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.

Minutia

Many months ago, I was a contented slut. I had plenty of naughty and kinky fun and no attachments to anyone. I would meet a new player every now and then, have them over to my house for a good time, then send them on their way and decide later whether they would be invited back or not. I was often submissive in their presence, but always in control of the bigger picture.

I remember meeting one new man very well. He was warm, confident and lascivious in our chats without being sleazy. He seemed experienced but not concerned with proving himself. He complimented me, but certainly did not suck up. I liked him immediately, and without even seeing a photo I invited him to my home. Our first meeting surprised me with its intensity and honesty. He had a way of seeming to see straight through me and compel me to expose myself to him – not just physically, but mentally and psychologically, which was a far more intimate experience than I was used to. It was not long at all before I would come to call him Master.

Later, during that first meeting, came a small exchange with big significance for me. He asked my son’s name. When I told him he asked me the spelling. As soon as I answered, he said the name of the not-too-well-known figure that I had named my child after. At the time of writing, he remains the only person who has ever made that link without me prompting it.

I told a good friend this story recently and she said to me: "Minutia. The tiny things make all the difference." When he made that connection, it changed the way I saw him irrevocably. I thought, this is not just a new fuck. This is big. Months later, as I find myself loving him, I believe it started with that moment.