A couple of days ago, Windy, over at When The Storm Whispers To The Wind posted this question: When did you first realise you had submissive feelings and how far have you embraced those feelings?
I thought I'd give it a whirl and see where I end up. I think this will require a bit of my life story before I found my newfie.
I think it was pretty early in life that I realized something was there inside me. By the time I was 11 or 12, I was reading straight up porn that could be bought at the corner store. 2 books in one, pretty thick, and they only cost about 7 bucks. I have no idea why any adult would let a kid buy books like that, but things were different back then. That would have been mid 80s. Around 13 years old, I discovered The Story of O - I mean, is there any of us that haven't taken a least a peek into that classic? Well, it wasn't long before I learned that it was that kind of sex that turned me on. But it all stayed in my head.
When I was 17, I'd just moved out of my parent's home and had moved into my first apartment. I worked at the same place as my mom did. Occasionally, we'd stay pretty late as she was the night supervisor and was always the last to leave. The busses weren't running that late at night and we'd share a cab, even though we literally lived at separate ends of the city. Every night we had to take a cab, it was the same driver. And I fell head over heels in love with him. (I found out later that he'd requested that he get the calls to pick us up)
But I was only 17, raised Catholic, just newly out of my safe nest at my parents, and this guy was 26. I'd never dated before. Hell, I didn't even go to school dances. I was shy, and a scaredy-cat my whole life, being raised by a very strict Catholic father with some mental issues, like being bi-polar. My mom tried to be the best buffer between his craziness and us kids, but there was only so much she could do. Anyway... so here I was faced with a 20 minute drive, late at night, alone in a cab with this long-haired guy that kept saying nice things to me. But, oh, I was scared to death! And I didn't believe any of the nice things either. I wasn't pretty. I wasn't all that funny. I wasn't anything special. Just plain me.
For one full year, he asked me for my phone number at least once a week. I turned him down every single time. I wasn't even an "adult" yet! But finally, he wore me down. The first time we met outside of him "doing his job and driving me home" was the first afternoon after I gave him my number, and he called me a few hours before my shift... And I was sick! I had a stupid cold and had woken up feeling like something the cat had dragged in. He turned up at my door shortly after that with some soup and sent me back to bed and left.
Well, I didn't know it then, or see it... but looking back, there were a lot of signs that he was accustomed to being in charge, and I was more than happy to submit. But I was still young, still scared of my own shadow, and I think, in that fear, squirmed my way out of that relationship within 2 years. Not before I turned up preggers with my first son though. No regrets. There's no way we were a good match, but I think some parts of that relationship have always acted as a bit of a yardstick to see who measured up and who didn't.
Somewhere around the time I was 24 (maybe), I met a guy, we lived together, I got preggers again, and then married him. How that happened is another story all on its own. But chalk it up to a lot of pressure from various sources, me still being just a little girl that was scared and didn't know how to say no, and never wanted to hurt anyone's feelings. He had no spine. At all. It was odd to find myself in charge in that marriage when that was the last thing I wanted. But I had more balls than that man ever did. It only lasted a year. Exactly one year later, on our anniversary, I told him that I didn't love him and there was no marriage. Unfortunately, I'd had to go out to supper with him, down a pitcher of beer (It was cheap wings and beer night at a local club) to give myself some courage. Well, needless to say we both ended up a bit tipsy. Somehow he missed the message that we were done and he should sleep in the spare room and I ended up preggers with the third child.
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