Owned

It is a very novel experience to be holidaying on my own in a foreign country. I am staying with my daughter but I have seen very little of her so far as she has a rather long working day, but time together is on its way. Some holidays have been approved and we have two long weekends together to look forward to.

I am tickled pink to be able to report that I not only met an online friend for the very first time but I met my first online friend, the charming Abel of Spanking Writers and his delightful wife, Haron for lunch yesterday.

I contacted Abel some years ago now asking him if he might like to swap notes and explain a few things to me, back when I was as green as grass to all things kink and being the gentleman that he is, he kindly obliged. We don't correspond all that regularly but I have always known that if I need advice, Abel is merely an email away. So, it was not at all a surprise to me to find that he is just as delightful, sweet, friendly and helpful in person as he is online.

Being able to speak to someone in person, other than my husband, just as I am completely was pure gold. We chatted away as very dear friends and whilst the conversations moved from topic to topic, we effortlessly moved over topics that I could never have done with my vanilla friends. I hadn't realized how liberating that was going to feel.

And now, another opportunity comes along and a reader is meeting me for a drink and a stroll around Hyde Park. I need to pinch myself to believe this is happening. Not to mention that I have been invited to a gathering of kinky people next week. It is all so very exciting!

I've just said goodbye to my husband on Skype telling him of all my news and I told him how lovely it feels to be "owned" and he said to me it is lovely for him to be an "owner".

We never know why things happen as they do but the lovemaking that occurred in the 24 hours before we left was as sweet and complete as any love making has ever been between us. Perhaps, we knew it had to be good to last two weeks or more. Perhaps, it is our time in the sun to luxuriate and radiate in the mysteries of each other and of life itself. As we said to one another, "good things come to those who wait".

I am very happy; adoring the time to go at my own pace, to explore and to have an adventure. It is all the more wonderful to me because as I go about London on my own, marvelling at it all, I know in my heart and my soul that I am an owned girl and a very loved owned girl at that. It just doesn't get any better than that.

High maintenance doll

It has been a particularly busy few months with my husband barely at home these days and my trip away imminent. With only one adult at home, many tasks inevitably fell to me, many of which I hate to do because they are of a technical nature and I am finding it a bit like learning a foreign language. I have to keep learning the jargon to understand what people are saying to me and take my ‘best guess’ as to what sort of response I should give them.

The situation has dynamically changed because whereas my husband wanted to make these choices and decisions in the past and I would need to confer with him, now he pushes me to just get things done the best way I can.

This situation is not conducive to the dolli state of mind and I find myself going through a transition period where I am riling against being given this latitude. Suddenly, *I* have to deal with the techno heads, or the car repair people getting quotes for a silly person that banged into the back of my car, or for getting international roaming on my phone (I still don’t know if that actually went through since another sim card was declined) and it became impossible for me to hold my temper with the young man in the store and the woman on the phone who more or less just wished me luck with the situation, unable to figure what, if anything, went wrong with the long process.

As I stood in line at American Express waiting my turn to buy some English pounds, I tried my yoga deep breathing and asked myself, “Why are you so darn worked up about doing these chores yourself?”

I read a book a few months ago that spoke to the notion that we think of love in various ways. Some of us see being given things as love and others of us like me see service and time spent together as their preferred way of receiving love. When I send an email to my husband explaining that something needs to be done and he shoots back an email to me to just attend to it myself, I see that (and I know this is very irrational) as not loving me.

One email after another, one phone call after another, telling me to attend to things myself and just to go ahead without consultation with him is proving to be painful because it feels like rejection/lack of love.

At the time of reading the book, ‘The Five Love Languages” by Gary Chapman, I told my husband about the results in my case and he laughed and said that it made sense now – how much I get out of him doing a task for me and spending quality time with just me.

Both of those things are sorely lacking in my life at this time. Honestly, I don’t think he has the time to do anything about it right now, even if he remembered how this sort of thing effects me – not only doing the tasks he usually does himself or that I used to do with his consultation, but going to big events at school on my own, to dinner parties on my own, to bed on my own...

Now, I am about to travel on my own. I am thrilled at the opportunity to do so of course but I also look forward to some quality time with my husband too when we can just relax and luxuriate in each other with our phones turned off and nothing that we need to do for a few days or so. We are very overdue for that. I guess I am just at that moment in time when I wonder if all the work to get away is worth the effort.

But, it is of course very much worth the effort and especially so when I fix eyes on my darling daughter who will be waiting at Heathrow Airport to fetch me. What a ball we shall have with all of London to ourselves!

I am slightly disturbed to realize that the ‘bimbo’ tag really does apply to me in so many ways. I want an “owner” in more ways than one. Perhaps it is not meant to be so, but this dolli is ‘high maintenance’. Hmmmm. Oh well, you get what you pay for, right? If you want a very nice doll, that doesn’t come for free! (Yes, I did giggle when I wrote that.) I may be able to drop in here whilst away. Aeroplane trips do that to me. Be well. Stay safe.

Agnes - in the afternoon

Agnes was quietly pleased that Frederick approved of what she had prepared for their lunch. She thought of him as a man with sophisticated tastes and she held onto a concern that she may act inappropriately or that he would see her as childish or ignorant. It meant a lot to her that she had pleased him. She smiled and hoped to give the impression that whilst she was pleased he was pleased, it was no big deal; that she could rise to his challenges; that she was capable.

Agnes watched Frederick stretch out on the blanket and she followed his lead. She stretched out on her side facing him and rested her head on her curled arms. They chatted a little about nothing in particular when Agnes quietly giggled at Frederick’s incoherent response. Rather than just not reply to her comment in his nearly asleep state, he mumbled a string of jumbled words back to her.

For a few minutes, Agnes watched him sleep. He seemed a little vulnerable laid out on the blanket, breathing deep and completely unaware of her as he was; his mouth wide open. She felt softly towards him as she studied his features; the way his lips quivered a little as his breathing went in and out; how his hands rested on his chest.

Agnes tried to nap a little herself. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sun on the side of her face. In this public place however, she could not abandon herself to sleep and after a few minutes of just laying there doing nothing she decided to walk whilst he slept. As quietly as a mouse so as not to disturb Frederick she got up off the blanket and took a tour of the gardens, gravitating towards the spot where Frederick had earlier told her off for wandering away. She wanted to explore beyond that spot but the memory of his scolding returned to her and she decided not to proceed.

Agnes loved to be by water; the beach, a lake; even a bath. She heard the sounds of a small waterfall and decided to investigate the pond. She was delighted to find an assortment of fish swimming about in the pond, some surprisingly large. She sat for a while watching them swim before she strolled about the garden, returning back to the blanket every now and then to see if Frederick had woken.

When thirst overcame her she ever so quietly collected the picnic basket from their blanket, took it over to a seat and poured herself a glass of water. She was just putting the water bottle and glass away when she heard Frederick call out to her. He was asking her where she had been and feeling relaxed and happy she began to tell him about what she had seen, but he wasn’t interested.

“I am very disappointed in your behaviour...” she heard him say, and she felt immediately frustrated that she just didn’t understand Frederick’s responses. He was confusing her.

“But, Frederick, I just walked there by the little pond.”

This did not appease him and Agnes remained confused, hurt even, but her instincts told her to apologize in order to bring this scolding to an end. Even her apology was not to his liking. Apologizing was “not good enough” he said and added that when she was with him she was to follow his instructions.

Agnes was challenged by these words. He was sounding like her father on those occasions when she had arrived home late and she didn’t leave home to come to Paris only to have a man she had barely just met speak to her in a way that made her feel like a child when she wasn’t even sure what she had done wrong. Why was he making this fuss about such a tiny thing?

“I don’t understand why you are being so mean. Would you rather I leave?” she asked him. If she was making so many mistakes with him perhaps it was best she go home, she thought. She felt quite disoriented.

Agnes watched in shock as Frederick untied the rope around her waist and cut it into equal pieces. She was speechless.

“Sit down on the bench.”

Agnes could feel her eyes start to tear up but the last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of Frederick. She had no desire for him to have the satisfaction of seeing that he had upset her and her upset feelings transcribed into defiance.

“No!"

There was a standoff between them as both of them looked into one another’s eyes trying to gauge the other’s resolve and state of mind. When Agnes dug in her heels, Frederick made the concession of asking her to please sit down. At this point, Agnes decided to sit down but she was still unhappy about it.

“Are you going to do as you are told?”

Agnes didn’t want to leave and if she was to stay she understood that she needed to do things his way. He had made it very clear to her that he was in control. She nodded her consent. Just before Frederick removed a bandana and placed it over Agnes’ eyes and tied it tight with three knots at the back of her head, he asked her to “trust” him.

There was something in the lilt of his voice when he said those words that helped Agnes to relax and to follow Frederick’s lead. Her breathing was settling now and her anger was replaced by arousal. Without the sense of sight, she immediately became aware of Frederick’s voice and all the sounds that were surrounding her; the slightest movement in the trees.

He wanted to know if the bandana was comfortable and he told her in advance that he was going to bind her legs and wrists. As the rope was wound around her body, between her thighs and knees and around her wrists, Agnes found herself enjoying the experience more than she could have ever imagined. There was an element of fear, of humiliation and of arousal and put together Agnes found herself in a state of resignation; almost as if she had been captured in some way and that thought was incredibly appealing to her. She dared not allow Frederick to know how much she was enjoying this situation.

When Frederick asked her to put her hands behind her back however, she resisted. It was a battle of wills between them as he pushed her further and further, but each time she eventually acquiesced. When he was ready he told her to sit completely still and to be absolutely silent. This she could do but when he told her that he was leaving her on her own for a time, her sense of vulnerability forced her to beg him not to leave her alone.

“Please don’t leave me on my own; not like this,” she begged him.

Again, Frederick asked her to trust him and again, this quietened her fractious mind for a while. Yet, the time alone seemed indeterminable. It was probably only a few minutes that she sat there still, unable to see or to move, wondering if anyone was looking at her, directly or from behind a bush. For an instant she wondered if Frederick had abandoned her, or if he planned to leave there for a very long time. She didn’t know where he was, what he was doing and when he would return.

Agnes began to feel very hot and uncomfortable. She felt the need to make the best use possible of her ears and she strained forward and focussed intently for any sound at all that might alert her to what was happening beyond the world of her darkness and imprisonment.

When Agnes heard Frederick’s voice again telling her to remain still but that he was going to untie her hands, she felt an enormous sense of relief that he had returned to her. He was telling her that she would feel some movement, to not be alarmed, to stay still and now that Frederick had returned she was in no doubt that she could comply with his instructions.

She was really listening to his words this time and paying attention to his instructions. He told her not to be alarmed and so she programmed that as understanding that there was no danger and that whatever was happening, she could manage, so long as Frederick was there. She allowed her mouth to unclench and she relaxed her tongue. She did her best to let herself go and put herself in his hands.

“Everything is under control. I have the situation completely in hand,” she heard him say and this put her mind at ease. In the same way that she entered an aeroplane and put her life in the hands of the pilot, allowing herself to settle into the role of one of his responsibilities, so she put her life now in the hands of Frederick. In that role of submitting to a force higher than herself, she felt at peace.

When Frederick took the blindfold away from Agnes’ eyes and told her that she could open her eyes, she had no idea what to expect. When she saw in front of her at very close range a large black cat, a tigress she froze in fear of what could possibly happen next. Her mind went blank and now her brain was responding only to self preservation instincts. She stayed completely immobile because it seemed the best option.

Agnes would have been petrified but for Frederick’s complete lack of concern, his light banter and encouragement to reach out and touch the cat. It helped her immensely that he was rubbing into her tight neck and shoulder muscles, too. Put together, Agnes registered that this was in no way a dangerous situation, even though she remained frightened.

He encouraged her to reach out and touch the cat, sliding his hand down her arm to persuade her to move it forward to touch the cat. Agnes’ family had always had at least one cat at home and she was familiar with what they liked. Tentatively, she brought her hand forward and rubbed it into the fur, and then when she could see that the cat had no objection, she rubbed it behind the ear; a move which was much enjoyed judging by the deep rumble coming from her chest.

Frederick was smiling, clearly pleased that the two of them had an appreciation for one another and Frederick chatted away softly, explaining that since he had introduced Agnes to Sheaden in his company, there was no risk. But, if she had gone off on her own and come across her, she would have not had the same reaction to her at all; that as long as Agnes was in Frederick’s company, Agnes did not present as a threat.

For several minutes Frederick sat on the bench beside Agnes and seemed to enjoy the two girls’ interacting with one another. He was smiling and there was pride in his eyes. They were a delight to watch as they frolicked with one another and Agnes appeared totally relaxed and calm around Sheadan now.

It was Frederick who finally said that it was time for Sheadan to go back to her shed now; that he would take Agnes for some dinner and return her home. Agnes said good bye to the cat and watched Frederick walk her back to her home. She had a sense that Frederick was a man who could expose her to a great many new experiences. The thought enticed her and she hoped that very soon he would begin to teach her things and show her things. She didn’t know what she meant really. She knew very little about what was on offer to her. All she knew was that she was open to experiencing whatever he should choose to offer her.

The Subjugation Trap

I am learning a great deal about myself at the present time and how to be a healthy and happy submissive. I am taking the time to chronicle that process here for those people who may benefit from my experiences.

Cognitive behaviour therapy, the only therapy now subsidised by the Australian Government does not focus or allow the time to get into childhood experiences in any great detail, but an article my psychologist gave me at the end of our last session asks the reader to roam over the experience of childhood subjugation.

“Self-sacrificers feel responsible for the well-being of others. As a child, you may have experienced too much responsibility for the physical or emotional welfare of a parent, sister, brother or some other close person...a parent who was chronically ill or depressed. In doing so, you neglect yourself...You are empathic...You feel the pain of others and want to ease their pain...Whoever subjugated you as a child did not force you to do what he or she wanted. Rather, because they were in pain or especially weak, you felt that their needs took precedence over yours.”

I related to those words in a profound way and many memories came back to me, making me realize that I had indeed decided many times over in my life that I needed to be strong and to put my needs aside. In fact, I think I was very good at convincing myself that my needs were being met when in fact I had barely ever explored in my own mind what my needs really looked like.

Eventually, the fact that my needs were not being met led to what I thought was post-natal depression after the birth of my fourth child. In fact, it was more likely a general depression from the extremely high workload, lack of assistance and my inability to express that my needs as an individual simply were not being met.

I feel sure that I made efforts to express the fact that I was feeling snowed under and unhappy but there is no doubt that my “self sacrificing” mode of operating did not allow for me or anyone else to find satisfactory solutions to the immensely busy timetable, the tiredness and the sense that life had become not much more than drudgery. I remember walking into the laundry and seeing all that had to be done and having an image of setting out to climb Mount Everest. I felt I had a Herculean task in front of me.

As much as someone is loved, if they are prepared to “self-sacrifice”, people will allow that; even people who love them. It truly is up to each individual, I have learned through therapy, to establish their needs in their own mind and to express those needs.

Over time, I did what self sacrificers eventually do: I got mad. For a time there, I felt very angry quite a good deal of the time. I didn’t understand why those who loved me were treating me so badly, at the same time as I was unprepared to express what I needed from them.

I’d get mad, eventually blow up and then I would feel guilty that I blew up and I’d go back to being my self-sacrificing self.

“It is part of the subjugation lifetrap for you to believe it is somehow wrong for you to express your needs...Until you become more assertive, anger will continue to be a significant problem for you, even if you are not always aware of its harmful consequences.”

When I finally expressed my needs to my husband several years ago – when I told him that he had married a very kinky girl with particular needs – a lot of my despair evaporated overnight.

Yet, the “self-sacrificing” went on and I continued to believe that I should not really air my own views, opinions and needs. Life seemed to flow better when I acquiesced and I think I thought it was noble to acquiesce, in any case. I think it made me feel a good person.

“In subjugation, there are almost no strong opinions across the board. Whether the issues are big or small – no matter what is at stake – in subjugation there is no strong sense of self.”

Of course, you know that I do have strong opinions because I air them here, with friends and family. But, it is true that I signed documents in the past even though I vehemently disagreed with the decisions being made. I expressed my views but not assertively. I definitely didn’t stand up for myself and what I believed to be right. I relinquished my right to have a say in my own life.

The code of D/s is that the submissive has the right to express herself (or himself) politely but that ultimately, the Dominant will have the deciding vote. Quite honestly, I barely raised an objection at the time. My husband had no real idea of the extreme discomfort under my skin until it was a done deal and I did us all a huge disservice to not express my opinions loud and clear.

This is now water under the bridge. I am now self-aware and I understand where I went wrong. When I told my psychologist that I really, really wanted to visit my daughter over Easter (an ideal time for many reasons) she wanted to make that happen. I told her I thought it was “too late”, an excuse I have often made before as I put my needs lowest on the list.

But, I did go home and think about it and I rang my husband to say that I felt I had made a gross error in judgement; that all my instincts were telling me to go to London and spend a few weeks with our daughter at this time. Within a few days, my husband had bought me a ticket and my daughter was absolutely elated about it. For once, I had expressed a need and a desire: quietly, calmly, simply and directly and my husband responded to that; no questions asked.

Of course, we can’t always have we want and desire. Yet, we can’t get what we want, need and desire unless we are willing to end the subjugation trap and express ourselves. I have heard and read so many submissive women say that they find asking for something almost impossible. I was one of them. I know better now. I may not always get what I want or get it when I want it, but it won’t stop me from being assertive enough to ask now, directly and politely.

There is nothing about being a submissive to a dominant that does not allow someone to ask for what they believe they need, or to express their view about any matter that is pertinent to them. Frankly, I think it would be a relief to the vast majority of dominants if submissives did express themselves in this way. It doesn’t change the fact that they are in control but if does allow them to control in full knowledge of the submissive’s mind.

When the subjugation trap is understood, a giving person continues to give but as well, she (or he) asks that she be given in return. There is balance. There is a healthy relationship.

My psychologist is very respectful of the dynamic between my husband and myself but she wanted me to be aware of the “subjugation trap”. It is vital that submissives learn to ask for what they need. A good dominant will consider what the submissive has to say and take it into account when making a determination. Given the dynamic we have chosen, asking is paramount and hopefully, what is given shall be returned in spades.

Pain and punishment

I am actually working flat chat right now with no time to spare, but a couple of migraine headaches in the past week has forced me to slow down and thus I found myself having a read of new blog posts on my blog roll this evening for a bit of light entertainment. I happened to notice Pygar’s ‘pain and punishment’ and had a good ole read there. Why is that topic so endlessly fascinating to me, I’d like to know?! I left Pygar a comment – thoughts on the top of my head and the tip of my tongue - and then I thought it might be fun to elaborate on them a bit here.

A good many submissives have an innate understanding, perhaps learned through experience that the Dominant is often not just playing around. He really does want the submissive to learn to do things his way and if she doesn’t do things his way, she may well find herself being corrected in a way that will be memorable and unpleasant. Even in the most relaxed of situations, and I think of my husband and I as fairly relaxed about D/s in the sense that there are very few ‘rules’ per se, he expects that I will behave in a way that accepts that we have a certain dynamic and when push comes to shove, he’s the boss.

This dynamic is always there but I think there is just something or other in the makeup of the submissive mind that feels obliged to test out the Dominant from time to time. For example, my husband had been away for 5 weeks when he arrived home last Friday night and proceeded to have his way with me. It is what I wanted. Desperately. And yet, there came a moment when I said, “I’m not sure that this is appropriate. Shouldn’t we just cuddle a while?”

If he’d ‘wimped out’ on me I would have been a mess but true to form he upped the tempo and therein he assured me that he was the boss and that I had better just toe the line; fast! Perfect. That is just how I needed it to go. I wasn’t manipulating him. I didn’t plan it to be that way but my mind simply had to know if he was still up to the task of being the guy I needed. In this way, I think women sometimes misbehave because they need to see the outcome of the misbehaviour and if that is pain and punishment, so be it.

However one plays out ‘pain and punishment’ it seems to come down to issues of the dynamic between the two people. I made the comment on Pygar’s page that I dance with the Dom according to well learned steps. Once that dynamic is well in place, there seems less and less need to try to alter those steps. One can perhaps move in different ways but if it is a tango, it is a tango and if it is a waltz, it’s a waltz. One can move around the dance floor as the mood takes one, but one still has to use the appropriate steps.

My dynamic with my mentor, as an example, is clear. There is a degree of respect inbuilt into the dynamic and we never deviate from that. Well, I did once, unwittingly. It was one of those moments in life when one of my buttons had been pressed and I reacted fast and furious. My reply dripped with sarcasm but I was too busy being incensed to even take that in. I soon learned that sarcasm was completely and utterly unacceptable to him.

Did I learn because I was corrected or because he was so very clearly upset with me? Well, I’d say it was both. Bottom line, I recognized that my behaviour should never, ever be repeated and I have not had the slightest desire to ever put that to the test. It was a step I was unsure about. We stopped. He intervened, taught me the step in slow motion such that I would always have that step down and we moved on. I must say that I approve of this method. I like learning how to dance well. It is comforting and reassuring to walk out on that dance floor and have the confidence to dance well.

Over time, my husband and I have done all sorts of things; a few daily swats, a weekly correction, punishment for misbehaviour and fairly long bouts where our dynamic has no punishment or real pain at all. They have all had their place in our lives as we evolve. But I think most of all, I want to be thought of as “good”; as knowing what he wants and fitting snugly into my place underneath his wing. I just want to be loved; turned on; aroused, pleasing.

Sometimes, that means there is pain and sometimes that even means there is some form of punishment; or both. But, at the end of the day it is about getting that feeling of ownership that reminds me that I am one of the lucky ones: owned; cherished; much loved.

Like sister, like brother

I only have one sibling; a younger brother. Growing up, our parents were often unavailable to us and it made us close emotionally even though we had very different interests. I would often find him cuddled up beside me in my bed when I woke up because he was afraid of the dark and would come to me. Over the years we have stayed in close touch but we don’t see each other often due to geographical issues and our form of contact these days is mostly email and Skype.

This morning he Skyped me to say that he had returned back to Australia safely and for the very first time ever in our lives somehow or other we were talking about our childhood. He made a statement that floored me. I found myself reading, “My therapist felt that Mum didn’t give me enough affection.” And then I found myself saying, “I am seeing my psychologist this afternoon.” “Really?” he asked. “I am going to call you.” A few moments later I heard my mobile ring and therein began a conversation that I think neither of us ever expected that we would have.

We were in complete agreement. We had been loved without a shadow of a doubt but we had also not been privy to anything close to a normal childhood. Our parents’ behaviour had in no way been callous but it had been neglectful and we had been forced to admit that it had left us with some scars.

In my brother’s case it had compromised his sense of belonging and in my case it had compromised my sense of safety and security. In both cases we determined, quite separately, to create our own families. We both married young and we both had a fairly big family and we both put a lot into raising our children well.

Both of our voices broke as we shared what it had been like for us – virtually no celebration of Christmas or birthdays, working on public holidays, virtually no family holidays, my brother having to mind the business whilst my parents went away, my brother being encouraged to leave school and work the family business, my desires to go to university being criticized; being brought up by one Italian woman during the day and another at night without family meals; not actually having a family home but living within the business establishment with little privacy or security.

We talked about how impossible it remains to have a sense of family – my mother continues to try to avoid Christmas celebrations, actually planning a trip this year at that time to avoid it altogether, and although she is happy to send a cheque to my children on their birthday or at Christmas, she does not see it as appropriate that she should visit them on their special day or share Christmas with them. A sporting commitment meant that she avoided attending Grandparents Day at school with my youngest son last year, a situation that cut deep with me.

My brother is at a loss as to why my mother will not call him and insists that he call her. I encourage them both to call one another but the situation remains rather tense, particularly because he feels that he can only give her good news. It is true that she finds any problems troubling and it has seemed easier to assure her over the years that everything is brilliant rather than burden her.

Yet, the love is there in spades. I know that my mother loves us very much and wants only the best for us. It is just that she is not willing to alter anything in her life to make that happen. She is generous without question but not with her time or with herself. I guess you could say that our parents desperately wanted children but not the responsibilities of bringing up children.

My brother and I agreed and were adamant about the fact that we don’t hold the slightest resentment towards our parents. We have got on with our lives, forged our sense of identity with partners and had long, successful marriages. We belong to our partners and our partners belong to us and that is our sense of belonging.

My brother explained to my why he married the girl he did. Her mother is virtually identical to my mother in how she raised her children, what she was prepared to give of herself and the environment as well. When they met, they understood one another and what they needed. I finally understood my brother and his wife and how that relationship worked. I always knew that she needed my brother to the exclusion of almost anything else. I now understood that he was prepared to have this tight bond with her because they both needed that. He is very clearly the leader, the dominant of the relationship and she his submissive. I had understood her needs but I wasn’t quite sure why he needed such a girl. Now, I do.

It is a huge thing for me to write down these statements on paper – to finally understand myself in the context of how I was raised and to understand that my only sibling who was raised right beside me has needs not dissimilar to mine.

We seek an extremely strong bond to our partner. It is how we know who we are and where we belong. It is how we feel loved and secure. We not only want a life partner but someone who completes us, who needs us, and whom we need. We need someone to envelop us, to speak a secret language that only we understand (they too have a secret language he told me), and to always be there for us; come what may.

I am happy to say that we both chose the perfect partners for us; with the mirror image of our own particular needs. His wife has a submissive nature. My husband has a dominant nature. For both of us, our partners have filled the gaps and keep us whole.

The greatest thing you'll ever learn

The heartbeat of an endearing and enduring relationship is a love for one another that runs deep. Deeper than those momentary little frustrations of life that we all experience in our contact with a partner must lie a love that is steady, constant and stronger than any other emotion. Love is the cement of a marriage or long lasting relationship and provides the foundation to be able to endure any number of missteps along the way. At least, that is my experience.

It has been said that “the greatest thing you could ever learn is to love and to be loved in return” and I agree. I want to adore someone and I want them to adore me as well. I want to care for someone and I want them to care for me back. I want to live my life devoted to someone and I want him to devote himself to me. I have always wanted this and continue to want this more than any other thing in life.

As it happens, when I keep this thought front and centre in my life, all other aspects of life fall into place. I have a clear head about what I should think, what I should do and how I should do it. In return, I feel how I want to feel which is cherished; loved; adored.

There are a great many complicating factors in a life and a life lived together with another human being and our web journal entries are testament to that. At the end of the day if we hold onto this one thought – that the goal is to love and to be loved in return – it is amazing how very simple things become and how rich and beautiful this world appears to the beholder of love.