More Thoughts on Submission

Real life dealt us all a horrifying blow Friday.  There have been a lot of prayers, and tears and there will be more.  It makes me feel like nothing else is worth discussing.  But at the same time we have to step away from the television.  Watching coverage for hours at a time can’t be good for us either.  Maybe our discussions out here aren’t earth shattering in their importance, but if they can distract us for a bit maybe that's of some value.  I wrote this last week so I’m going to go ahead and post it.  We are all thinking of everyone in Newtown and I know we’ll all continue praying, but I need the distraction, maybe you do to.

First I want to thank every for the birthday wishes. I had a nice relaxing day, even if I did turn another year older. 

The other day I read this post over at Lillie and Ian’s place. And yesterday I was happy to read that they worked together to come up with a fair solution that they could both agree on.  But I want to tell you what I have been thinking about the situation.  At the first reading I was a little amused.  Cassie has a story something like this over at her site.  The similarities made me smile in passing, but as I read the comments of some of our friends I began taking it more seriously.  So seriously that I never even left a comment, because I didn’t know what to say.  And since then I can’t get it out of my head.  I am caught between, “You’re a grown women, wear what you want” and “If you truly gave him the gift of your submission, and this is important to him, don’t wear the suit.”

Submission fascinates me.  I have spent all my life wanting (or thinking I wanted) to be submissive.  I fantasied about a man who care enough about me to want to control me, care for me, watch over me and discipline me if I fell short of his expectations. Come to think of it, I fantasied way more about his reaction to my defiance than I did about my submission.  (Guess you can see where Cassie comes from.) After 23 years of marriage I told Nick about the spanking fantasies, but was rather vague about the submission part. When he finally understood that I was offering him the gift of my submission his reply, in essence, was, “No thanks.”

He was kind about it, but he made it clear that it wasn’t something he wanted.  Much like the red silk shirt my sister bought him one Christmas (hadn’t she ever met my husband?)  Nick being a real dom just wasn’t a fit or style he was interested in.  I pushed it for a while sometimes pouted and withdrew because he wouldn’t take control.  However, as the years have gone by, I’ve come to realize that Nick made the right choice for us.  I still wonder if I would have been able to be submissive.  I know I still fantasies about it at times, but it should probably just stay right there in my fantasies.

So I returned to the question of the bathing suit.  For one things Nick would not care how many men ogled me.  I doubt he would notice if they were lined up drooling because he knows I’m coming home with him. Period.  I mean no disrespect to Lillie or Ian here; I know that they know the same thing about each other.  But Nick just wouldn’t care unless, of course, someone was bothering me.

So I asked him Lillie’s bathing suit question, “If I lost weight and bought a sexy bathing suit, would you object?”

He looked a little puzzled and laughed, “You planning on wearing it to school?”

“No I told him,” not falling into his teasing. “Just the beach.  Would you mind?”

He still looked a little puzzled then said pretty much exactly what I knew he’d say, “If you picked it out and thought it was appropriate I’m assuming it would be, so I wouldn’t care.”

In my head I took it a step further, suppose I did come home with a small suit and Nick said something like, “Hmm… that’s a little more revealing than you usually wear.  You sure you want to go out in that?”

I imagine I wouldn’t wear it for two reasons.  One, since he rarely would notice or comment on such a thing, then it really might be too revealing.  And two, if I thought it would make him uncomfortable I wouldn’t wear it.  Not because he told me I couldn’t but just because that’s how we are with each other.

Nick and I have been together nearly thirty years.  We were both very independent when we married.  I’d lived on my own for six years, for him it had been thirteen years.  Neither of us is submissive to the other, we are still independent people, yet we depend on each other.  We’re just us and we’re content.