PuckIt is offline
Join Date: Jul 2017
So, the kids are gone. And the absolute first thing I did was get nekkid. *sigh of relief* Followed shortly thereafter by hoping on Lit to get my fix. And, okay, while I was slipping in under their radar for the last couple of nights while they slept, I did some quick checking in on this thread. Perhaps at least partially to make sure there were no stuffie missles again. (And, okay. I might have made a note about a big earred girl for later use...)
But, I was also reading over some of the comments once the thread got back on track from my derailment of it. Specifically what Cascadiabound and EWw had to say about the DD/lg dynamic. And what several others had to say about their own strength... And, well. I don't know. I don't know if it means diddly squat, but some of it sparked a memory.
A long, long time ago, I read a novel by a guy named David Weber about just about the most kickass bitch you've ever even heard of named Honor Stephanie Harrington.
And, alright. So, I'm not psychologically ill. I know how to separate fantasy from reality. And I know that Honor Stephanie Harrington (and her treecat Nimitz) don't actually exist outside of the febrile imaginations of David Weber and myself and whomever else might have read that series. But, that didn't stop me from falling more than a little bit in love with her. And deciding then and there that I could never settle for anything less!
But, see, here's the thing. Honor Harrington is real. In a way. Several of you ladies here have many of her qualities. As do several others that I've had the (heh) honor to cross paths with.
As did the woman that I called Love.
And by the way, just to clarify, that is not a name I've given her here to keep from saying her real name. It was literally what I called her. My "pet name" for her. Love.
Someone asked me one time just how in the world I came up with that nickname rather than "sweetie" or "dear" or any of the others that we hear so often. My answer was this;
I had stopped believing that love was even real. As far as I was concerned it was a construct that people had come up with to define the fact that this person made them feel good. She came into my world and opened my eyes that love was indeed a real thing. To me, she is the embodiment of love. So, I named her that, so that neither of us would ever forget. She is Love.
And yes, I did get laid that night. Your point?
Any road, before I got sidetracked clearing up any possible misconception about her name (which I believe I did identify her by name in my "Give a Fuck" thread), I was making the point that she was actually a strong woman. Incredibly strong. Despite sleeping with a teddy bear wearing my old jersey when I was unavailable. Despite turning to me when just needed a minute to get her game face back in place. Despite actually calling me Daddy (which might not have been meant as ironically as I always thought it was).
However... there was still room left to grow. Well, sure there was! When isn't there?
But, I can remember as if it were just yesterday...
Er, actually, my short-term memory is shit. I remember further back more clearly.
Anyway, so I do remember sitting Love down and having a conversation with her during the first days after she followed me back to my hometown from the town where we met. And I basically told her that I did love her very much. And that she would always be Love to me. But, that unless certain things happened, I just didn't see much future for us.
The first was that she would go to college and get a degree. I didn't care what the degree was in. But, she would have one.
The second was that she would have her own career and her own money. That we could help each other out, even share finances, but that I wasn't going to support her completely. That I couldn't. That I had to know in my blood and bone that she was with me because she wanted to be. That she knew and completely internalized that she could stand on her own if she had to or just wanted to. But, that she chose to come to me.
(And we just really won't go into when I made her learn to fill out our 1040 a couple of years. 'Twasn't pretty.)
And I know that on the surface, that seems to conflict with what I said earlier about wanting to be her stone shelter when she needed one and her stone perch to launch herself from when she needed that...
But, it really kind of doesn't. Because... well, I don't know. Color me stupid, I guess. But, I think even the baddest bitch in the valley, even Honor Stephanie Harrington herself, could maybe benefit at least a little from knowing someone was standing by to have her back, even if it was just to hold her cape while she commenced the ass kicking.
And if I have one stitch of pride in any of my accomplishments, it is that I was the stone shelter that one badass bitch chose to use when the storm ruffled her feathers. And... I don't know. I think maybe if I were to ever allow myself to be that long-term partner again, it would have to be a tough, self-reliant, badass bitch that just turned to me because she wanted to. Because she trusted me enough to allow herself to appear weak, even if for just a moment, when she puts up a strong face, whether facade or not, to the rest of the world.
I don't know. Read about Honor Stephanie Harrington if you haven't. And tell me that even though she routinely kicked a lot of ass that she wouldn't have liked to shelter in the arms of someone special. That she wasn't, in her carefully hidden badass bitch heart, a little to Paul Tankersley.
I'm not clumsy. It's just the floor hates me, the table and chairs are bullies, and the walls get in my way!
>> According to someone I used to know, I'm just another old coot giving out bad advice. But, at least it's free.
>>My semi-literate drivel
>>Feel free to tell me how to go about giving a fuck (or reading what others smarter than I say about it if you have no clue either) over here