08th August 2021 – Dark Horse

Because love never comes in perfectly organised little boxes.

Disclaimer: Although nothing in this post is sexual, it contains details of my life, banter and conversations that happen within a self-described 24/7 D/s dynamic and is aimed at normalising and providing acceptance of those of us who choose to live this way. For further reading on my decision not to provide an adult content disclaimer on my non-sexual posts, please see my post “LGBTQ+K: A Case For “Kinky” As A Sexuality“. Thank you.

Contains strong language.

It’s late. 2AM to be exact, but when is there ever a good time to start a post? Early? Late? When you can’t sleep?

This time, I’ll take option three.

Not too soon after posting yesterday, I accepted Matt’s gifts. I’m now set up with my stand, mouse and keyboard, and yes, they have made a distinctive difference. My hands feel shorter, if that can be a thing. Less stretched and overworn, anyway.

In truth, they did bug me, and I did feel bad about rejecting them. I didn’t reject them to hurt him, I rejected them to protect me. If he wasn’t open to polyphilia, then I didn’t want to be reminded of it. It wasn’t lashing out. If anything, it was an act of self-preservation.

After Thursday’s post, I collapsed onto my desk and wept; I was cold, confused, heartbroken. Could I… you know, love two different men? That much? Like… almost equally? I didn’t want to believe it possible. How could I be so in love with a man that I have never even met? I wanted to not let myself fall. Under the circumstances, I wanted to not let myself get attached, but it was hard. Very hard. Like Matt and I, Will and I are very similar: Hopeless romantics, science lovers, kinky laid-back family people, I could go on…

It’s okay to cry, Helen. Tears are okay, tears heal. Tears are just all of that heartache coming out.

“You know what? It can’t hurt. If you want to explore, I have to trust you” Matt said.

The fact that he did was a relief in itself. Not ten minutes later, I was happily unboxing and setting up my new desk.

“Heh, what made you change your mind?” Matt asked.

“Honestly? Just the fact that you decided to finally fucking trust me. The fact that you gave me the freedom to make my own mind up.”

“I’m just trying to protect you, love” he said softly.

“I did three different types of self-defence” I said with a wink, “I think I got this ‘protecting’ thing pretty covered”. He laughed.

He’s just trying to protect you. I could be anyone!, Will asserted. Yes, but I know you’re not. An ‘anyone’ wouldn’t warn against committing yourself to an online stranger. If anything, they’d be encouraging it.

Not only is Will married, but he’s also in the armed forces. I’m not sure why, but I found myself curiously staring at one word in one of his earliest letters – “deployed”. Little did I know at the time that it could wind up being such a problem for me.

At the threat of four months apart, I didn’t hesitate to suggest swapping mobile numbers. It’s not something that I’d normally rush into, I just knew that I couldn’t go four whole months without at least knowing that he was okay. Just for having that, things somehow felt better. I’d had long-distance relationships before with months in between. Whatever it was, we’d be okay.

Will and I spend most of our day talking, about not much and nothing in particular. We’ve talked a lot of things, from favourite ice cream flavours to BDSM rose collaring ceremonies. It’s not something that I’m personally keen on but I still respected his opinion, after all, blood is probably nothing new within the armed forces. Still, when you can have an intelligent, open conversation, then it surely makes for an interesting topic.

Wait… he’d do that for me? Woah…

How far would you take polyamory? Living together?


I assumed Will meant polyandry, but still. Me? Two husbands? This hypothetical scenario may sound somewhat idyllic, but the reality is anything but. There’s sleeping arrangements, power struggles, and let’s not forget the fight over the TV remote…

Not legal in the UK :p xx

It was a weak argument, but the law would back me up and there would be no further thinking required. This time around, I’ll take the easy way out.

Perhaps my biggest fear in falling in love again – besides the technicalities that exist here – is that, after a few years, that connection and admiration can lead to complacency, and desire can turn into disinterest. There was a time that I’d sing Step’s It’s The Way That You Make Me Feel under my breath as I walked the dogs with my family, infatuated with the man who once dated my school friend and who would wind up marrying me. Today, singing and good moods only really happen after sex night, and I have a quietened “huzzah!” in the vodka aisle as I remember our shared love for The Great. Complacency in a marriage is hard, but how would it look with two husbands? Would there be jealousy if one relationship was alive and kicking, and the other one was not? There were so many questions, sticking to the facts was probably easier right now.

I’d found myself listening to Katy Perry’s Dark Horse, a song that, somehow, was lyrical perfection for the way that I was feeling. Once little more than an annoying TikTok song, it’s now taken prominence in my life.

Make me your aphrodite

Aphrodite, the Goddess of love, sex and beauty. Well, I am a BDSM blogger, so I suppose that works, but anyway. I’ve already enchanted Will on more than one occasion. This little temptress has her ways…

Make me your own and only

Okay, so not possible.

But don’t make me your enemy.

Today, Will and I had our first “argument”, which is ironic because it was about a week in that Matt and I had ours. Both, typically, we’re caused by misunderstandings, both were the after-effects of the past, and both caused unintended hurt.

You don’t think I’ve been hurt enough not to want to let anyone too close? You don’t think I’ve been judged enough not to know what’s right anymore? You don’t think I’ve been told to be quiet enough times not to want to tear open my truth? Sooner or later you stop letting the world hurt you. Sooner or later you speak up and you fight back xx

The comment came over a reaction to my snack-tasting posts. It was well intended but even by Will’s own admission it was poorly worded and so as such, it was seen as a judgement of the amount (or lack of amount) that I eat. The amount that some people eat for their small size always astonishes me. For me, it seems that I only need to think about chocolate to gain weight.

For me though, judgement about my size, the amount that I eat and what I eat is a rather sensitive issue. It wouldn’t matter if I sat down to a reduced-fat tuna mayo jacket potato with side salad, an orange and a Kitkat for my lunch, for my mother, the focus would be on the ‘unnecessary’ Kitkat. In truth, I dread family get-together’s a lot of the time because I know that, in some way, I will be judged: The new recipe that I found that could do without that one indulgent part, my decision not to drive (because of the climate impact and economic gains of not doing so), the fact that I still haven’t applied for permission for a conservatory… all up for judgement. My brother, by comparison, could do no wrong. Even if he still lives at home at thirty and works part-time as a security guard, my brother, who also drives our mother’s hand-me-down car and on Mum’s multi-car insurance, has got it all planned out.

Catty? Me? Well, maybe sometimes…

It’s true what they say, that hurt people hurt people. When I’m hurt, the barriers go up. Heck, it’s not even a gradual process, those fuckers may as well be spring-loaded for all it’s worth. I recoil into a little ball and I don’t let anyone in. Like an octopus that got its tentacle bitten, I pull myself in and I refuse to open up. The more you try, the harder it gets.

I can also be a bit of an ice queen.

Fortunately for Will, and fortunately for anyone who knows me really, I can be easy enough to ‘defrost’ with empathy. The thing with judgement is that, when we judge, we often deny someone the right to have their voice heard, and by granting them the chance to speak freely, we can help them overcome the pain of being judged. That’s it! That’s all it takes, just a teeny, tiny amount of empathy.

What Will and I are exactly is still an unknown. “Friends” feels like an understatement, and lovers feels like an over exaggeration for two people who have only been chatting for little over a week, and would be far from allowed anyway. It feels like the “L-word” is there, but friends also don’t use the “L-word” so early on. So what, exactly? As yes, still nobody knows…

So you wanna play with magic?
Boy, you should know whatcha fallin’ for
Baby do you dare to do this?
‘Cause I’m coming atcha like a dark horse

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