It’s your subconscious trying to let out your inner little.

Today I had a massage and all I could think about was how the weight of someone else’s body on mine didn’t feel like the weight of the bodies I love. It’s the subtle differences and subtle movements that our bodies respond to.

I thought I had explored the edges of kink. I thought I had discovered, to a degree, what my body enjoyed, what my mind responded to. I knew I didn’t have my list yet, and I knew I had more exploring to do, but I had never really bedded in why the kink I had been involved in never really sat well. It never felt like it fit.

I know now that He was abusive. His hands around my throat were not considered. They were not careful, they were not caring. On reflection, they could have killed me, and I didn’t know any better. Hindsight.

With her, I could never descend. I topped from the bottom. I could never let go; subspace was an elusive place that seemed unobtainable. I was at peace with that – I have always been switchy, but I have also always been very angry. Very lost, always at war with myself, my demons, the demons of those who played with me.

Aftercare was a foreign concept. I thought I had experienced it, I thought I had been in subspace, even though I never found it a comfortable place to rest. I assumed, through lack of comparative experiences, that was normal. I was wrong.

I am a recovered addict. It’s not a stretch to see that a majority of the relationships I’ve been in were unhealthy. They were based in power exchanges that were not safe, sane or consensual. They were based in chaos, in turmoil, in fast-paced, impulsive decision making. With 4 years of sobriety (nearly) under my belt, so much has surfaced that I didn’t know I needed to unpack. I didn’t know I was ready to unpack. Then he turned up.

He is thunderbolts. I am his unicorn.

Daddy is not a word that is in my vocabulary. I don’t know my father, beyond his name and his rough location. We have interacted a handful of times across the 1000s of miles that separate us, and to say he is unwell is, at best, an understatement. He is controlling, he is degrading, he is abusive, he is disorganised and chaotic. He is a power player. He is every man I have ever sought out, or who has sought me out. Daddy issues are real.

But Thunderbolts is different. He’s quiet. He’s observant. He’s strong. He is a presence and a force of his own. He doesn’t raise his voice. He is something I have never encountered. He is giving me space and motivation to unpack. He knew which suitcases I was bringing into this before I did. His EQ is unparalleled to anyone I have ever met before. Our chemistry is cellular, deep and electric.

He was not an active decision for me; we connected across a room the first time we met and it was thunderbolts. That all-encompassing moment when someone enters your orbit and you can fight all you want, you can shut your eyes and busy your hands, but they’re there. In your mind, under your skin, immediately in your view no matter which way you look. All without even exchanging a word.

He relishes in my strength. He encourages my confidence. He gives me time, peace, quiet – he respects my all and my everything. He gives me what I need when I ask for it. He knows what I need often before I do.

He isn’t Daddy, but he is.

I woke up this morning to a dream that the bed was empty and on rolling over and feeling around for another human, and not finding one, I yelled out Daddy. It was so real I woke up in shock. I have never said that word, to anyone. And suddenly I was calling out for it, or someone.

I never knew I could find these places in myself. I never knew that this phase of sobriety would bring clarity to this degree, or learning to this level. I am growing. I am evolving. For the first time in 30+ years, I’m not fighting it. My revelation.

My wife is the polar opposite to me. She is logical and analytical and calculated, and sometimes, very cold. We joke that she is on the spectrum, but sometimes it’s very clear that’s not so much funny as it is accurate. We are very open about what we both are and what we both aren’t, but I hadn’t realised until now why I couldn’t relinquish to her.

Our relationship has a chasm so wide in our communication styles, though not our communication flow, which makes our relationship both unique and persistent. I draw a lot of pride from that – we have been able to build a relationship through differences most would have given up on. We both persist, we both listen, we adapt, we grow, we learn how to meet in the middle. We are a very strong couple, our chemistry is unique.

We talk often, about deep things, about feelings, about futures, about sadness and pain and joy and fears. She is my grounding force. She brings me earth when I can only see sky. She brings me peace when I can only hear noise. She brings me caution when I can only hunt danger. The only part of our relationship that we have never been well matched on is EQ. I compliment her, and she compliments me, but it wasn’t until this revelation that I realised that a partner with strong EQ has been missing – not just missing, but I’ve needed it. Thunderbolts is answering a need. Those answers are giving me growth and strength; I was ready for it. I needed revelations and evolution of self.

I am acutely aware that I am navigating dangerous territory. Comparison is the death of polyamorous ventures. I need to navigate with caution and respect.

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