Anything for Love, but I Won't do That

I let my bratty little girl out to play last weekend. It was pretty fun. I got to go to an event where noone except the people I was with knew me. It was freeing and exciting. I like going places where I won't be met with preconceived notions of myself based on my reputation or what they've seen of how I play. (but yet to still be in communities where I identify) I got to meet people, and to form first impressions based on very little background information about myself. I find that to be a valuable reflection of how people generally take me. Reputations are funny little things. They can form realities in the minds of people you've never even met that take on form with little encouragement from the actual object of the reputation. That makes the reflections you get about yourself pretty suspect.

I discovered this reality when I got a regular job a couple years ago. Cradled in the bosom of a community where I'm known and generally understood even if I do/say dumbass things, it's a bit of a culture shock to go out into the real world and find out you are incoherent at best, and shockingly inappropriate at worst. Translation: My friends and community generally ignore obnoxious behavior on my part, but strangers do not. The regular world is peopled with much more closed minds than it appears I surround myself with.

Backside freshly stinging from the verbal spanking I'd perceived myself as having gotten the night before, I left town for a weekend of relaxation and ego licking. Somewhere along the line, I fell into brat mode. Being at the mercy of other people's schedule, the fact that other people were footing the bill for my trip, and a general feeling of petulence about my love life in general culminated in me spending the weekend as (described by someone else) "moody". Fortunately, I think this was said with tolerance and amusement more than annoyance. This came out as a general tendency towards smart ass remarks, inflammatory behavior, and minor foot stomping kinds of fits that involved saying things like "I don't want to eat there" with a *whine* and "I'm bored" in a sulky tone that would have gotten my mouth slapped if my mother was there.

It was when I walked by one of the people at the registration desk who was saying she wanted a sandwich for lunch, that I realized I was actually looking for my Daddy to smack me down. I was walking by and in my best Soup Nazi voice said, "no sandwich for YOU!" laughed and walked on. She called out, "What was that? I think you need to come sit on Daddy's lap so we can discuss this more." She was right, I really did need to sit on Daddy's lap and have a discussion about my bad behavior. I flipped up my skirt and wiggled my bottom at her, and got a laugh and an "exactly" comment from her, but then I bailed. She wasn't my Daddy and although the idea of taking comfort in the arms of a substitute was appealing, I wanted my Daddy and that was that.

I laid eyes on him that evening at the Ball. Tall, big (I like them big, so true) with shaggy red hair. I have a thing for redheads. He had on sunglasses and a leather policemans short sleeved shirt. Daddy substitute material?? I watched him from a distance and looked to see if I could get his attention. Eventually, I had a friend of mine who knew him call him over while we were hanging out on the outside patio. Ok, in reality, my friend said he was going to do it, and I figured the darkness would cover the 17 shades of red my face was turning at the prospect. My condition was further worsened by the conversation I'd had the night before on the VERY topic of male and female interactions, what was appropriate and what worked. Was I going to scare the shit out of this guy if I just said straight up, "Can I curl in your lap and call you Daddy, just for the weekend, since my Daddy doesn't love me anymore and I miss him something terrible?" I'm going to guess "yes" is the answer to that question. Ok, fair enough, plan B.

What, exactly, is plan B? Plan B is a combination of efforts, both traditional and honest. It helps to know his orientation... top, bottom, dominant, submissive are good starts. I had a pretty good idea from his dress and general bad boy demeanor that he was in the top realm at least some of the time, and that was all I needed. Then I was stumped. What if he's a switch? I'm a switch, and if he is too... how do you connect? It was the same question that came up from the interview that I had been mulling over... what happens if both people are playing the game? This advice is not gender specific, it can work either way. You take the approach that works, seduction isn't honest, and it has no ethical structure of its own except success. The key is how you figure out what game the other person is most comfortable playing. In normal vanilla situations, that's most commonly down gender lines. Not so in the fetish community. Switches make everything even that much harder, and I was getting a switch vibe from him. I'm flexible in my play. As long as the chemistry of power is in action, I don't much care which role I play.

I decided to base my approach on my goal. I didn't want to top him, which meant I had to make sure my approach was one where it set up a dynamic of his power. I started to warm to the task, and found the research I'd been doing recently coming in mighty handy. After spending some time catching his eye after that initial conversation outside, I approached to ask him a question about something that had come up in conversation before. He seemed interested in talking, and it was on. We chatted for a while, and I got a feel for him.

Maybe I could have done it, but in the end, I just didn't want to. He had the look, but not the vibe. Somehow I doubt anyone has the vibe fore me at this point. But it was good practice, and I'm glad I did it. It's nice to know I have a certain level of charm if I put my mind to it. Who knows, maybe next year.