Tag Archives: drama

Who’s On Top

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Hello, lovely internet world. Yes, I still live. I’ve..been through quite a bit since my silence, and I will get to what I can, when I can as time goes on..but I am back. I hope some of you are still around, and willing to continue to read my thoughts as my journey continues.

I am very much active still in the local San Francisco scene. James is still in my life, though we are..complicated (as if we have ever been simple). I remain unowned and uncollared for now, but I am far from single.

For now, I’m not talking about James. This entry will be about another partner that I’ve mentioned before, Chris.

Chris and I have had our bumps, but even through me being released we’ve managed to stay together. For a time I was..terrified. There are still times I feel unbalanced, not having a primary and remaining in a relationship that would be considered a ‘secondary’ relationship. Right now, officially, I belong to no one. Emotionally is a different story..but I’m digressing.

It was about a month ago that Chris and I hit our biggest bump in the road. One of the reasons being with him was always so easy was that I felt like I was on an even playing field with all of my met amours. For the longest time, Chris preached that he did not believe in hierarchy, and that he did not have primaries and secondaries. There was no worry about who came first. We were all even, and would be what we would be.

For the most part, I get along with my met amours. Some I want to play with. Some I enjoy a sort of sibling relationship with… there’s a kindred spirit feel. I work to maintain these relationships because these people matter to me, and matter to a man that I call my Sir. I enjoy the family feel that I have with the majority of my partner’s partners. There is..one, however, that does not fit this mold.

Emily, my partner’s parter, is a force of nature. She is a polarizing, creative soul that has frustrated the majority of us from the very beginning. She wants nothing to do with any of us, and that (for the most part) is okay. It’s her personal choice and not something any of us can really impact. Not even Chris can. Their relationship has been..turbulent to say the least, and the only time the lack of contact with Emily has bothered me has been when I’ve had nights with Chris a day or two after a drama-filled visit and my partner was visibly distraught. She has effected him emotionally unlike any of the others; the highs with her are the highest for him and the lows are the lowest.

I suppose, knowing this, I should been able to predict what would happen next. I got a call from my partner informing me that he was going to choose a primary, and that it was Emily.

There were many emotions associated with this decision..still are.. I was so angry at first. I felt betrayed. Hurt. Confused why he never communicated any of this to me. We had just had a very intense, connection-filled camp at Dark Odyssey, and during all of it he could have easily opened up to me. Out of all of his partners, I was one that understood hierarchy and the complicated emotions often associated with it. I felt like I had been slapped, backhanded. Not only had he not trusted me enough to open up and tell me what was going on, he had chosen for his primary the most unstable relationship in his life. One that I had seen almost destroy him emotionally multiple times.

Slowly, the other partners have adjusted. I have as well. I am now the closest partner locally that he has. Emily is next, at a couple hours away from him to my half-hour. I see the little changes the most..and some have them have hurt me.

This world of hierarchy is wildly new to Chris, and I know that… and I’ve watched him struggle with navigating it. For the majority of the summer Emily got all of his weekends, which cut off most of the time he could have spent with two partners that were long distance and only are able to see him about once a month each. The bit of time I got with him was almost always good, especially when we were out and away from his place.

The last couple visits to his home, however, have felt like I was on a day with not just him, but with Emily too. The first real blow came when I walked in one day to see an art piece Emily had made up on his wall. Chris has artwork all over his apartment, including mine, and Emily’s was a rather big piece on a wall that had nothing yet besides it. It framed the wall funny, and I mentioned to Chris just shifting the piece over a tad.

He agreed, but only after going to his front door to look at it on the wall. “I want it to be the first thing I see when I walk through the door,” he said. I winced at the words and looked over at the piece I had given him; a painting I had done a lifetime ago that had meant the world to me. I never thought I could give it to anyone. I let it go to Chris because he had worked on me so much, gotten through my armor. Slowly, he had taught me how to love more than one person. That meant so much to met that I wanted him to have the 2D piece I was most proud of making. In one moment, with a single comment he probably hadn’t even thought twice about, he had thrown that out the window.

Another time I had opened the fridge to find it filled with food; a rare sight in the land of the Chris. None of the food was for him. It was all for Emily’s kids, who he loves. Over and over, throughout the evening, he mentioned how much he was enjoying the uncle role and how amazing the children were. I felt like a bitch, staring down at my dinner, upset about him loving something so much that I was unable to touch, or see, or fully understand.

There are many conversations about Emily being his number one, and wanting to be number one with her. Emily getting the most of his time, the most of his energy.

Emily, Emily, Emily.

I felt myself swallowing bitter pills more and more as time went on. Chris, this strong top who is quick to punish me for being five minutes late to lunch, let Emily get away with murder. Rescheduling and canceling things last minute, not showing up to something after a fight when she had made a commitment to, calling and having a fight with him in the middle of a date he and I were having.. More and more, I felt my territory stomped on. And there was always an excuse. If I pulled half the crap she did with him, he would have dropped my ass months ago. I couldn’t understand it. I was so hurt, so terribly sore, and yet even as he bent to her I saw him happy and fought being upset and jealous. I disregarded my feelings, chalking up what I could to a lack of primary and a need for more attention. I was okay, until I saw a photo of Chris wearing a leash and collar.

Chris is a switch, but his submissive side rarely comes out to play. It exclusively comes out with Emily, and I knew this. I was aware of this. But he is my Sir. Selfishly, I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t understand it. I was..disturbed by it. Upset he didn’t give me any warning about it. Angry at the amount of power and control she had over him. Very human emotions.

I asked him to give me a call when he could. He was away, on vacation, and we could not talk face to face. When we did talk I shared what I could about how I was feeling; that I didn’t want to be a bitch and be bitter when he was so happy but that I felt neglected. Shoved to the side. Second fiddle. I am aware that Emily comes first. I don’t need it shoved down my throat. James always came first for me and I tried my damnedest to make sure that Chris was always sure and steady in his importance and his place in my life.

Chris said one very key phrase, and suddenly everything fell into place in my mind about their relationship. Why he gave her so much lee way. Why she could do so much damage to him and why the effects lingered long after a fight with any of the rest of us would have been recovered for. Why he was so greedy for as much time with her as he could get.

“I feel as if I belong to her.”

The moment I heard the words, I felt equal parts pain and understanding. The subby ache inside of me reared its ugly head, and I let a couple silent tears fall. Yes, I knew that feeling well. From the beginning I had belonged to James. I didn’t need a collar to tell me that. He has always been able to touch parts of me that no one else has gotten near.

Chris, as much as he was my Sir, as much as he was a sadistic bastard at times, was not the emotional top in the relationship. He was hers. Emotionally, he was submissive to her.

I had been looking at the whole situation from a top’s prospective. Why was she given special treatment that the rest of us never would have gotten long before she became primary? Why WAS she the primary when she was by far his most difficult partner? Why did he cater to her so much, when so much of what she was would be a deal breaker with anyone else?

Because he was emotionally in service to her, and probably had been for some time. Now, as their relationship develops, he is comfortable enough to be physically in service to her from time to time as well. She is the only one he can do that with; the only one that he can even begin to imagine doing that with.

In a way, I understand. I can call any man who tops me that I respect sir. James remains the only man I have ever felt the desire to call my Master. He is the only one I can be a slave to, as of now.

I don’t know where this relationship with Emily will go. I hope that Chris doesn’t end up hurt, and I’m going to do my best to help him begin to navigate this sort of relationship in a slightly healthier way. There are ways to belong to one partner and still not make the others feel like crap. Partners are partners for a reason. Relationships are hard work. You don’t continue them, especially through conflict, if they aren’t things that matter to you. And I know that, realistically, I matter to Chris. I know he absolutely loves me. I know that I am not Emily, that I do not touch certain parts of him that she touches, but I also know that we have other things in common, and that’s okay too. Other things is different… not ‘not as good’. It’s teaching him how to communicate that (at his request) that will be..interesting.

Poly isn’t easy. But honestly, at this point in my life I can’t imagine being monogamous. Even with the drama, my life is much better with Chris in it. He is a good man, and for the most part a fantastic partner. We’ll navigate this. Nothing is unchanging. Nothing is perfect. Life is change, and development, and growth; and there is so much beauty in that.

Yours, still very much alive and kicking

Rene

 

Bittersweet

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My life is radically changing in the next few days… Hence why I’m awake at 2:33 in the morning on a night when I did NOT have a kink event for once.

I was up packing..because this is when I have time to pack.

On Saturday I am moving to the most wonderful new home. My roommates are kinky; a stable, owned and collared couple that have been together for years and are the most welcoming people I’ve ever met in my life. They’ve worked with my budget in every possible way (even letting me pay some of my first months rent on the 12th when I move in and the rest on the 16th), cut the price of rent almost in half to give me a home, and even have a little black cat of their own to keep Poe company when I’m at work. There is a kitchen to cook in, a garage to work in, a back patio for awesome BBQs, and a sense of peace that I am feeling for the first time since August 1st when I was given notice. The place is even wheelchair accessible with enough room for two, in time.

The one con of my new home when I have all these pros? It’s a con and it’s not.. The house isn’t in San Francisco. It’s down the Peninsula a ways, in a small town called Menlo Park.

I know Menlo Park pretty well. That’s where Rocky Horror nights happen. There is a cute bookstore, and Italian restaurants, and summer festivals that happen.. The town is just quiet enough that I can park on the street but not so quiet that I have little to explore. I’m suddenly close to Palo Alto, a city I’ve only driven through once, and am closer to friends in San Jose. I’m still only a half hour away from San Francisco by car (an hour by Bart), and as someone who grew up with that same amount of a commute into New York City from her home town this is nothing for me. This is normal for me.. The city is close, but not overwhelming, and I like that.

But it means giving up my San Francisco address, and being further away from James.. It’s a doable far away. San Francisco is our meeting point, just as it’s always been. I will continue to be at all the events I go to normally. I still have my jobs in and near the city. It’s just a matter of making sleepovers work and..seeing where this goes.

Packing up my life makes me nostalgic. I was wrapping up my fifty gazillion mugs (I’m a bit of a tea whore…), thinking about how much I’ve changed since I first moved into this place. This was my first real grown-up apartment. I was never in school while living inside these walls. I worked. I worked my ass off, and I grew. I learned. Almost my entire relationship with Kane happened while I lived here. I remember texting him after my road trip with my sister, telling him that I was all-in, that I wanted to be his.

I went from almost completely isolated in my kink relationships to being in an amazing community of people. Having friends that I see outside of just kink events. Having the first healthy poly relationship..and probably the first healthy relationship in general that I’ve had in a while with a man I am crazy about. I’ve gone from kink being at the fringe of my life to kink being in almost every aspect of my life.

I’ve lost some things along the way… I didn’t work while I was here.. not the way I wanted. My hands rarely touched clay. It’s something that I’ve sworn to change once Saturday comes to pass. I found a studio in San Francisco with drop in hours that I can afford..and dammit I need to work again. James has honestly taught me that without really trying to. The more I see him work, the more I hear him talking about what he loves about what he does and I see the dedication and time he puts into it.. the more I remember what it feels like to be lost in the studio. To be running around at 3 a.m. with headphones on, covered in clay and lost in my own world. There is a physical ache to find that part of myself again.. I need it like I need air.. Honestly, like I need to submit..

I met some friends that showed me an even broader part of my world. The Dark Odyssey events and the people involved in them are amazing, and I am honestly grateful to Smith for getting me more involved. For being my initial reason for going to Fusion, which led to connecting with Chris and several other awesome people.

I discovered today that that particular relationship has come full circle. I was poking around on Fetlife, as per usual, and ended up liking a blog that Smith’s primary had also liked. It was seeing that that made me realize I hadn’t seen updates from her in about a month. Smith was never much of a presence on Fetlife as it was, so I wasn’t exactly missing his updates. I clicked, and saw that she had blocked me, and so had he.. and honestly, I laughed. It was a sad laugh. It’s always sad when a friendship dies..but I had been so busy enjoying my life that I hadn’t noticed they had finally fully exited it. Part of me is still curious to see how they will navigate this when I plan on frequenting events they are involved with, and share play with someone that they play with as well.. We shall see. Still… It’s nice to have that negativity out of my feed, and out of my life. Cowardice is not a way to keep my friendship.

With all these changes I want to make one small change to this blog. I’m sure many of you have figured out from a couple posts ago that my name isn’t Rena. It’s Rene. One letter off, but still different. I don’t know why I changed that letter. Why I was so afraid to openly be Rene on here. I have this blog linked to my Fetlife profile, so many people know that it’s me.. Whatever the motivation, I would like to drop that small twerk and just..be myself. So, the writer is still the same It’s just the name signing the posts that’s changing slightly

So many beginnings, and so many endings. It seems appropriate that all these things seem to be happening at once, less than a month after my birthday. Will I miss some of the things that are gone from my life? Of course… but I have a feeling the best is yet to come. Good things are coming. I am excited to see what this next chapter in my life with bring me.

Yours overwhelmed with the amount of packing still needing to be done… GAH

-Rene

Language and Bubble Popping

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I identify as a submissive.

That is the very first line of my Fetlife profile, as to the point as I can possibly be. I do not say sexual submissive, I do not say bottom or switch. I say that I identify as a submissive.

Labels have power, and as much as we hate to admit it the world of BDSM is absolutely chock full of ’em.

submissive
Dominant
Top
bottom
Sir
sir
Master
Mistress
Ma’am
pet
brat
nonbinary
binary
secondary
primary
girlfriend
boyfriend
play partner
leather family
tribe
chosen

I could go on..and on..and on..

But if I did this entry would just be one long list and nothing explained, and that would be bad.

That being said, I am far from an expert when it comes to terms of ownership and how everyone should properly use them (honestly, there doesn’t seem to be one proper way, but that’s a whole other ball of wax). I am, however, very good at seeing the terms fumbled, and fumbling them myself.

What makes all these terms so messy is that every small orbit, every family, every clique or dungeon or group or sect or event has their own definitions for each one of these terms and what they mean to them. Every small clique of people I’ve seen uses these words in a slightly different way. That SLIGHT difference can cause a shit ton of drama if you’re drifting from one kink bubble into another.

A good example: When Cal and I first started speaking, he instructed me to call him Sir. Capital S, term of respect, proper noun to use as his name. I happily agreed to this. I knew nothing of other terms of ownership and language of the BDSM world at this point. I was green as green can be, and he was the center of my little BDSM orbit.

Enter into our dynamic Cal’s primary at the time. She had been bouncing around the Bay Area scene longer than I had been on the West Coast. Like Cal was trying to do with me, she was properly mentored, but by a hardcore Domme. She had her ways of communicating, her own kink language. To her, addressing someone as Sir was a term of respect earned. It bothered her that I used the term so half-haphazardly and automatically when addressing her Dom and boyfriend.

They were in a TPE (total power exchange) relationship, and she was as possessive and protective of him as he was of her. So, in talking to me, hearing me address her boyfriend as Sir, as if that was his name, bothered her a lot. From her perspective it was understandable, but I was following an order. I didn’t know what else to call him besides Sir. He calmed her, explained this to her, but she still had her issues with the conflicting languages. Certain things were embedded from way back when, when she was where I was at that moment. Green, new, absorbing everything and anything I could get my hands on that would set the foundation for how I navigated this new, kinky world.

This is my personal language, as it works in communicating with my friends in the San Francisco kink scene. It’s one person, in one bubble, in one community’s views. I identify a submissive as someone who gets pleasure from service, and from pleasuring others. It doesn’t always have to be naughty, kinky things. One of my favorite rituals thus far was having the opportunity to make Kane coffee in the morning and serve it to him to start his day. I enjoy cleaning up to make someone else’s life easier. I like doing dishes, as odd as that is to say. It makes me feel very zen.

I enjoy sexual service. I enjoy submission in the kinky sense, on my hands and knees, back arched, ass presented for use. I willingly give my body to those I trust to use for their pleasure, and I get pleasure and gratification in knowing that I’ve pleased others. But that is not why I label myself as a submissive.

I call myself a submissive before a bottom, a Little, a Furry, or any other fetish or label because I need to submit. I don’t want to. I need to. I am most content on my knees in service of someone I adore… The only term that comes first is “girlfriend” and that only goes to a primary for me (I know. I’m weird).

I am, personally, very big on showing respect in the language I use. It was instilled in me very early on that the use of capitalization of certain words helps in that. I was taught to capitalize the word Dominant in reference to any Dominant man in the kink scene, just as I was taught to reference submissive with a lowercase s (any time I reference any sort of D/s play, this capitalization comes into play). Capitalization, however, can be a land mine to walk into when talking to people from different kink groups. Some people reference capitalization Dominant with ownership. Ex: Dom James hit me with the cane at the party last weekend. It is assumed that Dom James is THEIR Dom, not just a Dom in the scene.

I am not one of those people, and I try to be aware that the language I use can trigger someone who is. For me, and for the community around me, there needs to be a “my” in front of the Dom to make that person mine, and mark him as the man who dominates me. I have also frequently heard the phrase “my Sir” used. I have played with many Dominant men in the scene, and will continue to show respect with that upper case D, but there is only one man that I have ever referenced as my Dom.

The only time that capital letter comes into play with ownership for me is the word sir. It slips out of my mouth when I’m in subby mode, even if it’s just a scene in a dungeon with a friend. It’s a term of respect for the people I serve, especially those I’ve played with more than once. It’s for Dominant men that I respect and have relationships with, even if they are very good friendships that extend into the dungeon and I’m not dating them. When I am in a submissive mindset, the man topping me is sir. However, the man that collared me is always referenced as Sir. Capital S, proper noun. I learned something from Cal’s primary a year ago. That capital S needs to be earned for me. Getting me to kneel at your feet is one thing. Getting me to stay there is something all together different.

I realize that not everyone uses the language and terminology I do in reference to the partners in their lives. As stated earlier, I don’t claim to be an expert on this. I am just sharing what is true for me, in my little kink community. I know there are others out there who use other words, other upper case letters, other phrases to explain relationships and interactions.

The one thing that I will stress as a truth in all this is the same thing I would stress as true in any dynamic of D/s or BDSM. Communication is absolute key. Please remember, dear readers, that almost every conflict is worth talking out. If you have an issue with language someone uses, pull them to the side and ask them about it. They may come from a different kink background than you do. They may have been taught that every man they play with is called Sir with a capital S and that anyone who puts a collar on them is Master. It doesn’t make them wrong. It makes them different from you and your group. They may come from a group where everyone is called a Top until they show their dominance, then they are referenced as Dominant, or they may be in a relationship where a submissive will only talk about her Dom using capital letters (He hit me with His new paddle, which W/we bought together at the Fetish Flea a month ago).

Wrong is not always wrong. It is just different. I challenge readers to expand their bubbles and learn other kink languages. Be open minded. Ask questions that will help prevent miscommunications and remember that everyone has their own path to walk. Each path has taken different twist and turn along the way and led people to learn different truths. They may not be your truths, but they are truths just the same, and they should be respected.

Yours walking her own path, as always

-Rena