Oh, look. I found something to say. Nevermind that I also lost it…

So I was cruising around FetLife, looking for something to inspire a rant or some deep thought or…  whatever.  Cuz, yanno, life in the Taylor y puss casa has been damned quiet and normal and uneventful for a damned long time.  (For those who may not know, puss = me.  Taylor calls me puss)  And I’m cruisin’ around in the normal places where I find inspiration — Just us  Clueless Slaves and Submissive Women Whine and Masters and Slaves Who are Better than Anyone Else — and I just wasn’t finding any inspiration.  The sheer stupidity, inane questions and holier than thou attitudes just weren’t pissing me off at all.

So I went and checked kaya’s profile.  I know I can count on her to have found and participated in some good conversations, most likely with a bit of snark to feed on.  Kaya is good like that. :)  I luffs her.

Anyhow…

I didn’t really find snark or something to set me off on a rant but I did find a post that was basically asking if the Master types actually follow the rules they set up for the slave types.  You know…  do they actually put the cap back on the toothpaste if they expect their girl to or is it a do as I say, not as I do sort of thing.

And kaya replied with this, in response to the Masterly types who don’t hold themselves to the same rules, etc :

I’d have to say it’s a master’s right. It may even be hypocritical. That’s one of the perks of ownership. He holds me to higher standards, expects me to do things that he doesn’t have to do and in a better way than he might do it. Quirks, perks, hypocrite.. shrug

I rather like the inequality of it all. It titillates me. ;)

And it made me realize it’s actually the one thing about all this M/s, O/p, D/s, what-the-fuck-ever stuff that irks the living shit out of me.

Taylor is the same way.

I even mentioned the other day how I sometimes feel like I can’t make mistakes.  (Which, yanno, really goes back to my entire life.  My parents where the same way.)  He expects me to always do things…  right.  It’s not like he thinks I’m perfect.  Just that I’m, like kaya said, held to a different standard than he even holds himself.

Which…  okay…  most times isn’t the end of the world.  I hold myself to excessively high standards most times.  But Taylor also isn’t the greatest at the whole praise thing. (Neither were my parents nor the nuns who taught me during my formative years.  Seeing a pattern here?)

So I’m sure you can imagine the combo of high standards and infrequent praise often — often! — leaves me feeling like I’m just….  not good enough.  Or makes me angry.  Like…  fuck you, fuck this, fuck OFF sort of angry.  Foot stomping, china throwing, it’s not FAIR sort of angry.

But, of course, I can’t do or say any of that.  So I stifle it.  I bitch and moan about stupid stuff like a shrewish wife in my frustration and inability to change the real cause of my anger and hurt.

And, yanno, I don’t find it the least bit erotic.  It doesn’t tittilate me these days.  It just leaves me feeling…   shitty.  Disappointed, maybe.  Hurt certainly.

Like the little girl I used to be, always searching for that smile, that touch, that “good job”.

And now I can’t even remember where I was going with all this.  Bah.

I’ve probably made it seem like life is shitty and my relationship is shitty and I’m unhappy.  Fuck it if I did.  If ya gots smarts you’ll realize this is just a tiny bit of my life and that…  oh my god!…  we all have areas of our lives that make us feel shitty on occasion.

And the fact of the matter is I’ve lived this way my whole life.  If Taylor had lower expectations of me, I wouldn’t be with him.

I guess I just sometimes get fed up, aggravated to my blowing point and unable to let off much steam.  And I guess I wish praise was a bit more plentiful in our house and, maybe, that he’d raise his expectations of himself just a bit.

The whole do as I say, not as I do mentality?

It often leaves me feeling superior to the person who doesn’t do.

And that can be a messy headspace to get into.

/end babble

I really did mean to make more sense with all this.  I think I even had a point when I got started.  But it vanished along with the cup of Haitian Blue I’ve been sipping and it’s a lot easier to brew another cup than it is to find a lost point…

p.s. I wrote this all while sprawled out in a rocking chair with my feet up on a footstool.  The world of laptops fucking RULES.  I should have bought one years ago.