Posted by: littlegirlyone | January 24, 2008

on waiting

as a general rule, i hate waiting. i hate waiting to open my holiday gifts, and i hate waiting for people when we are supposed to meet. i really don’t like waiting at traffic lights, waiting for summer, or waiting for things to begin. so i’m surprised to confess that i recently chose to wait. and, even more surprising, i exercised this new-found restraint with a boy.

let me explain . . .

i traveled in a group. one of the better looking men sat next to me the night we played “never have i ever” in my room. i had really only noticed him because the younger girls thought he was divine, and kept asking me if i agreed.

he was cute, but the sort of blonde and blue-eyed, pretty-boy cute that i don’t usually find sexually stimulating. he looked innocent. plus, even though he was a good deal taller than me, he was thin, and something about him reminded me of my (gay) best friend from high school. and he was younger than me. all those factors combined made him, well, not unattractive, but definitely not a prospect.

i can’t remember how it started. one minute, we were playing “never have i ever,” the next, i felt his hand tangle in my hair, close to the scalp, and pull firmly backward. when he released me, i said something cocky and dismissive about how he shouldn’t start something that he wasn’t going to finish, goading him.

he did it again.

“how dare you!” i cried in (false) indignation. “how would you like it if i did that to you?” and without further ado, i grabbed his short, blonde curls in my hand and yanked backward.

there was a moment, a definite moment when his blue eyes twinkled something, and i felt that electric, flirty energy pass between us. of course there was no way i was going to tell him to do it again, but i hoped, fervently, that i had might have met someone i could connect with sexually. it was the perfect scenario: i was traveling sans mark, with a bunch of hyped-up young men and women. some of them (including this particular young man) hailed from the country i was visiting. a transatlantic fling would have been ideal. i wouldn’t have to see him after the trip. he wouldn’t have to see me.

i have been feeling that need lately; that hands-on, hard up, need to be used and used and used feeling. it’s been a long time since john; if i were given 3 wishes right now, you can bet that one of them would be for some raw, physical D/s contact. so it’s not all that surprising that i felt that hopeful desire for him. what was interesting was that i chose not to act on it.

i’ve always been a good flirt. by that, i mean that i’ve always been good at finagling men to start things with me when i wanted them to. and when all else failed, i’ve had no problem starting things myself. i prefer to be the kissee, obviously. but, in the past when i’ve realized that the guy in question was never going to have the guts to begin, i’ve been totally capable of helping myself. not so this time.

i found myself completely stuck. i was awfully curious about him, but i was totally unable to get myself to make the first move. the hair-pulling (which continued as a sort of inside joke for the remainder of my travels) was as far as it ever went, despite the fact that i’d enlisted my very best eyelash-batting routine. it wasn’t going anywhere with him. this wasn’t like me. and i couldn’t figure out why i was having such a hard time making a move.

i suppose on one hand, my difficulty indicates how picky i’ve become. i didn’t want a lame one-night stand. i didn’t want timid kisses, soft whispers, light caresses. i didn’t want vanilla sex, even hot, gooey, hair-pulling vanilla sex; i wanted stringent, controlled use. i wanted a Dom, i guess. i certainly didn’t want some handsome college boy with his overexcited responses and his tenderness. if he didn’t have the guts to kiss me, there wasn’t a very good chance he was going to have the guts to hit me.

also, i didn’t want to have to kiss him, damn it! that isn’t very submissive, is it? arguably, that’s pretty controlling, demanding, or downright dominant of me. shouldn’t a submissive just want to be the object of satisfaction? and if that’s the case: what is a submissive’s pickup line?

at its core, my frustration is really about realizing that two things that have changed: first, i’ve lost my taste for “average” sexual encounters (at least for the time being). i hate to even write that; it’s snobbish, elitist, ridiculous, and, unfortunately, very, very true. second, i’ve lost my either my ability, or my desire, to “start” sexual encounters.

i think these changes are related. because i don’t want to have a traditional encounter, i’ve lost my motivation to be the aggressor. it really doesn’t make any sense to hope that a guy who doesn’t have the guts to make the first move on lil’ ol’ me would have the guts to show me his dark side right away (and that’s assuming he has a dark side, i know). so, in a sense, why should i go to the trouble if i’m going to be disappointed when he behaves exactly the way he projected he would in the first place?

frustration aside, i’m pretty pleased i didn’t pounce on him when i had the chance. it didn’t occur to me at the time, but my inability to express any sexual aggression may have been a good protective mechanism. i knew, somewhere inside, that i wasn’t going to get what i really wanted out of him. so i waited.


  1. Spoiled? poor little girl.What Hath John Wrought?

  2. Did you think of the possibility that he has a submissive streak too? So both of you might have waited for the other to take charge.

  3. i was thinking that too. you said the twinkle came into his eye after *you* pulled *his* hair! a sweet young pretty boy… i bet he was totally infatuated with the power of you, a confident older woman. and too focused on himself to notice that the confident older woman wanted her power to be taken away, not conjured for his pleasure.

  4. Sounds familiar? “. . . he went for three years without having sex because he couldn’t have it the way he wanted to have it . . ” so he waited.

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