Personal History

Hello, 54.

Another birthday, another year older.

My birthdays anymore are either ones when I work, or I have the day off and I don’t necessarily do much of anything. Certainly nothing like a party here at Casa Leathers, or any sort of organized celebration. Another milestone achieved really. I may get a present, I may not, it depends a lot on whether I mention there’s something I’ve desired, and just haven’t gotten around to purchasing for myself, and the wife gets it for me (except for a motorcycle….not going to get one of those. At least life-sized).

This year, we’ve been needing a new wheelbarrow and we’ve been off and on shopping for it both online and locally. It has needed to have certain aspects to make it good for both of us (not too big, not too small, dual wheels and so on) and not cost $500. Believe it or not, we’ve spent over two weeks looking at prospects and dismissing most of them as either being too expensive, too cheaply made too many bad reviews, or a combination of those. Home Depot, Lowes, Amazon, all have nice offerings, but none have really checked off all the correct aspects.

The wife suggested the local Tractor Supply as an option. I went there after work one day and scoured the store, but didn’t find any! How odd. I left without checking with a salesperson (should have known better) and came home to report my findings. Going to the online store presence, I discovered apparently in their ‘stock’ it was listed they had several. So we decided to go back on the ‘day’ of my birthday, to check it out further, instead of ordering one online and having it shipped specially to the store.

Parking outside, we headed towards the door, but my wife stopped us to look at something on the wall, and sure enough, there was the beastie that had eluded me so successfully yet days before. But it was HUUUUGE! Way too big for our purposes. Heading inside, I made my way to the Customer Service counter and spoke to the employee there, informing her that we were in the market, but the one she had outside was too big, and did they having anything similar, but slightly smaller? Looking through her computer terminal, she determined that indeed she did, and someone was in the back assembling them.

Horrors! An assembled ‘barrow won’t fit in the new Murano. Would be way too big. Is it possible to get one unassembled? Sure enough, it was. Although admittedly it surprised her that I asked, most of her customers wanted theirs in one piece, not forty. Up stepped the wife (once I corralled her from the far side of the store) and paid for my present. Transported it out to the vehicle, loaded it up and headed for the ice cream stand/greenhouse to celebrate our victory!

I managed a birthday present and ice cream on the same day! I’d say that was a pretty good score. And I had a project to complete when I got home. Which I did. The wheelbarrow is all together, and sitting in the backyard now…with no pieces missing!

I done good. Happy 54th, Leathers.

Inhibitions

As I started my college career in the fall of 1983, the drinking age was still 18. I remember vividly the drunken parties in the dorm that I was in, the freshman football players that managed to destroy a wall between two rooms in order to make a ‘double’ room (and their parents eventually being charged for the damage) while having a ‘load on’ and so on. Beer, being cheaper was usually the alcoholic beverage of choice and it flowed pretty freely at the college. Two years later when the drinking age was raised to 21 (still get a little steamed about that, since it was one day I was able to drink if I wished, the next I had to wait another 17 months) and things changed accordingly. There was still what became ‘illegal’ drinking, but for the most part (unless it was inescapably obvious) the college looked the other way and didn’t overly police the practice.

Naturally, that has almost nothing to do with the topic above. Just laying a little groundwork and background, if you will. I was talking to my slave the other night on the phone before bed, and during the course of the evening, she’d been drinking some wine, a little too much apparently. It managed to loosen her tongue and brain a bit and she became very talkative about a great many things. And of course, as I expected, come the morning and the next time I spoke to her, she didn’t have a recollection of what she said. But I do. Now, I know it was probably ‘the liquor talking‘ for the most part, but when one’s inhibitions are let down, or tamped down either by some force or another, what is said or expressed can sometimes be the whole truth, and it can give a pretty good idea of what that person is thinking and feeling under the surface, or under normal circumstances they would keep to themselves.

Of course, I’m not saying all of this to shame her, as evidenced by the fact that I’m not letting on what she said. That’s exclusively between her and me, and there’s no force on this planet (or any other) that will change it, so don’t ask. I’m merely making an observation here, and relating it for my own recollection, as well as it was interesting to me. Interesting, so I write about it.

And as a caveat. Be careful when you drink. What you say, may very well be to someone who is listening. And remembering.

Time and Experience

I was thinking the other day, since I don’t have an active partner to play with, at least not here.  Still.  But as I said, I was thinking about all the time that I’ve spent in the scene, and how much of it I’ve actively participated.  When I say ‘participated’, I mean actually being there, with someone else, playing interactively.  Not online, not in a chat room, or on the phone, hot texting one another, or writing elaborate paper mails to one another, then waiting for them to read it several or many days later.  Then waiting again for the return letter and so on.

Actual ‘in the trenches‘ play time.  Where you get your hands dirty (as well as some other things).  Doing a little figuring, I came up with a rather sobering total.  And it wasn’t pretty.  By my estimation I’ve been part of the BDSM scene since I was about 18.  I’m not going to go into the nuts and bolts of that, because it’s not a good conversation to have here.  So let’s say 18 for the sake of argument, or who else might be reading things.  I’m now almost 54.  So that’s 36 years between the two.  In all of that time, what I would term my active experience comes out to a little less than 6 months.   6 MONTHS.  Told you it was a sobering thought.

Even now it makes me wonder how all of that time managed to skate past.  Though I know the old adages; Life gets in the way, finances don’t always come together, and the most often one, there’s no one to play with.  So you just sit back on your heels, live your ‘other’ life, and try to keep your hand in the game, by watching others enjoy themselves, going to munches, networking, doing a little negotiating, perhaps attend a play party here and there, but me, not being the voyeuristic type, doing that is just maddening, because I’m not a good watcher.  And yes, as I’ve mentioned time and again, building up a nice toy collection.  That now as before gathers dust in a couple bedrooms in my house.

Just throwing this out here, since it’s been hanging around in my head for a few days now and I need it out in the open.  Thanks for listening/reading.

“Good morning, mine”

Communication is one of the main linchpins to any relationship, that goes without saying.  Keeping the lines open is necessary for forging ahead with anything else that you do, for if you don’t, how can you keep the other apprised of things that are happening in your head, much less what can be possible elsewhere in the relationship?  To that end, every morning, I write a message to my slave.

With all my other D/s relationships, it started out pretty differently.  They were required to write to me, and during the course of the day I would either respond in email or we’d meet up on IRC or whatever other method we were using to keep in touch.  I’ve never really had a BDSM relationship with someone who lived here with me long-term, at least no one that was directly involved in my orbit.  (We’ve had submissives living with us in our home, but they weren’t my subs, they belonged to my wife)  Certainly I would have preferred to do it the other way, but circumstances just never matched up so that the subs/bottoms I found were local to me.  Such is the way of my world, y’know?

As I’ve mentioned before, my current slave/pet lives several states away from me.  We’ve been trying to figure out how to get together more often, but the old bugaboo of money keeps getting in the way.  So in the interim, we’re relegated to phone calls, texts, emails and the like to keep in touch.  I start out every morning with a message to her (well, it’s usually mornings), and she responds when she has the chance. Lunchtime (if I’m at work) I send her another message, and again she responds (as time permits).  After work, the same thing and so on.  Days off for me are a little more hit and miss, since I’m not rising at the same time as I would be for work, I get busy with this and that, and often (to her chagrin) I forget to post the message in a timely manner.   Nobody’s perfect, and she understands that.  I do what I can, when I can.

But, a little bit of something from someone who you’re connected with helps.  That’s pretty much my message here.  Try not to get despondent if its been many months since the last time you’ve laid eyes on one another.  Try to be upbeat.  If you can, send something along to them (or they to you) to remind them of yourself or vice versa.  I read on another blog about how a Dominant sent his submissive a bottle of his favorite cologne, so his submissive could spritz it on a shirt and sleep with it, or have something that smells like him around so she could be closer in a manner of speaking.  I thought that was a fantastic idea and I implemented it.  Now granted I don’t normally wear cologne, but there’s a certain fragrance that I’ve always preferred.  Along with some other items, I bundled the bottle I had in my bathroom cabinet up and sent it to my girl.  She’s been using it (sparingly I hope!) in the manner to which I described, and it helps melt the miles a bit.  She also has clothing of mine, as well as a flogger I presented her early on in our relationship.

Finally, I have a counter at the bottom of this blog.  It tells me (and anyone else that cares to look) how long its been since the last time I’ve seen her.  In person. 20180629_102821.jpgI remember vividly where I was, and how long it took for her vehicle to vanish from my sight.  I want to see her again, and could have if I chose to be the one to afford the trip, but we’ve agreed I’m not doing that anymore.  A relationship is a two-way street.  Both sides have to support it in all ways.  So it may take a little longer, but I’ll see her again.