I hadn’t expected to meet my Dominant, Mr A. I was going for a blind date and thought nothing else of it beyond the usual ‘What shall I wear?’. Having had a long, negative run with men in recent years, I was so very unbothered by the idea of a date and my chances of meeting anyone of interest that I went in jeans, flat shoes and barely a scrap of make up. It would take someone special to make me want to care again for a while…exceptional good looks, or a perfect personality match. Casual sex was out of the question too. I’d have my fill of that and it bored me to tears.
We began to talk and laugh over coffee, and whilst I struggled to keep my thoughts on track when he took off his Raybans and revealed the most beautiful grey/blue eyes I have ever seen, I simply assumed he was a handsome, successful young man who was just out for what he could get. This assumption of him turned me off and that was that, although our shared amusement at making a women want to get up and leave her neighbouring table due to our conversation topic was a great moment. “He’s a conversational freak like me”, i thought, “enjoying the bizarre and extending dark silliness to beyond the normal realms of the social norm.”
I went back to his to wait for my taxi as it was raining. He went out to the kitchen for a moment and when he came back I was sat on a rather funny little rocking chair which had a furry cover. “I knew you would sit there, it’s quirky like you” he said. Something sparked in me. So he had recognised something within my personality…at this early stage I had found it rare that a man would pick up on something personal (and entirely true) like that. The most I’d get was “Your legs/bum looked amazing tonight.” Yeah, thanks for that! I then went and looked at the photos on the shelves, bending over slightly as I did so.
“Stay just like that”, he said,” that is a perfect image”.
How gorgeous of him – and that should have been the first sign of things to come.
In fact the next occurrence I picked up on which demonstrated Mr A to be different from the rest was the text I received from him moments after I had left and before I had even got home, in the taxi which he had paid for. No game playing, no making me wait 24 hours – just honest, “I really enjoyed meeting you today – I would like to see you again.x” Hmmm, charming and thoughtful…and just a little too smooth? I agreed to meet him again the following week but kept the others dates I had planned in the diary too. Despite my reservations about Mr A, there was something about those eyes which was too special to let go without a second date at least.
As with any 21st century courtship, we texted back and forth that night, and after a chance misunderstanding on my part over his use of the word ‘spanking’, (how one can use that word and misunderstand its representation is beyond me but apparently I did), it obviously touched a nerve in both of us as suddenly a deeper understanding of one another was born. He explained that whilst I had read the sentence wrong and it had not been intended the way I understood it, he was in fact a ‘Dominant character’ and if that was too much for me then I should bow out now. Not a chance. A freudian slip it may have been, but I had misread that sentence because that is simply how my mind works…
and with his revelation in place, our conversation grew in depth and in intensity.
We chatted late in to the night, feeling out the situation and discovering just how alike we really felt about the prospect of an s/D relationship and all of its ups and downs. It was overwhelming but so refreshing for me to be able to discuss something which I had long desired but had never been able to fully express to anyone beyond the occasional tie-up bedroom play with past boyfriends. He was worried that I was reacting to the literary worlds’ current Dominant character du jour, Mr Grey and I told him I have no time for a Dom who is only on paper – I want the real thing.
I explained that I don’t believe, as is often the perception, that s/D is purely about sexual gratification. When people hear the term Submissive, the classic helpless, bound female image springs to mind. Whilst this element appealed, it certainly was not the crux of my interest as I had held a ‘Sub’s’ mindset for as long as I could recall meaning it stemmed from an entirely non sexual place.
Being an intensely independent woman, running my own business whilst being a mother of one, I rarely allow anyone to take care of me or tell me what to do, instead taking that role with others. The idea that I had found someone whose sometimes gentle, sometimes punishing hands, I could imagine placing myself in, was exciting in every way. Mr A exuded confidence in the way he discussed his lifestyle choices, and I felt inexperienced by comparison, but I knew that by speaking from the heart, of my submissive instincts, that it wouldn’t matter how much or how little sub experience I had had – he would realise that I am one, albeit an untamed one. It was hard to end the conversation, but by 1 a.m we were waning so we brought our second date forward by seven days to the very next day.