Its Mothers day and that means that many of my moments centered around this holiday, but I am also a Master down deep inside and that means that no matter what happens, somehow it leads to a BDSM related thought… Now those two subjects.. Mothers day and BDSM shouldn’t go together.. but I am nothing if not inappropriate.
The thing – Every mothers day, Mom volunteers her morning to a local mothers day fund raiser breakfast. I usually show up with cards and flowers in front of her friends.. you know… so they can all see what a great son she raised. I like to do nice things for mom.
The thought – I am thinking.. its OK to show appreciation, but I don’t want to be one of those boys who still has a “Mommy”. I wonder: Have I taken her lessons to heart, but applied them in my own way with strength of thought and self determination? In other words, In showing my affection, have I in any way compromised control of my life? I think I have a good and healthy balance on this one. In other words.. I could take some ribbing on it, since I know none of it would be true. Its ribbing that hits close to the mark we don’t feel comfortable with.
The thing – This time I decided to do something different.. take her to a movie, something she would never have gone to on her own.. A 3D movie. Before I bought the tickets, I checked when Izrina would be out of work. She asked why I was buying three tickets… I explained.. When we arrived, Mom worried that the glasses would give her a headache. She worried that the glasses were expensive.. until I showed her where to recycle them. Like me, she often has strong opinions.
The thought – I had to juggle things a bit, to get a movie in a time that Izrina free and Mom could do. It involved Mom driving at night. She’s nearly 80. I don’t like her driving at night. Now its me that has to let go of control. I want to make decisions for her, that protect her, but at the same time, question my right to do so. Its has the same odd sense of self examination that comes up frequently in my control of my slave.. how very odd to associate those two, I thought.
The thing – We had assigned seats. You get to pick your seats. I had bought three together, third row, near the center. Close enough to get the big screen effect, far enough back that you aren’t swinging you head back and forth to see everything. Izrina took the first seat she came to. I moved her, twice, and I moved mom. Everyone was dancing around, trying to keep me happy.
The thought – Ok, I am a control freak, no doubt. First Izrina has to be on my right. That’s a protocol. She took the farthest left seat of the three. If I switched with her, she would be on my right, and mom would be two seats away from me. Not good enough. I needed Mom on the left and Izrina on the right. I wanted the middle.. the driver seat so to speak. Here we are out relaxing, and I still need to control things. No one was upset or understood, but in my mind, there was a logic and a protocol to the directions I was giving. I simply would not have been happy if I ignored what I wanted. and just went with the flow. Not when, with just a little nudge, I could have it the way I wanted it. Sigh.. I am what I am…
The thing – I went to breakfast the next day anyway. Mom commented on what a nice evening she had. Conversation turned to this that and the other.. I mentioned.. You know, its odd but in many ways, my relationship with Izrina is much like a 50’s housewife. I then said: Don’t you think it odd that to what was a typical relation half a century ago is now considered kinky?
The thought – This epiphany comes from mom.. She replied. people don’t think its kinky.. they think its abusive. Woof.. Take the wind out of my sails why don’t you? Abusive? Hmmm, yes some persons might see it that way. Interesting. Kink might be the less offensive label. The thing is, this no longer has to be gender based. We can choose to consent to these choices.. male or female. And yet, yes, some may still accuse loving couples of coercion, of abuse, of Domination without real consent.
The thing – We talked of children and such. The question of transitioning from teen to adult came up. Of college and the military. I was glad when Vietnam ended just before I turned 18. I was raised to follow orders. At eighteen I had not learned yet to exert control over anyone else. Adults were still those people that gave orders. Had I gone to Vietnam, I would have almost certainly been a very good taker of orders.. which probably would have gotten me killed.
The thought – I WAS brought up to follow orders. Old school training of Masters required that to be a Dominant, you first had to train as a slave. The idea is that you must know what a bottom knows and feels before you can top. I never liked the idea of being anyone’s slave, not even a sub… but here is my epiphany.. my childhood WAS my slave experience.
We had a very top down, my way or the highway household. There were many things we were not permitted, or that we had to do for ourselves. My parents had no problem with orders, responsibilities and punishment. I won’t go into great detail here, but my parents were much more strict than the other kids parents. I took a belt a few times. I even did the “cut your own switch” thing.. damn if that ain’t a scary thing. In retrospect, perhaps I DID do my time as a bottom after all. Interesting thought that….
Mothers day was wonderful, even if my mind does constantly go back to BDSM. This isn’t a kink, it isn’t a lifestyle. It is my orientation. Everything seems to come back to questions of choices, of control, and these are a constant touch point to the very core of my being.
I would like to end with a word picture of a very happy elderly woman. She ambled off to the baked goods table. It is painful watching her walk. So many parts are going, but she refuses to let it change her. She sat and an elderly man struck up a conversation. I decided I needed one more hug before I left. I waited patiently for him to finish his questions, and maybe buy something. She looked up at him smiling.. He down at her and he came around to the side of the table.. I think he was telling jokes now.. she was laughing.. and quite unaware I was waiting patiently for one last hug. I watched them, these two.. both probably in their late 70’s, enjoying each others company. I slipped out. I’ll get that hug another time, God willing. You never know how many days left you will have, but while you have days that are yours to live, laughing and joking with a warm soul is a pretty good way to use your time.
Carpe Diem my friends.. Go be someones great day.. especially if you know them, and they happen to be a mother.