 6: Dream is closer from a distance.

Part 6: Dream is closer from a distance.

  02-05-17 So you have this romantic old-fashioned soul who certainly knows how hard it is for women to get along with each other, and is acutely aware of the challenging traits that the feminine half of the world is prone to. How can there still be scope for a fulfilling interaction with Miss? Well, it’s quite simple: the kind of relationship I would like simply leaves those lovely traits out of…

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Part 5: Dreamer or cynical? Neither, just realistic.

Part 5: Dreamer or cynical? Neither, just realistic.

  01-05- 2017 Did I say poetry? I mean, poetic feelings in modern world? I know, it’s like talking about a palm tree in Antarctica. However, you would be mistaken to conclude that I live in a dream bubble, that I have unrealistic hopes. See, precisely because I know such feelings are like a palm tree in Antarctica, I don’t expect to find any more of their kind magically pop out of the ice. I am…

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Part 6: Dream is closer from a distance

So you have this romantic old-fashioned soul who certainly knows how hard it is for women to get along with each other, and is acutely aware of the challenging traits that the feminine half of the world is prone to. 

How can there still be scope for a fulfilling interaction with Miss? 

Well, it's quite simple: the kind of relationship I would like simply leaves those lovely traits out of the equation. They just don't matter. 

Haha, bingo! But how so?

Because, if you think about it, it's almost always equals that fight each other. When people assume they are equal they end up dissenting, arguing, resenting, trying to prevail, and so forth. You fight with your boyfriend, your neighbour, your classmate, your collegue: because they are people like you, on your same level, and you have expectations and claims towards them. On the contrary, when a pecking order is clear from the start, tension dissolves because it is assumed one has simply to obey. And you even put up with some abuse, unfairness and unpleasantness because it basically comes with the package. There is no room for fighting, roles are set and the parties know who has the last word. Brilliant, isn't it? Here we go! This is why the feminine mutual challenges don't matter much when you have to serve a young lady: you are not equal, therefore you don't discuss and you don't fight.

I was puzzled a few times when I came across people looking for someone that in their mind would have been at the same time their friend, their lover, their girl-Friday, their slave... Wwwhat? Can you please explain to me how that could be possible? One would have to constantly switch between interaction modes, and that is simply the perfect recipy for misunderstanding, frustration, and even abuse. What kind of mental and emotional gymnastic is that? Luckily, when roles are set things are much simpler. 

I suspect the young ladies used to having servants have a clearer view on the subject. I once read Maria Baibakova's advice on how to treat servants and, despite the hateful comments by the usual politically correct who don't have a clue, I found most of it quite sensible. She basically advised to keep some distance, no matter how much you may like your servant, because getting too close may confuse the roles, with the result that the servant will feel less pressured to do her job properly. 

And it's true. Modern mentality generally abhors explicit inequality (except the inequality of bank accounts, that seems to be perfectly acceptable), so hypocrisy is preferred to honest statements like this. And yet, I am absolutely convinced that explicit inequality makes for happier and better relationships than the hypocritical we-are-all-equal pretence. And it's much, much more fair. But more about this maybe later.

If I remember straight, there was only one point on which I would strongly disagree with Maria Baibakova: she advised that the ladies learn to do everything the servants do, in order to be self-sufficient and deny the servants any leverage -that is to say: if you don't work, you'll lose the job but I'm still alright. Frankly, if Miss had this kind of attitude I would lose any motivation in doing a job that she could do just as well. It would make me feel useless, redundant, with the result of making me work less, not more. Besides, the attitude of being self-sufficient shows mistrust and lack of appreciation for the servants' hard work and feelings. But about proper distance, the Russian lady was spot-on. 

From my stand point as a servant, I wouldn't want to get too close either: please, elegant young ladies, don't reveal too much of yourself to me, or I might lose my deference and the appeal of serving you. Do you know those paintings that look wonderful, until you get too close and they start looking sketchy? Exactly: it could be something like that. Every thing has its ideal observation point, and every relationship its ideal distance.

It's surely nice to get to know each other, but in getting too close we would inevitably blur the roles. No doubt you don't tell your servants the same things you tell to your close friends. For this reason, I tend to think it's easier to be Miss and servant than to be close friends. It requires less intimacy and a lower level of chemistry. And it makes for a very fulfulling and enjoyable relationship. After all, unequals don't fight. 

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Part 5: Dreamer or cynical? Neither: just realistic

Did I say poetry? I mean, poetic feelings in modern world? I know, it's like talking about a palm tree in Antarctica. However, you would be mistaken to conclude that I live in a dream bubble, that I have unrealistic hopes. See, precisely because I know such feelings are like a palm tree in Antarctica, I don't expect to find any more of their kind magically pop out of the ice. I am fully aware that they are unique, and that they will always be ignored, misunderstood, underestimated, laughed at, and so on. To think that I might find some poetic young ladies who can relate to and appreciate my inner world is basically the same as believing that some day I may win the lottery. 

My expectations are more based on reality, in fact they may even be more realistic than the usual ones about finding love, empathy, endless passion and so forth. Let's face it: we females rarely have it easy in getting along with each other. As sad as it is, we all know that our mutual feelings normally lie in the range of: envy, distrust, malevolence, indifference, contempt, avoidance, hypocritical tolerance, and so forth. Typically, during teenage years there is the exception of our besty, which is the intense emotional connection of two people who are growing and going through their hormonal changes and life discoveries together -while being nasty to everyone else. Once that is over and adult life starts, it's extremely rare for women to bond or even get along with each other. I know, it's a shame, but any social study and your personal experience will tell you it's like that. You will hear endless stories of women complaining about the bitchiness of their collegues, all the while exhibiting the same bitchiness themselves, you will see them chatting together faking approval and then backstabbing each other. Men gather aplenty for games, drinks and all sorts of activities, whereas women groups are rare and sparse. Fundamentally, women don't like each other. Most of them will tell you that they get better along with male friends. The fact that I don't like this reality and that there are exceptions doesn't prevent me from facing it for what it is.

Actually, to show you that my love for my own gender doesn't make me blind, let me have some fun and make a list of some lovely traits we females are prone to.

  #1. Women eternally expect attentions, as if each of them was owed everything for the sole reason of existing. I guess you guys have noticed, haven't you? "You didn't say hi to me! You only wrote two lines! You didn't give me a Christmas card!" If this can be a consolation, they expect the same even from other women, trust me. But of course, not all of them. Personally I'm kind of shocked when someone does have some attention for me!

#2. Women spot every unpleasantness in everyone BUT themselves. Have you noticed that most of the times when they talk they are complaining about someone? It seems that their boss, mother-in-law, neighbour, and pretty much everybody else is plagued with all sorts of shortcomings. But they don't question themselves, it's always someone else's fault. Typically they blame other people for doing the same things they do themselves: "You don't listen to me! I don't care what you are saying!"

#3. Women judge what is right and wrong, true and false from the top of their self-righteousness. Maybe because they get to be mums and teach their children how to behave, women believe that they stand on the moral high ground. But also towards fellow women! Their feelings are right, their choices are ethical, if you feel differently you are automatically blacklisted. Blacklisted? Ha! In their mind you become the equivalent of a child rapist and should be immediately expelled from society -actually: burned alive. You are very lucky if you come across one who has the intellectual honesty to realise that what she thinks is what she was taught or simply what she likes .

#4. Women are forever recalling incorrect and partial memories and quotes that suit them and discredit others. I'm quite sure husbands could write books on this. Not only a woman will never really forget or forgive someone else's blunder, still recalling it years down the road; she will attribute to you words you never said, intentions you never had, things you never did. Needless to say, her version of what happened makes her the victim and you the attacker: she is nice and you are nasty, she is right and you are wrong. We go back to #2 and #3. Do I do this too? If I do, please burn me alive. But believe me, I know how excruciating it is to be incorrectly quoted and accused, and I seek the assistance of the gods to not inflict such unspeakable sadism on a fellow human. 

#5. Women backstab you. Who doesn't know that? It starts from early childhood and it's a life-long strategy. Beeing not physically strong and caring too much for our nails and hairstyle to risk getting involved in actual violence, we prefer to hurt people in a less direct way, by plotting behind them and playing all sorts of dirty tricks. No doubts some are more experts than others in this, but coming across a woman who is nasty to you in an open way can be a challenge.

#6. Women are moody. Ok, we can't help this. We know what that comes from.

#7. Women are childish. I admit this is a very broad and vague statement, but isn't it true that it's mostly us to flood the internet with cute kittens? Not that being childish is necessarily a bad thing, actually it can be super cute. It's only a bit unsettling when as an adult you still live in Disney world and keep having fairy tale expectations about yourself, your partner, and the whole world. We should understand that a dolphin is a mammal capable of killing too, not a Disney character. That violence is inherent in life, not the fruit of evil meat-eaters who insist on having Sunday roast. But many women don't. Nowadays especially. Sheltered from the inconveniences of life, they spend their adult life posting pet mugs on social networks and serving as mouthpieces for the politically correct fairy tales of our time. These delicate snowflakes, whose hydrated buttocks jump from the chair in the office to the chair at Starbucks to the seat of their car to the sun bed at the spa to their designer sofa at home, find a special delight in imparting life lessons to working-class street gangstas like me. I know, there are many spoilt men too. But men have an instinct for the violent reality of life. We tend to be more Disney. Unless we are street gangstas, that is. 

#8. Women are greedy. Wait, wait, I know! Men are super greedy, just look at who controls the money in the world. But there's a difference: men see money as something they have to fight to take from other people; women see money as something that other people have to tribute to them spontaneously. It's related to #1: what a wonderful pretty creature I am -don't I deserve to be spoilt just because I exist? That's the attitude. I remember reading on one of those bdsm sites about a "mistress" looking for a "sub" assistant. She would expect him (or her!) to pay rent, pay tribute, provide own board and bills, work for her, drive her around, pay for petrol, be at her beck and call, and on and on. Is it funny? Nope, it's hilarious. 

#9. Women are passive. What do I mean by this? That we don't usually take initiative in anything, apart from shopping trips. Again not necessarily bad, just the way we function. I will simply notice that it's not passive people that make things happen. Nothing can work without taking some action, and this explains why nearly all the women groups I know of don't last long or don't do much. There is usually one or two leaders who strive and keep things going, until they grow fed up and the group disbands. But in noting this I am fully aware that passivity is in our nature and can only be reckoned with. I myself have to fight against it, and the motivation I find is that I don't want to end up with regrets for not having dared enough. Many women don't fight their passivity and, guess what, end up with regrets for not having dared enough. That serves them right.

#10. Women have less sense of humour. Ok I really shouldn't write about this, given that I can't take even myself seriously, but I would say I'm in the minority. You guys know that, if you can carelessly throw a joke at a male friend, you better ponder a dozen times whether and how to tell one to a woman. It must have to do with #2 and #3: women usually have such an idealised image of themselves and the world that you can't even alter that perfect scheme for fun. And also a bit with #5: since they so often disguise their nasty feelings, they tend to wonder whether your joke is actually a subtle way of making fun of them. Of course, with age it gets worse. Giggling teenagers are still able to enjoy spontaneous fun, but once they grow adult and their thirst of discovery is replaced with professional confidence, it's over. But -you may argue- didn't you say that women are childish? Yes! Interestingly enough, they manage to remain childish while losing their sense of humour. When they threaten you with legal action if you squash a bug, they are not joking: they really mean it. Their worldview is childish and unrealistic, but deadly serious. This is one of the reasons why I wouldn't want to serve a lady over about 25. Because it's nice to joke and to squash bugs without risking legal action.

#11. Women are easily offended, either by what you say or what you don't, by what you do or what you don't. If you say 9 nice things and one that is not so nice, that's the only one they will pick up. If you do 9 nice things and forget one, that's the only one they will notice. If you only say and do nice things, they will misinterpret at least one as not being nice. And if you try to clarify and explain the context, see #4. I know, it's a trap with no rational solution. That's why I don't blame you guys if you shy away from discussing with women. Every word you say will be used against you. Trouble is, also those you don't say. However, there are exceptions. Personally, I am not easily offended. And if you disagree, I'll never speak to you again.

Ok, I think by now you can't claim that I have an idealised image of refined young ladies. In fact, should some readers find the above funny list offensive, it would probably be them to lack a healthy dose of realism and self-irony. Oh, and just in case you wonder: I could make a much worse list about men.

But as you can see, I don't expect a dream-land of empathy and ethereal love from other girls. My dream is not about that. As you know, I'm not looking for a girl friend or a partner. I would just like to serve Miss, or Misses. 

What's the difference? How does this make my expectations more realistic? Now it gets fun.

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Part 4: Miss is missing out too!

As sad as it is, by now I'm pretty much giving for granted that I will be forever missing Miss. Maybe my inclination would have more easily found an outlet in older times, or maybe not. What is certain is that today not even the power of the internet seems capable of matching my aspiration with that of such an elusive Miss. Wait a minute: am I telling you that no refined ladies in their 20s seem intrigued by the idea of having a deferential girl do all their chores, cook the food they like, carry their bags, polish their shoes, fold their clothes, scent their pillow cases, dust their knick-knacks, serve them tea, comb their hair, deep-clean their oven, or assist them in any reasonable capacity just for the joy of interacting with them?? Yes.  I know, it's unbelievable. And yet.

It may be argued that perhaps many Misses would love that but they live with their parents and their parents don't need a domestic; or at a student hall, or with their boyfriends (which would imply serving a couple with likely sexual demands), or with flatmates who would never understand the need for a servant. And it's all true. However, we need to consider that London is a city with lots and lots of educated young ladies, and many of them don't get into a stable relationship until in their 30s. You are telling me that there are none in a position to share their place with a girl like me? Come on.  And when you consider that for the right people I would seriously consider relocation anywhere, it appears more and more likely that the problem may only be the lack of ways to get in touch. Here we go: in 2017 there are still people who, despite smartphones and the internet, don't manage to find each other. The web isn't all-powerful, after all.

And isn't it a pity? It's totally shameful, if you ask me. I really believe that a self-conscious Miss and a girl with my attitude would be a match made in Heaven. For me, it would mean fulfilment. I'm not saying this out of imagination, I know it for a fact. Because on the rare occasions when I got even slightly close to serving a young lady I liked, I felt like, like...  you know when you are so happy that you feel in peace and well-inclined towards everyone, even Jehovah's witnesses? Right, that kind of happiness. When you feel you finally got into the place where you are supposed to be, and in your life everything is perfect. I get so happy that nothing matters any more, I become peaceful, patient, I forgive everyone and can only see the sun shining. I mean, even in London. 

Conversely, you can easily imagine what it means for me to never being able to fulfil my inclination. There is a specific technical jargon for it: it sucks. My attitude towards Jehovah's witnesses radically changes. Sure, I can still live without my dream. I suppose it's like when you really want a child, you try every possible means to have one, and nothing works. You still live your life, even though the thing that would give it the purpose you've always wanted, the one you almost feel as if you were born for, is unattainable. It's preposterous, you think it really is. Such delicate feelings never put to use. You know for a fact that you would find fulfilment, that no doubt you would add something valuable to Miss's life, and... and it's all wasted. Preposterous. Just that. 

So, what can I say?  I know that I miss Miss, I don't know if Miss misses me, but I believe Miss is missing out too. Because there are ways of interacting with people who don't fit the category of "friendship" or "love" or "work", and where delicate, discreet human feelings can find their expression. To ignore, distrust, or dismiss such inclinations and feelings is to give up a valuable part of human experience, to miss out on opportunities, discoveries, emotions. It's like giving up opening a treasure trunk because others are already open, and hey, there's no clear lebel on it. In the same way as my deferential feelings open up a world to me, I believe they could be equally significant to a like-minded young lady. I obviously cannot be in the mind of the other side, but it seems to me that, for example, to find acceptance or even appreciation for traits that others may view as disagreeable (I'm thinking of all the times I hear complaints about snobbery, to name one) could be regarded as a gift. I don't know how frequent it is to get anyone's devotion outside of romantic relationships, that would seem to me as something of value too. Even for a pretty middle class lady who certainly gets a lot of attention and may sometimes wonder how much of it is genuine. And how about the fun of power exchange? I don't know, the appeals of such interaction are so many and obvious to me that it even feels redundant to talk about them. However, as in all things, you need a jeweller to get the value of a gem. Anybody else may just dismiss it as a piece of plastic. 

So here we go, my feelings eventually managed to get out. Nothing will change, I know, and yet it's nice to tell the people out there -Hey! Have you ever heard about this? You'd be suprised! There are also girls with such inclinations, in this big unforgiving world. They have feelings, beautiful feelings. Can you see the poetry in all this?- Whoever may be listening, in some corner of the world.

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Part 3: Why is Miss still missing?

As I see it, there are only 2 possible answers. Either:

- absolutely no young ladies feel the need for a female servant, or: - we simply have no way of getting in touch.

Which of the two? I wish I knew. However, the first answer seems implausible to me. For many different reasons. For example: I came across several ladies in their 30s and 40s who in fact would love a female servant, more out of personal fulfilment than actual necessity. While I can see why a younger lady will be more focused on studying and dating, I have no reason to believe that the desire of being served only originates after 30.  It's such a natural dynamic that it's hard for me to conceive that there are no young ladies who would be all too happy to use a girl with my submissive attitude.  I can't tell whether there are any who feel this need strongly, but I'm sure there are at least a few who would gladly use a servant if given the chance.

So it seems to me that the right answer is the second one: we just have no ways of getting in touch. I can see a few reasons for this. To start with, I'm pretty certain no young ladies ever actively look for a servant. Even if some of them may occasionally wish they had a special person at their beck and call, they likely dismiss the feeling as childish and unnecessary -or worse: politically incorrect!- and they probably think such a person would be impossible to find anyway: after all, one thing is to pay someone to mop your floors, another thing is to expect someone to be happy to serve and submit to you. So it's likely that they don't even try or, at most, they hire some anonymous live-out cleaner. This is until they have a baby, after which they might start employing nannies and aupairs and we are no longer talking about single young ladies but families. 

Another obvious fact that prevents us from getting in touch is that I never attended university and quite simply I'm just a foreign lonely little thing in big London. I can't think of any places or ways I may get to talk to elegant young ladies, who notoriously tend to stick to their own ilk. We may also add that Londoners aren't universally known for their openness and friendliness (to initiate conversation with a stranger here is akin to criminal offence) and to get to know new people in this city is a challenge for everyone, let alone for a street urchin who aims to meet the privileged. Paradoxically, one of the traits I love in self-conscious English people -their, so to speak, superciliousness- is also one that makes it harder to get in touch with them. 

If meeting in real life is a challenge, meeting online seems outright impossible. For such an aspiration there is simply nowhere to look or advertise: not the dating sites (as I'm clearly not looking for someone to kiss and have romantic dinners with), not the bdsm sites (I'm not looking for someone to tie me up and have kinky sex with), not the job sites (I'm looking for people, not for money), not the flatmate sites (I'm looking for people, not for a room!), not, not... oh gosh, just not. See, in dating sites, for example, the purpose of setting up a profile is obvious and everyone is looking for a partner. It's easy. But how do you look for a classy young lady who could potentially be intrigued by a power exchange? How do you know? You just look for people you think you like and take it from there? Alright, suppose you find one on a social network. You either try to make friends and see what happens, postponing any reference to your aspiration, or you are openly yourself from the start and see the reaction. I'm sure you see the problems with both approaches. We all know what Facebook or Tumblr are about: people keep in touch with friends, show off pictures, share stories, but rarely end up making new real life connections. There is a level of mistrust when a complete stranger sends you a message, we women in particular are cautious and self-protective, and up to a point understandably so. The more you climb the social ladder, the more this applies. Add to this the physical distance: it's all too well that a Canadian young lady loves Victorian tea parties, but are we actually ever going to organise one in person? And how about those intriguing profiles that don't even indicate location, gender, or age, and leave you just guessing? But let's be optimistic and suppose there is a lovely Tumblr page by a classy Londoner I can actually see. Will Miss agree or even have time to join in conversation with a stranger just because we love the same style of elegance?  Will Miss ever consider saying something beyond conventional chit chat? Will Miss believe and trust what I say? Well, you may make up your own mind on that, but I'll give you a hint: no way. And can you imagine if I was as reckless as to offer my service straight away? No matter how like-minded Miss might be, the web is so full of creeps that I couldn't possibly blame her for compulsively hitting the "block" button. Which leads me on to this very obvious point: online, you don't really know who people are. How could you tell the difference between a pervert, a fantasist, a freak, and a just-slightly deranged girl who has been a cleaner also for a titled family, is toiling in a kitchen and has the unusual aspiration of serving a young lady (or ladies) she likes? Yes, I know: maybe you can tell the difference by many small signs. Or maybe you don't bother.

In short: without real-life connections or opportunities to share time together, I'm finding it pretty impossible to get in touch with classy young ladies who obviously aren't even looking out for a girl like me. The means at my disposal don't seem to work, and frankly I wouldn't know what to try next.

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Part 2: A search with many approaches

Although I had similar feelings all along my childhood, it was only at about 17 that they became better defined. That was when I left my country to go and work abroad for my first time. However, to be aware of what I felt was one thing; to figure out how to go about it was another thing altogether. 

As my disposition was always directed at women and I had never been obsessed with boys in any respect, I had come to terms with the fact that I was likely a lesbian. And it seemed to me that the way to go was to mingle with other lesbians and eventually find one who had a dominant personality and would treat me like a servant. Now, this may sound ridiculously naive to someone who knows what being lesbian means, but please keep in mind I was too young to understand, I thought that having an interest for other girls would qualify me as such. I had to try. Clearly it didn't take me long to find out it wasn't a very good idea. Long story short: I understood what being a lesbian means, and that I am definitely not. Besides that, I've also noticed that most lesbians tend to feel towards social inequality the same grudge they feel for gender inequality, to the point that they abhor the idea of having servants. At any rate, I occasionally still attend lesbian meet-ups, in the (still naive) hope that a classy young lady may be inclined to this kind of Miss/servant relationship.

Alright. If sexual orientation couldn't be the decisive factor, maybe I had to focus on the desire to dominate? Dominance, and submission: that led me to check out the so called "kinky" community (it's a term I dislike but, hey, they use it). Even though everything from the names to the look of those bizarre websites was at odds with the elegance and class I love, curiousity prevailed. And here we go: my hopeless naivety was put to shame again. Everything was in there BUT classy young ladies. Some no doubt pretend to be, but if so why do they need to beg for money online? Wanting to find out how those "kinky" folks were in real life, I tried some munches and did meet a few other girls. Unfortunately what I have gathered is not very encouraging: 1) Most want to be sexually dominated by men. 2) A tiny few want to sexually dominate girls. 3) Maybe some latex-clad pro "domme" needs  someone to clean her "studio" -eek!!   Zero elegant young ladies who fancy a non-sexual servant. Mind you, I don't mean who look for one, just fancy one. Who have that classy mindset and fantasise over that power exchange. None. I never got replies online either. But it makes sense: any young ladies with conservative tastes would likely feel as uncomfortable on those sites as I do. 

Back to the drawing board. No lesbians, no "kinky" types... what else could I focus on to find a kindred spirit? A love for elegance, granted, but that's very generic. How about Victorian elegance in particular? Of course: Victorian enthusiasts and such! So I joined online groups about lovely bustle dresses, tea parties and the like. I was a bit surprised to find out that most of them are not in England, but in the US. That was a major problem because it definitely feels awkward to contact someone on the other side of the pond just because we both like frills and laces. Besides, I'm not a seamstress or soap maker, there's only so much advice we can exchange on those specific interests. I still made contact, though mostly it was with more mature ladies. I also went to a couple of Victorian festivals here in the UK which I enjoyed immensely, despite the fact that there were so few young ladies that, um, I can't recall any. (sigh) Again, nothing.

I thought that maybe reaching out to a generic larger audience might be better. How about Craigslist? There are sections for pretty much everything on there, and it's very popular. I know, you are right: my naivety was really incurable. As soon as you mention words like "serve" on Craigslist... um, sorry, as soon as you actually mention the word "girl", hordes of men feel authorised to send any sorts of pictures and proposals that range from seriously disheartening to outright illegal. Filtering all that out would be worthwhile if only there was one genuine young lady every 100 messages, but there simply isn't. Both when you post and when you reply to posts. The personals section is absolutely fake paradise. I tried to submit a polite post on the discussions sections and it was.. guess what? Flagged and removed! For some reason, every profanity is allowed, but a civilised enquiry on what other people think about my dream is flagged and removed. I asked the support why and was of course ignored. Once written off Craigslist from the list of websites I will ever use again, I posted the same on Reddit -zero replies- and on Femalefirst, where it only got a few not very helpful responses.

Apparently, forums weren't the way to go either. At this point I thought I should get more practical. Rather than looking for a matching desire, why not looking for a shared circumstance? Granted, I might not meet any like-minded, still I could at least experience something that looks remotely as serving Miss. So: thinking of shared circumstances... shared... like a shared house! Oh, I'm an expert on that. I've shared so many flats and houses in this city. Perhaps I might find the right flatmates to buddy up, and maybe even offer to keep the house clean for them in exchange for a discount on rent! Although no flatmate would likely have any interest in bossying about a servant, it could still be an ideal living arrangement. Yeah, right. There is a only a minor problem with that: the average London shared house is, to put it mildly, a mess. The higher the rent, the more suitable the place for an elegant young lady; at that point though the rent is too high for me to possibly afford it, even in the extremely unlikely event that the flatmates agree on a discount in exchange for cleanings.  Which simply means that I'm bound to share only with other poor girls like me. On top of that, I later learnt that students don't pay countil tax, which means they only want to share with other students. Sigh. Nice try.

Ok, I still didn't give up. I thought: if I cannot share a nice house with uni students or young professionals, is there another place where I can live and work for them? Why, students halls! Right, I checked them out. They are usually mixed. There are only two or three upscale female houses, mainly run by nuns, and they have no live-in domestic staff. And please keep in mind, working as a live-in cleaner at a student hall would mean to totally give up the idea of any dedicated relationship with any particular young ladies. The relationship would be a cold work contract between me and the institution, with no accounts for inclinations, feelings, personal choices, anything human. It would simply be about selling my muscular effort in exchange for board and lodging and a little money: maybe not the most fulfilling way of living out my deferential feelings for Misses? Perhaps, just perhaps, it might be a bit better if I could work for some sorority in the US. Too bad I can't: I once spoke on the phone with one of the staff and he explained to me that they need to only employ locals, for some tax reason I don't remember. So I don't need to wonder whether working at a student house could be a nice solution for me: there's simply no way I can do that. 

The other obvious venues for a live-in housekeeper, that is families and hotels, have clearly little to do with serving one or more young ladies, but I still had a go. In fact it was one of the first things I tried, along with the more personal search. Unsurprisingly, I soon found out that domestic placement agencies are only great if you are happy with any job that pays good money; if your focus is the person you want to work for, be prepared to be mistaken for an alien -what? you don't care for salary and pay? You want to know your employers' gender? Even their age? Why? -and on and on. But it's not just a matter of getting through impervious recruiters; there simply aren't requests from young ladies anywhere. You have nannies for babies, aupairs for kids, housekeepers for adults and carers for the elderly. The young-adult age brake seems to be the only one that doesn't require any help. That makes sense of course but I mean, not even one young lady in her early 20s who wants a cleaner for her flat? 

As you see, even after several years I haven't figured out yet how to go about my inclination, in spite of all the things I've tried and all the different approaches I've taken. Quite simply, it seems there is NO way to serve Miss. And yet, in my mind my ambition is so simple, so natural, so relatively easy to put into practice, that my total lack of success still amazes me. To me the issue is quite simple: in the same way as I feel inclined to serve elegant girls, there must be some elegant young ladies who are inclined to use a deferential servant, right? There is nothing new about it, it's basic human feelings and age-old practice. It's even the material of famous novels. Why have all my approaches failed?

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Part 1: About Miss, and about my feelings

When the fruit grows bigger and bigger and isn't picked, it often falls on the ground. Today, on the eve of Easter day, something similar must have happened to some of my feelings: tired of living only inside my mind, they are suddenly claiming an outlet, they want to talk. The fear of being misunderstood, the awareness that they will never find fulfilment anyway isn't stopping them. In fact they are telling me: for the very reason that we are nearly impossible to fulfil, it's only fair that you let us at least talk. And why shouldn't I? After all they seem to me too beautiful, too unusual to just keep them glow inside me without somehow letting them out.

So... what are they all about? MissingMiss: a Miss is missing, or I miss a Miss, as you prefer. I could have also named the blog "MissingMisses", as this aspiration of mine doesn't necessarily involve an exclusive interaction with one particular Miss. 

But let me start with a bit of background.  I love, truly love, everything to do with classic elegance. Old world, tradition, aristocracy, with a particular passion for British posh and the Victorian age. England and especially old London, with its glorious Victorian mansions and squares, is my dream place. Think Harrods. Sloane square. Hyde Park's Flower Garden. Those leafy stretches of the Thames that haven't been ruined by modern glass buildings yet. The hotels with plush chaise longues, grand window treatments, and livery-clad attendants unloading leather luggage. Plummed accents. Elegant manners. Ascot hats. The Royal Albert Hall and the world of classical music. When I listen to Chopin, I melt. When I stroll on a spring day in one of London's beautiful parks, I half expect to see frilly dresses and parasols like in a painting by Renoir. Then all I see is jeans and t-shirts, and I think it's a pity. You get the picture: I'm a romantic old-fashioned soul, even though, yes, I wear cheap jeans and t-shirts myself.  

Alright, so I love classic elegance. Which isn't particularly unusual. Perhaps it's a bit more surprising, though, that I like elegant women. I don't look at other girls like we females so often do: with envy, suspicion, to copy their style and evaluate the threat. I rather look at elegant girls in the same way as I stare at a fascinating painting, admiring their grace and never getting tired of it. A preppy outfit, a cute bow clip, an educated accent will get me enthralled. A poised young lady who plays the piano or the harp, who engages in public debate or in equestrian competitions. How could I not admire the education, the elegance,  the unspeakable aesthetic appeal? It's at the same time the attraction to the similar, because we share the same taste for all things classy, and to the opposite, because we belong to the antipodes of society: the old-money middle class on their side, and the underclass of European immigrants on mine, whose hard work in a kitchen only affords a freezing room in lousy flatshare and the bus fare to go to work. Two kinds of lives so different that I suppose we can hardly wear each other's shoes. What could they know about orphanage, foster "care", homeless shelters, working in restaurants, families, school kitchens, having lived in loneliness and met zillions of different people from all walks of life in 4 countries and 2 continents? And what could I know about country estates, family Christmas, boarding schools, horse-riding in Hyde Park, dinner in Piccadilly, concerts at the Albert Hall, international holidays, and the feeling of friendships and relationships that develop over the years, of people that actually notice if you are alive or not? For one like me, who as a teen was lucky when I could borrow a bicycle while all my classmates had a moped, it's the fascination of another planet. When I walk by the shops and patisseries in Knightsbridge, I truly feel like a street urchin in a Dickens story. 

However, believe it or not, I don't mind being poor. Quite the opposite, by the age of 17 I had already accepted my condition and made a decision: "do I have to be a cinderella? Fine, I'll be one in my own way."  I don't envy classy and privileged young ladies. I like and admire them. More: for some of them I feel such a sense of deference that I can't help but picturing myself as their devoted servant, carrying their shopping bags, ironing their shirts and preparing their picnic lunch. "As you wish, Miss. Would you like a tea, Miss?" How many times I fantasise about interacting with them like that. There is such a sweetness, a beauty, a sense of fulfilment in serving someone you like, in accepting the complete inequality of circumstances and that you are there for them and to make their life as convenient as possible. So here we go, that's my inclination in life: serving Miss.   But we are talking about a feeling: deference, desire to serve and submit to a classy young lady. Or ladies. How to express, to find an outlet for such a wonderful, heart-warming inclination? How to put it into practice in my daily life? This is what I have been trying to understand.

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