The other kind of minutia

I fucking love him! I want to laugh and scream about it tonight... maybe its the 3 beers I've had...

... or maybe its the past week of missing and absolutely craving him, feeling crushed with the weight of wanting nothing but my Master, feeling pain and hurt and emptiness, longing not for the sex, or the s&m, or the power, but just to be with him... wrapping my arms around my body for some kind of comfort, wishing they were his arms... waiting for his arms...

I am such a love-cynic I want to laugh at how ridiculous I am. Allow me to demonstrate:

A while ago, through circumstances I won't bother detailing, Master gave me a box of washing powder from his house. Suddenly, the rate at which I washed my clothes seemed to increase. I confessed to Betty one night: the truth was, I was getting pleasure from the fact that my clothes now smelled like his. She said, "Honey, thats called romance." Tonight, I put some washing on and was disappointed to find the box empty - nothing left but the usual brand I buy. So disappointed I almost didn't even wash my clothes. Fuck, I've become a laundry romantic! How the hell did that happen??

Sometimes I genuinely ask myself that. Sometimes I wonder, how did someone do this to me? I was so determined not to be this way, not to have someone on my mind like this, constantly wanting to tell them "I love you, I miss you, I love you, I miss you..." That's not me, goddammit!
But it is me. It's absolutely me to surrender, and to serve - with my heart, as well as everything else. And of course, the credit is his, for recognising that, and for being strong enough, and patient enough, and wise enough to draw that out of me.