(This’ll probably take a couple posts.  Here’s one.)

As many of you know, I went to visit Antonio in his neck of the woods. When I relocate, it will be Over There. So I went.  To learn the area, to see some apartments, and SEE HIM.

I am tempted to say a combination of intensely disliking the part of the country he lives in (and, hence, becoming VERY fearful of living there permanently), plus major PMS/PMDD made me act like a wench, but… I really shouldn’t be making excuses.  I was just a bitch.

For example… 

‘Member I got my tongue pierced a second time?  The piercing was 30 days old, and felt fine in my mouth. But it turns out it was not NEARLY seasoned enough to take rough action. (Yes, I too was shocked that eating dinner is not as violent as face-fucking. OMG WHO KNEW?!?!?) Anyway, the first couple days I suffered through the pain and frustration that came with him using my mouth.

I suffered through it. I did not, however, manage to suffer silently. I whined, I sulked, I dreaded. I was a petulant, fearful, hormonal ball of Do Not Want.

About the third day I was there, he told me to get on the bed.  That was just The Last Thing On Earth I Wanted To Do, so I asked (begged) for a minute to get my head on straight. He looked at me,  paused for just a second and got a strange look on his face.  It was like he was seeing and hearing three days worth of my bitching all at once – like he had it on tape and was running it through his head.

Then he threw a towel at my face. I have no idea if he meant to be that damn symbolic.  But he really did “throw in the towel” with that.

He’s just not the kind of Master who wants an unwilling slave. He has forced me to do plenty, of course.  I suppose it’s that he just isn’t turned on by a lack of enthusiasm and he’s turned off by a whiny, bitchy, “I hate sucking your dick cuz it hurts me, omg, *whine*!!!” kind of slave. (Yes, I know.  I’m his partner, this is clearly a “duh” moment for me.) 

After that moment, he stopped doing a lot of his normal things.

… He didn’t call me into the bathroom after he used it, to clean him off.

… He wouldn’t push me down for perverted-pacifier time.

… He didn’t hit me or pinch me or grab at me “secretly” while in public.

… He didn’t put an arm around me when we lay in bed, he’d cross his arms.

It was disconcerting, to say the least.  I felt so empty and shameful.

I spent a lot of time just LOOKING at him, expectantly, full of fears and questions and fears and remorse and fears and thoughts and fears and irritating hormones. Also, since I don’t think I mentioned it, fears.

He didn’t SAY anything though, aside from “What are you looking at?”

And we went about our days, with otherwise total normalcy. Toward the end of my visit, I couldn’t take my brewing terror anymore, and let loose.  After, he half-laughed, half-sighed and said, “There is no molehill you can’t make into a mountain, is there? If something isn’t enjoyable for me – I’m just not going to do it.”

Simple enough, and completely my fault. He had a very “It’ll work out, just figure out your issue, shape up and it’ll be fine” kind of attitude. But I couldn’t see that at the time – I just saw the end of the goddamn world.

That night, after I had talked and apologized and had some time to think, I got pushed down the bed for perverted-pacifier time once again, and that was incredibly comforting.  It allayed some of my fears. 

I felt I was going to be able to get myself on track. I felt bad, I felt hormonal, I felt angry with myself and I felt… Stupid. But I felt like I knew where I had gone wrong and… I could DO something about it.

BTW, I’m embarrassed to have told you guys how badly I behaved… It’s reality, though. I’d love to tell you it was a week of uber-awesome kink, and I’m betting more people would read this blog if I had that kind of life at the moment. (One day, guys, ONE DAY I promise it will be true! Just let me get out there, and settled. Swear!) But right now it would be a big, fat lie. (On a depressing note, with the embarrassment I KNOW is coming in the second post, this embarrassment pales SO drastically in comparison, it’s relatively easy to share.)

Anyway, I came home. I was composing my thoughts for him in my head, and posts for the blog as well. I may not have learned any lessons, but I certainly learned which lessons I NEEDED to learn.

• One. Behave, behave, behave. Be-FUCKING-have. Dealing with my hormones will help this. PMDD makes me feel like a female version of The Joker because I’m not “looking for anything logical” and I “can’t be bought, bullied, reasoned or negotiated with” because I “just want to watch the world burn.”
• Two. Quit thinking about myself.  Sometimes, I swear the entire world is against me. I hate everything, I’m terrified of everything, almost without exception. The trouble with this is it assumes everything is somehow ABOUT me. And it’s most definitely not.
• Three. Suffer in silence.  Petulant children are a BIG sexual turn-off for Antonio. I do not need to be in the business of turning him off. That’s NOT my place, that’s the opposite of my place.

And the list goes on…

BUT… While I still feel those are definitely things I need to learn…

Bigger things have been put in front of me. Well, one GIANT thing, actually.

The announcement came down from The Man yesterday.  It’s… BIG. (Oh, hai Amber! What was that you were saying? Tease? ME? Pffft.  ¡Eres loca, mi amiga!)

I want to share Antonio’s exact words with you, because they are important words, and then I’ll try to walk you through my reaction (which is still utter gibberish, so you’ll have to bear with me when I post it) but I’ve been told, in general, his words are “not for public consumption” (can anyone spot the irony in that?) and this post is long enough as it is, so… I’m going to wait. Antonio has been talked into going fishing today, so I can’t ask right now.

I’m very… confused.