Birds of a Feather

One of the most difficult things about being a submissive guy is the fact that a vast majority of women want Pillars of Dominant Masculinity at the core of their men. That's not to say that these women want a macho jerk in their lives, but they want a guy who comes across as a leader, someone who will take charge, set the pace. To each her own. But that's not me.

I spend my work days getting masses of people (my current effort is about 30 direct, several hundred indirect) lined up and going in the same direction. I lead them, teach them, challenge them, cajole them, encourage them, and -- in those extremely rare cases in which I can find no other alternative -- go toe to toe with them. But I meet my objective. Always. But when I come home I have absolutely no interest in making all the decisions. In fact, the thought nauseates me. CAN I do it? Yes. Is it me? No. What lights my candle is a woman who is comfortable telling me what I can do for her, who gets enjoyment out of my applying my get-it-done attitude to obediently following her lead.

But she will face the same problem I face, only in reverse. Society wants her to be docile and ready to follow a man's lead. She will be hiding behind a sheen of what-is-expected, ready to burst at the mismatch between how she feels and the way so much of the world is. Normal for her isn't normal for the world. To prevent being labeled as "pushy" or "domineering" or "selfish," she will have become adept at keeping her thoughts and feelings hidden.

So we each live our lives, either pretending all the time for fear of not fitting in or dealing with the social disapproval of who we are. The worst thing is that we might be so good at pretending that we could meet, talk, shake hands politely, and go on our way without ever knowing that we just came into contact with someone with whom we share a very profound bond.

As I age and realize that there is a limit to how long I'll be around, I care less about appearances. But I still must put food on the table. My work is in a relationship business, wrecked at the wrong reputation or rumor, built over decades and not to be risked unnecessarily. But I'm more interested every day in finding ways to let the right women know who I am, that we are birds of a feather and we can understand and care about each other as medicine for our mis-fit with society.

Quietlisten

Hunger

I've been fortunate to have been involved in more than one startup company, and I have to say I like the environment. There's a sense that one is inches from the brass ring in front, with the hounds nipping at heels in back. It's peak performance, sometimes desperation, always exhilarating. Everybody is hungry. They are willing to do extraordinary things, and it's rarely only about the money.

Recently I participated in a short (by some standards) experiment in chastity. It was only a couple of weeks, but that was highly unusual for me. I'm accustomed to doing what I want, no consequences. The last time I went a week without self-pleasuring was probably several presidents ago. But I found that as I slipped deeper into the submissive trance that is male chastity, the feeling I developed can best be described as sexually hungry. I wanted something that I couldn't have. And I thought about it in the background all the time.

Oddly, the thoughts were not just about getting off. More, they were about why I wasn't doing something about it when there wasn't even a cage, tube, or teeth preventing me. The only thing stopping me was the trust placed in me that I would not. As I stewed in my hormones, biology telling me in no uncertain terms to DO SOMETHING, it struck me that while I wanted to cum, I needed to obey.

Choosing is setting priorities. I chose to remain chaste until told otherwise and reveled in the sensations that choice caused in my submissive circuitry. Instead of blowing off a little steam now and again, I was experiencing a boiler, temperature and pressure rising. I was hungry to explode, more so not to. I felt tuned and ready, as unselfish as I know how to be; peak performance, desperate, exhilarated.

Now I'm under no restrictions -- experiment over -- and there is no pressure for long. Even if I imposed restrictions on myself, the directive and the object of obedience would not be there. But I've tasted it and so cannot forget. I'll always want to be there again, hungry and as unabashedly myself as I know how to be.

Quietlisten

Launch it!

I'm not a huge blogger. Mainly what I have to say I say directly to the people who need to hear it. It's just so easy to either post drivel or get wrapped up in feeding the Word Beast. So why now? And what the heck is this about?

The biggest reason for this location is to allow outlet for content that I cannot include on my personal blog. That's read by my family, friends, co-workers, etc. So it's not a good idea to recount the trials of being a single, 42-year-old guy who is sexually submissive. (No, that doesn't mean I will submit to anyone who slaps the label "Dominant" on herself.) But I've been learning about kink and about myself at a pretty good clip lately, and a blog is as good a place as any to jot down some of that. Perhaps someone will identify with my comments and I'll make a friend or two.

I'm brewing up a first post, but I have to be up in less than six hours for work, so it will have to wait until tomorrow.

Quietlisten
(Whoever took the url quietlisten.blogspot.com, please either use it or let me.)