He said it in writing, when he wasn’t in reach, wasn’t naked, and wasn’t under my thumb.
I don’t recall the conversation, but in it, he suggested that after we split and after some time had passed, he might seek out kinky women, maybe a submissive, but not another dominant. He said no other dominant could compare.
I smiled at his sweetness, my heart lurching with sadness and leaping with joy (I’m beginning to suspect the feeling is the same regardless of the impetus or emotion that evokes it.)
But still, I never quite believe him when he says such things. I could be incomparable, but not with the distance between us, and not with the specter of our transience looming large.
You don’t know how you’ll feel after we split.
Though my objection may have seemed altruistic, it wasn’t. My objection wasn’t about his limiting his future happiness. It was about his articulation of something I don’t think either of us believes. It’s not that he’s being dishonest or telling me what I might want to hear, it’s just that he says things without thinking, and I’m incapable of hearing without thinking.
There won’t be any after you.
He said it again last weekend while we were winding down in bed.
The right thing to do would have been to respond as I had done before, but this time, the words wouldn’t come. When he’s mine, when he’s naked and curled in my arms with his head on my breast, I can’t bring myself to wish him happiness in some future life without me. I couldn’t will my mouth to form the words.
It’s not that I don’t want him to be happy. I do. I really, really do. (I’ve gambled so much of my own happiness on his happiness that the degree to which I’m bluffing matters less than the fact I made the call.)
I want him to be happy, but I also want to make my mark. I want to be so much, so good, so perfect (for him) that my presence makes an impression and my absence leaves a void.
Some part of me hopes that no one will ever love him as much as I do. I’m not even sure it’s possible. I can’t imagine he’ll find someone who will love him harder, wants him more, or is as hungry for him as I am.
The selfless part of me hopes he will.
The selfish part of me isn’t so sure.
thumbnail image, “808s and Heartbreak” © 2010 by Matthew McManus, Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic (CC BY 2.0)