I couple of weeks ago I was at a BDSM event, just hanging out with friends, watching people play and enjoying conversations.

I went to the bar to grab another beer and a woman dressed in latex approached me.

At first I was a bit surprised. It’s rare that someone will just start talking to me out of nowhere. It’s possible that this is because I clearly have the strength of ten men and always look so very intimidating.

The conversation went a little like this:

Her-Someone told me you were an excellent slave.

Me-Really? I’m not sure who would have told you that since I’ve never been owned by anyone, but..ok.

Her- Be a good slave and buy me a drink, maybe later I’ll let you worship my feet.

Me- Well, you know, I’m not submissive to just anyone.

Her- I don’t let just anyone worship me.

Me- You’re kind to offer but I’m afraid I’ll need to pass.

Her- You’re not much of a slave are you?

Me- I’m not a slave at all for someone who doesn’t deserve it.

Instead of sounding coy I sounded harsh. It came out meaner than I meant but I was OK with that. I stood there for a minute, waited for my beer and joined my friends.   

I realized that, had she asked me a year ago, I would have bought her that drink, she probably would have ignored me for the rest of the night anyway unless she needed another drink. I wished she had asked differently, maybe I would have made a new friend out of it.

I told my story to another submissive guy at the party and he asked if I could point her out to him. I did and he ran off to go ask if she needed a drink. She gave him her oder and sure enough she ignored him for the rest of the night.

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June 10th has been a bad day for me for many many years.

It was the day I got married.   

Don’t get me wrong, the day of the marriage and the one year anniversary were great! But since she left me shortly after the first anniversary, it’s always been a hard day for me.   

Except this year.

Let me back up and give a little history.

My ex leaving me really messed me up. I was out of commission for almost two years. Just worked and worked and worked. No sex no dating no anything.

Then it got better and only really hurt on the anniversary. I’d need to take the day off of work three years in a row.

Then it got better and I could still go to work but I’d cry at the beginning or end of the day.

This year though, even though I dreaded it’s arrival. Nothing No tears.

In fact I cheered when I realized that I hadn’t even sniffled once over it.

Sure it still stings to think about it but it’s nothing like it was before. It’s more like a dull ache rather than a sharp pain.

Waiting up naked and cuddling helped I’m sure. But outside of that, it’s nice to know there’s measurable healing.

Maybe next year I won’t even think to write about it.

Emotional progress.

And it only took eight years.