Radiant as the Sun



I am still trying to get a handle on all of this.

I am one of those pathetic girls, staring blankly ahead, saying “I don’t understand. I just don’t understand.”

In my head, in the logical part of my brain where facts reign supreme, I know it was not me–it was him.

He wanted to do whatever he wanted, and have me go along with it.

He called me crazy, because I was upset, and he didn’t want me to be.

I know this.

But the rest of me…the part that has been ripped into a billion pieces and left for wild animals to pick over…doesn’t get it.

It’s like having a great conversation with a good friend who, out of nowhere, punches you in the face.

It’s like flying on a reputable airline and having a good natured flight attendant pick you up, kicking and screaming, and hoist you through a window into free fall.

It’s like floating lazily down a river and being suddenly sucked into a whirlpool, gasping for breath, fighting for life.

It’s like none of those things. Because I saw it coming. I saw. I just couldn’t accept it. His misogynistic comments about other women made me feel like I was on the inside–like he would never tell me about those things if he was going to do it to me. Like I was above all of that–special.

He said he loved me, and then he didn’t anymore.

I know that the fact is, he never loved me. It was never true.

But the way he held me, looked at me, spoke to me…

Did I drive him away?

Why couldn’t I just have sucked it up?

Why couldn’t I just have taken it? Been submissive? Known that scraps are better than starvation?

Bad thinking. This is bad thinking. A submissive, despite what he says, is a person, not a thing.

He gave me nothing.

He was willing to spend on me. He was willing to give time as long as it didn’t interfere with whatever else he wanted to be doing. He was willing to fuck me silly because HE wanted to be fucked silly. He was willing to take me out and show me off so that he could feel like a stud. But giving isn’t giving if he isn’t willing to actually sacrifice. Giving isn’t giving if it doesn’t actually cost anything.

All I wanted was his time. His reassurance. For my place to be real, but he couldn’t do that.

I have met with two other Doms in the past little while. I met with them because they were specifically looking for secondary baby girls and I knew I wasn’t going to do that, so it seemed harmless. It distracted me, got me out of the house, and gave me people to hang out with.

The one would like to get together again, but he can’t this week. Why not? Because his young one has been out of town, and he is going to “fuck her for a week straight” now that she is home.

The second one would like to continue to hang out, but won’t if his baby girl is uncomfortable with it.

They are out there–Daddies who actually consider their baby girls more important than getting their dick inside as many chicks as possible.

They are out there–Doms who understand that while they call the shots, their love for their little one dictates that they put her first.

I applauded them both. I may have actually clapped. Good for you. Do it right. LOVE her. Make her happy. Understand that your power does not make her less of a person.

So why is it that I cannot stop questioning myself? Feeling like I am the reason why I cannot get a Dom to stick it out? Why do I feel like I need to delete his number from my phone so that I will not contact him? Why do I feel like if it hadn’t been for Jailbait, we could have been so happy? We could have gone for 20 years, like he said he wanted to? Because I would have. I would have gone for 20 years. But if it hadn’t been her, it would have been someone else.

He lied to Yoga Girl. He lied to The Girlfriend. And he lied to me. But I was the one who got thrown out, because I caught him. I called him on it. I wouldn’t let it go. I wouldn’t lay down and die.

It’s not him, it’s me.

It’s me.

Because I am a person.

Because I deserve more.

Because despite the fact that I worshipped him like I worship the sun, I could not allow this.

I didn’t come first, but that’s okay, because I put myself first.

I am my own light. My own warmth. My own sun.

11 Comments on “Radiant as the Sun”

  1. sylviagrimes says:

    OMG! I wish I could tell you how much of this I feel… I might have left him, but I feel all of these things… a lot of them _still._ Even right up to “If it hadn’t been for that narcissistic wench he started seeing months after me, we could have been happy!” Seriously. We would never have been happy. It isn’t her. He lied to her, he lied to me, he lied to the other girl he screwed on the side, and he lied to and hid from the rest of us _another woman_ who he said he wasn’t seeing anymore! AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!

    Sorry. I just want to hug you.

    • Again, so sorry that you relate. It is a truly devastating place to be–to know that, flat out, you loved the wrong person. You just loved the wrong person. It was his decisions that did this, not her existence. She doesn’t get to choose how he behaves, only he can do that.

      It is easy to know, but hard to believe, but that doesn’t change the facts–it was them. It wasn’t us. *hugs*

  2. plantpage says:

    You still did the right thing. Hold your head high.

  3. ekidon says:

    I’ve been devastated by my babygirl from the long tall tales as well. Honesty should be expected in an relationship but especially d/s. I would have given her the moon and all the things she said she wanted. It’s a two way street. Be careful little ones.

  4. I wrote about this same thing here:
    and here:

    There are just some men who do this to women like us. But yes, it is him, not us. The Monk is still writing drivel about loving everyone and generosity and it takes all of the strength I can muster not to expose him for writing such hypocrisy. One of the last things he said to me is that he doesn’t want to give me any hope. Can you imagine? A Buddhist monk that doesn’t want to give me hope.
    What an ass. Meanwhile he’s got another little girl under his wing helping him at Dharma School. He cast me aside like yesterday’s trash. And I am just sitting and waiting for her to fuck him over.
    But I digress. Yes, you deserve more. You are worthy of more. Be patient.

    • Thank you. As much as it sucks that there are so many of us going through this, it helps to know that I am not alone. I came up with a mantra today:
      “It doesn’t matter what he says. It doesn’t matter what he thinks. It doesn’t matter what he does. He’s not the kind of man you need in your life.”
      He is just a human man, and not a decent one at that.
      I didn’t share all the details of how he treated me, what he did to me, the absolute coldness and lack of care he showed me…
      but I do not need someone like that in my life–and you don’t either.
      I worshipped him like he was the sun, but he is not the sun. My bad.

  5. At least you never have to see him again. The Monk runs the Sunday school at my temple that my daughter attends. I have to see him every time she goes. The last time I went, I was coming up the stairs and he was walking down; he saw me and quite literally stopped in his tracks, stunned by how pretty I am. He stood there for a few seconds staring at me with his big brown eyes that were begging for forgiveness before asking if he could hug me. Three days later I was telling him to fuck off again.
    The whole thing is a big hot mess. Meanwhile I’ve got another lover who doesn’t seem to understand that I am married and that I cannot be his full-time girlfriend.
    I need to let them both go and be alone for awhile. The problem is there are already two others in line. I don’t know how to be alone. Or monogamous.

    • I feel your pain, girlfriend.
      I seriously think the few of us should start up a group–working on the logistics 🙂

      I am scared to see him again, honestly. I work in the neighbourhood where he lives and works, I pass his condo and his favourite hang-outs every. single. day. My eyes are permanently scanning every area I know he might be, just waiting to catch a glimpse of him and feel like I’ve been punched in the gut.

      I worry about running into him at a restaurant or a bar or on the street. I worry that he will be with The Girlfriend, or Jailbait, and I will be alone. I worry that I will start to cry (though I’m feeling more contempt today, but it comes and goes) and he will just stand there staring at me, cold like I’ve never seen him before.

      I worry that he will smile and blow a kiss and grab the ass of whoever he is with, and that I will be shell-shocked and unable to respond.

      I can’t imagine having to see an ex-lover every day when it ended badly.

      I know what you mean about being unable to be alone or monogamous. I KNOW I should take some time to just focus on me–learn to rollerblade, practice ukulele, take dancing lessons, work on my novel, whatever. I know this. But I feel a compulsion to put myself out there again.

      Though today I am not sure what it is that I am looking for. I stopped believing in that kind of love, and Sugar Daddy made me believe again, and then he ripped it away. At first I felt like I needed someone to fill that hole immediately, but now I feel like I kinda just want to fuck. lol Less casualties that way.

      • Exactly.
        I know what you mean about not wanting to see him. About four years ago I was with MG, who I have known for twenty years. I fell hard and so did he. And then he took up with a woman named Linda and dumped me. Refused to talk to me, ignored my texts and calls, was as cold as cold could be. I used to drive around his part of town scared to death that I would see them together. I stopped going to the restaurants we frequented because I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing him with Her. I deFriended all of our mutual friends so that I wouldn’t see his name pop up on my Facebook feed. It was horrible. Well, now they have broken up and he’s knocking on my door again. I look at him and melt. Why do I want to be with someone who treated me so badly? Who made me want to die? Who ignored me when my mother was dying and I desperately needed an old friend? Of course he has excuses…he loved me too much and needed to be separated completely to get over me, blah blah blah. Horseshit. All of it. I wish I didn’t like cock so much because I would like to be done with men.

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