The Carer

In a marriage, a particular dynamic between the two people quickly falls into place. And, as Sir J mentioned in a recent post, one person in that marriage tends to be the driving force of the relationship. I have read that one person tends to love the other more, and this plays an important part in the dynamics formed, as well.

I was a quiet child and went about my life in a contained sort of way; school, piano, dance. I wanted to go onto university, to the best university, and I worked away at achieving that goal. I never really confronted or went into conflict with anyone at all. I accepted their needs, the needs of my family, and I just went about achieving my goal in that landscape. I simply don't like confrontation and I live and let live.

When I married we went overseas immediately, for my husband's work. He says that if I had not met him, I might have married someone more conventional; an accountant or a lawyer, or perhaps a university professor. It is true that I was too quiet of a person to travel on my own, and travelling may not have come to my life until later.

The truth is that I was never particularly ambitious for myself. To their credit, my teachers encouraged me to choose a career path, for it was obvious that I had the mind to achieve that. Yet, already I was yearning for some sort of stability in my life other than that. Of course, I did choose a career path, but not one that would make difficult having a husband and children. I suppose we either raise our children as we have been raised, or the exact opposite. In my case, I wanted to give my children what I did not have; the attention of their parents.

Almost from the moment we married, and even before that, I fell into the role of caregiver and supporter. It was my husband's career that was important. If he needed to travel overseas, then that is where we would go. If he needed to work into the night, so it would be. Domesticity became my realm and without any real discussion, it was my responsibility to cook, to clean, to do the laundry and the dishes.

In the same way, he quickly fell into the role of the money maker and he shouldered those responsibilities for me; largely. He was intensely ambitious and so, if he needed time to himself to study or work, I enabled that.

A few decades on, he remains totally engaged in his projects, of various kinds. I continue to enable that by looking after all the other matters; the children's school needs, the dinner, the ironing, the cleaning, the errands and so forth.

But, in middle age, there is a little rustle in the wind and I have a need to lift off from the ground. I've done my duty. I've been in service to my family, my husband and my children, for a very long time. I need to be considered as an individual with needs of my own. I want, for short spaces of time, to leave the 'caring' role and to be cared for.

How does one care for a women like me, you ask? Well, you could chain me to the bath tub. That would be particularly nice. And, while I soaked in the bubbles and my mind luxuriated in the freedom of those chains, you could make me an omelet with a little salad on the side. That's not hard to do, surely! Or, you could tie me up, naked, on the bed and leave me alone for an hour whilst you go off and do some work and I wait for you to return. That would be a treat. You could do something to me, for me! You could just make it happen.

For you see, if I ask you to make it happen, the magic has gone. You have to love me enough, care for me enough, to make it happen. So, you can't take me on a lovely holiday to see places in the world I want to see! Okay. I'm a realist. I accept it. But, you can love me in small ways and in those ways, you can resuscitate me so that I can support your life, as you wish.

A dominant man must be sure not to be domineering. A submissive woman such as me has a great deal to give. But, she gets tired and lonely, just like any other woman. A kinky treat every now and then, however, will restore her heart.

Again, the dynamic will be just right for the both of them.