Whiplash

Last night I got to see Mr. S when his wife went somewhat unexpectedly to see her boytoy.

After stewing in my alien-ness for the last week, it was intoxicating to be with someone who takes it as an *absolute given* that I'm a completely normal human being. All of my issues of isolation and invisibility are completely off his radar, because in his world it's entirely natural for everyone to be warm, caring, and connected. Sometimes I wonder which of us lives in reality.

Our sex this time was mostly vanilla, except his brilliant attempt to use a needle-point pattern tracer on me. I am so NOT a pain slut, especially with the stingy. He was momentarily a bit petulant about it, pointing out that several other gals he knows just love it. Bully for him and them, I say, if that's what he wants he is welcome to go do it with them. And that was the end of that topic. :-P

On further consideration as I write this all out, the pattern tracer is probably the result of some miscommunication between us. We had a conversation earlier this week in which I mentioned I'd like to explore what marks he could leave on my body without my going into fight-or-flight. I was thinking nail scratches and bruising. Apparently he was thinking perforation. *sigh* I still think it would be neat to be able to go around for a day or two after fucking him and being able to say to myself, "Mr. S was here. This mark is proof."

In the end there was lots of snuggles before we put our clothes back on and went out to dinner. At the restaurant waitress was making googly-eyes at him. I said he should ask her out, he said his girlfriend probably wouldn't appreciate it. It was a cute moment.

Later though, on our way somewhere else, he pulled the No-Girlfriend thing again. I really want to say something to him about it, but how do you tell your friend that every time he merely points out the truth it rips you to shreds inside because all you hear is that you're not worth his love, that you're unlovable?