Reconnection

"But oh, what a beautiful thing when you sing

Hear all them bells ringing out in the street

Hammer strikes the metal and makes me believe

'Cause if I don't believe in love

Then I don't believe in you

And I do"

- Ryan Adams

I'm pushed down into the couch. The couch we discussed, measured, purchased and moved in. It sits in the living room, near my mother's rug and well watered plants. A coffee table we disagree about whether or not it's the right choice for this room. There wasn't enough room on the floor between the couch and the table, so part of me is thinking about how I won that discussion and why I am on the couch at all. 

I want to talk about face slapping. 

It's a kink, lots of people have it. It's degrading, it's humiliating, it's painful. It potentially tells the word things you don't always want them to know, or at least you don't want them to ask about. It hasn't been a really big part of my kink, because the world didn't need to know that part of me. It was important to keep it away from the outside world because reasons. Those reasons are fewer now and maybe I just don't give as much of a shit. 

But I still don't like it. That's inaccurate. I don't like it, but I have an appreciation for it that I didn't before. The fact that I don't like it but it is quick, it is easy, and it is also those other things, make it valuable. It tells me that I am not, that I am below, that I am locked down, owned, and not autonomous.

It means something. In a world when most things are meaningless, arbitrary, erotic for unknown reasons, it means something. And the small twisted part of me is waiting for you to use it.