This, it turns out, is the third time I’m writing a post with this title.
The first time, it was a short post, just an explanation of how I think of the process of getting to know a woman, getting to know her limits, and ending with this line, which I like: “And I want to grab you by your ankles and dangle you over those limits, while I fuck your face.”
The second time, it was a more detailed explanation, not just of how I think about the process of getting to know a woman, but of how I go about it.
This time, I thought I’d simply cut and paste from a Tinder message I sent the other day. It felt, as I typed it, like a somewhat succinct summary of an important aspect not just of how I get to know a person, but of how my particular species of dominance works, and how I expect to be interacted with:
“I am capable of being enormously demanding. But I’m extraordinarily responsive. If I ask for something, I’d like you to tell me when, reasonably, I may expect it. And then to deliver as promised. If that becomes impossible, I’ll be extremely forgiving and understanding, as long as you communicate promptly, and respectfully. I will tend to reward good performance with more requests. So the more you give me, the more I’ll ask for. I trust you’ll manage my requests with an understanding of all this. And, of course, if I ever ask for anything that makes you intolerably uncomfortable, I would be disappointed if you didn’t tell me.”
If you’ve interacted with me at all in a dom-ish sub-ish way, you may have read words similar to this, or, in any event, you’ve come to understand that this is how I am.
Jenn, whose clit I recently licked for about 18 minutes, has struggled to understand this. And I confess – over the years, I’ve run into a number of women who struggle with this. I think – and Jenn can feel free to tell me I misunderstand – but I think that Jenn experienced my requests as overwhelming, each one representing yet another in a string of demands, the accumulation of which was simply un-meet-able. We came asunder over this, and she ghosted on me, less than 24 hours after I’d been buried in her thighs. I think I’m so easy to please: I mean all that I wrote in that paragraph, and the particular woman with whom I was corresponding replied, in response to my very simple request (I asked her to give me a few examples of what turned her on), that she understood entirely, and that she’d give me what I ask in the next week.
See, that’s fine. While it’s of course true that I want what I want when I want it, it’s also true that I have total respect for anyone with whom I interact sexually. And all that I demand – really, all that I demand – is this one thing. Respectfully interact with me, and honor your word. If you say you’ll get me something and you don’t, and you don’t acknowledge that, the shelf life of our relationship is short. If you give me what I ask when you say you will, the sky is the limit. (And, you may be certain, I will ask to see your thighs. Because I fucking love thighs.)