~The Girl~

[Note: Originally written as I began to explore kink. Not necessarily NSFW, but I have held back talk of kink here as I settled into a rhythm and focus for Poly Nirvana. This needs to be here now. This needs to be owned.]

I am a girl.

I love being a girl. I love the curls and the giggles and the flirty looks. I absolutely adore the pink lips and the sweet perfume. Curled eyelashes? Yes, please. I get a little thrill when I’m click-clicking along in a great pair of heels and a man does a double-take and hesitates so he can hold a door open for me. I like my hips and my fleshy curves, and the way my body reacts to the right touch, by the right man, at the right time.

But what I enjoy most about being a girl is the illusion. The illusion that I am delicate and fragile and in need of a big strong man to scoop me up in his manly arms and protect me. In reality, I am fierce. Independent. Ferociously capable. I am in control.

I like control. It’s what I know. But I am completely, and utterly exhausted.

Exhausted trying to control things that are not mine to worry about. Tired of trying to say and not say, or do and not do, all the right things so that X, Y, or Z outcome will or will not happen. I am a strong, stubborn, self-sufficient woman, who is barely keeping her head above water, but doesn’t know how to let go.

Except for those moments, when I put on my prettiest pink lipgloss, and I smile happily at the man who has brought me a drink, or held open a door, or laid rope against my body in such a way that for a short time, my illusion of control is gone from me, and I can just be a girl, who is watched over and safe. I allow myself the surrender that will give me a few minutes of internal peace. I make a choice. A choice to be the broken girl who needs to be put back together, who needs to be shown that it can be good and safe to allow someone else to decide what’s next. I don’t choose where the flogger falls, or the crop lands. In that small space, all illusion dissipates, and I simply exist in my space, with no thought to what comes next.

Because being this girl is exhausting.

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Love, Life and Rational Polyamory

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Advice, fierce hugs and love punches from a queer on crutches.

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Exploring polyamory and other forms of ethical nonmonogamy


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