I was getting a drink with a friend because, y’know, I need an infinite amount of male attention. I was using the opportunity to bitch about my dating life, and I guess along the course of the conversation I dropped the off handed comment that, “I’m a crazy bitch.” I generally don’t condone negative self talk because it’s unattractive and creates a negative, self reinforcing feedback loop in my self esteem. But I’ve been in a self deprecating mood ever since my dad died, and also that has caused me to drink a bit more than usual, so I’ve been slipping up on several fronts. I make it a point to only say nice things to myself and about myself. I don’t even like to say “I’m going to hell!” because I think this will all pan out better if I convince all of us I’m going to heaven. I also never refer to myself as fat (but sometimes I gain weight or am bloated), ugly (but sometimes I have bad skin days), stupid (but sometimes I do or say dumb things), or any other adjective that demeans my sense of self worth because I am free to choose either high self esteem or low self esteem, so why not choose high self esteem? They’re both free, but the low self esteem costs more.
However, my drinking companion picked up on my slip up. “Why do you think you’re crazy?” he asked me.
“Well, my dad just died, so I’ve been in a weird place, and also I feel like it’s easier for other people to contextualize me if I say that I’m crazy,” I mumbled, trying to foist some intelligible bullshit out of my drunk mouth. I didn’t really want to think about all the things that make me feel unstable or insecure or different from all the other normal people I see parading around all normal in my life.
“Look me in the eyes when you’re talking to me.”
Oh. Fuck. Called out! I realized: oh, shit, this is hard, and also unexpected, and also almost uncomfortably intimate for a dive bar on a Friday night, but – fuck it!
“I want you to be comfortable being vulnerable with me.”
Oh! Fuck! Yeah! Damn, an exercise in wanton and transgressive vulnerability? Sign me up!
As I sat there, looking him in the eyes and articulating why I said that in particular, I was struck by the intensity of saying something you don’t want to admit in the most honest way possible. How often to do we really make eye contact with the people we talk to? It is, admittedly, incredibly sexy.
And such a bold power move. I was not expecting that. As an overly self assured, somewhat cocky and intermittently narcissistic woman, I’m used to steam rolling people. I try not to be an asshole about it, but I know how to guide a conversation to the place where I want it to go. I can’t remember the last time someone took the control of a conversation away from me entirely. There was something about it that felt thrilling, intimidating, even.
I really love and very much crave good d/s play. There’s something about the tender forcefulness that really does it for me. I had been really excited to see Gangsta Boo because we had such a great d/s relationship, but he went over the line of “loving domination” into the territory of “just straight up abusive,” so I had to pass on that one.
As I sat there, looking in his eyes and talking to him, I realized: damn, he kinda scares the shit out of me, but also how can I get more of this all the time? I think I could get used to this.