Stuff from Fetlife. Posted originally over a year ago.
How many promises were broken?
I get up and do the mom thing, letting my real life sleep. I get my kids to school and I get home, and fire up skype, expecting a black screen.
Except it’s not a black screen.
He’s there, relaxing in bed, as he wakes up for his day too.
I start to bawl and turn on my camera, but leave it facing the little “bosies” drawing I did ages ago. It takes a while for him to realize that I’ve called him on skype, and even more for me to put myself mentally together before I rotate my camera towards me.
The bright smile he gives me, and the following two hours or so of conversation we have was what I needed. No Second Life. Nothing but him and me. We joke. We laugh. We talk seriously about some of the mindfucking I’ve been having to deal with. Specifically – my bosses at one place I work at.
On the one hand, they were making sure I was safe and wanting to protect me from being abused. On the other hand, not all dynamics are the same. Then there’s the entire rant of “real life comes first.” I don’t think those two think that it does.
We have to go and deal with real life and we promise to be together again later, but on SL. He wakes me up through a couple of texts and finally calls me and I, groggily, get up off the couch and go to my computer.
Then we spend the next 12 hours together. Dancing, talking, cuddling with Coyote, negotiating and more. He even commented about how distracted I can become, but he laughed, because, as he told me, he’s used to it.
Until he finally pinned me to a wall and used me the way he knew I needed to be used.
We had talked and talked and talked more. I put him back on my collar and I swear I saw him wipe back a tear.
“I have seen your profile in fetlife and Second Life and I don’t like them.”
“Shoosh, you,” and I quieted down to listen to him speak. “I want to be worthy of you changing your profile pics. I’m going to do my fkn damndest to make sure I am!”
Then he sent me to bed with warm fuzzies…
More lies… more doing the bare minimum…
Seven days to a new dom
“Look, if you want me to repartner with you on SL, you gotta prove to me that you are there for me.”
“How can I do that?” His eyes are bright and the blue pools sparkle as he looks me over. I feel so shabby and jonesing for pop. I’m suffering cause there’s none in the house and I’ve decided to cut it out. “What do I need to do?” he asks.
“If you can stay in contact with me for seven out of seven days, I’ll think about accepting.”
“I’ll do it. I’ll prove to you that I won’t leave you again.”
That was day 1.
The days tick by and he gets to day 5 when his net goes down. He had been enjoying the privilege of telling me what I could and could not wear, and deciding where we go in SL and more. He apologizes and says that if he can’t get back up, he’s going to go to bed.
He texts me on day 6, his net is still down. I ask if I can get out of the outfit that I’m stuck in – he doesn’t know that I already have, but it was only for the requirements of the event. As soon as it was over, I planned to change back into it. He says that yes, I can get out of that outfit.
Except, of course, I have too many to choose from.
Then an idiot happens and I end up in tears and not wanting to dj until Coyote and I have a heart to heart. She’s miffed about what happened, and chooses as I do to leave the group. Djing for 130lindens/hour is slavery and I am no one’s slave. Sure, I work for tips, but there’s working for tips and there’s outright slavery. If I am not making 2000L/hour, it isn’t worth my time to be there. I can squeak by at 3500L/2hr block, but anything less and either I am doing it because I love the sim or owners, or I’m doing it for charity.
I set up today to dj at the sim where I got my start and I do my shift and finish it, and I start to despair. I know that having to start again from scratch would break his heart.
I’m dancing with the host and chit chatting about a lot of stuff. I am laughing my ass off because I realize the host has a spanker on by accident, so of course, I have to use it. A lot.
Just before 7pm my time, he texts me. “Hey my kittlen, as you probably guessed I still have not got net back. I think the storm yesterday did something to my line. I have someone supposed to be coming out to check it. So hopefully it will get fixed.”
He texted me!! He got it together to text me!! I reply, “I was despairing cause I knew (isp) was down in (Scottish Shire). Back to 0/7 would have broken your heart”
“Yeah, it would have”
“Want to be a happy man?”
“Yes, please.” I can almost sense him there in the cold, vibrating from hypothermia, just to get a message to me.
So I text him this: “7/7.”
The reply from him is so bright on my screen, I had to laugh. I swear he was doing a Highland Reel! “Woohoooo!!!!”
“Keep it up and you have a happy girl.” I want him to get to 100 days of constant contact. Seven is a good start.
Then he texts me back. “I need to get my Scottish arse back inside now. I wanted to come out let you know the situation. Yes, I will keep it up. I love you, my kittlen.”
Okay… time for me to have warm fuzzies.
It’s been 7 days since I last had pop as well. I’m feeling the total loss of caffeine and I’m practically cruising my home for any other source that I can eat – NOT coffee or black tea. That would be dangerous for me. I found a tea I like, but I need a bigger tea cup to enjoy it.
When do the cravings for pop go away?
I failed with the pop addiction breaking. *sigh*