I and Love and You.
This post is somewhat all over the place, so pardon me while I burst into flames. Anyways, carrying on…
I have always had a hard time with people that use those three words in sequence, so carelessly.
I don’t know why, but they just irritate me. Being so cavalier about the pinnacle words you can express to another person speaks volumes to me about them as individuals. I’ve heard people say that to me when they shouldn’t have, and well, needless to say, talk about “uncomfortable” when you have to shut it down and tell them – “nope, ain’t happening. Sorry cupcake, not this time”.
In a perfect world, only one person would ever hear that from your lips, in the romantic sense. But unfortunately, our world is very imperfect.
Nevertheless, three people in my life have ever heard that phrase uttered from my lips in a romantic way. Family doesn’t count in this way. Friends either, but I’d never say that to a buddy because I’m not a fuckin weenie.
No, I mean it like this – when you give it to someone as a gift who you are passionate about.
Three people. That’s it. And three is too many.
I made that decision to cross that line three times, with each years, in some cases decades apart. That decision – to open a side of myself not otherwise accessible to even some of the most powerful pulls at the heart, is my gift of me, to you.
Long-term relationships existed and I still wouldn’t break that rule of giving it away. Short term very hot ones where you lose focus, but still wouldn’t budge on this very thing.
Nope. No fucking way.
No matter what, I always would hold focus on this very thing, no matter how intense it was.
I’m a man who believes in the idea of “best”. If you aren’t the best when it comes to my heart – you sure the fuck ain’t getting the best.
I would never give that away based entirely on emotion. Fuck that. It has to be right, reciprocated entirely, but even still in some cases when I was weak enough to let it be a part of the dialogue, I knew it was bullshit. This is when your heart dies inside a little more and more each time you sacrifice those words.
Just three little words.
I truly believe that it takes something out of you to give that away to somebody. At least if you look at it as I do: as something very very special.
Nothing else that you can say compares.
If it’s wrong, it kills a part of you. If it’s right though, it emboldens you in way that you never knew possible. It takes everything to a new level and it continues to do so each time you utter it. Or at least, that is my experience with it.
A magical phrase when used right; toxic when done wrong.
It is – just so fucking powerful – to say “I Love You”.
Still, they but just three little words. Just words.
Nonetheless, they are the pinnacle words you will ever speak in your entire life on earth.
The absolute pinnacle.
They are, the “best” words you will offer up, and I am a person who believes that words matter, very very much. So you better goddamn be sure when you use them, you meant it and it is for the right person.
The decision to say these words for me was years and decades apart and should be, at least emotionally, when and if you ever say it again. Maybe you’ll never say it to another person again in your life – if you are lucky.
Only you know if when you said it, did you mean it, and if you meant it, did you mean it more than when you said it before? Did it negate the other times you said it? It should have in some ways – or else you never really meant it to begin with.
Or was it one of a few, all equal in stature? My mind doesn’t work like that.
Should I choose to love and say those words, I cease to love anyone according to my definition with that side of me – that side of me is reserved for the one I say it to and mean it for. Nobody else. Just how I am built.
To me, I’d never say it unless it was greater than the prior definition I had to myself, meaning every time I’ve said it, it essentially was an awakening moment that made me realize that with this new love – this is what the other ones were missing – and this love – this is what I really meant before but didn’t know it yet. This love – this is the new definition. This is the greatest. The best.
I don’t half-ass shit in life in case you couldn’t already tell and I surely don’t half-ass matters of the heart.
I think you may realize already if you follow my blog often and are not just stumbling upon a reblog that I am in the midst of a defining moment in my life.
I normally have a jovial tone that is lacking right now, minus maybe a little “not a weenie” sarcasm earlier. Hey, I’m still a dick; can’t really shut that part down.
Lately, a lot of the “Romantic” side is being written to the blog and less “Dominant”, I guess.
Normally I’ll stick to sex and D/s and leave it be. Maybe some philosophical nonsense about how to finger and eating a woman’s pussy or something, but that’s just to keep me from re-writing the same shit again, and maybe school all the peons who think they know a thing or two and use my words to try to get laid by reblogging and say some lame crap like “?Yeah, I’m like that too ladies. Hit me up.” Sure you are, dickhead. Sure you are. How come you didn’t fucking say it then, e-Casanova? Because you aren’t the real deal chump, or you would have.
So what if this post is a bit different? I have zero “give a fuck” in me and never have about what people think of my thoughts as I put them down, and if I drop to zero followers, then so be it.
At least I’m honest.
Half these Dom blogs are just a bunch of fucking lying asshats trying to pretend to be stoic dark emotionless characters to dupe some chick into letting them fuck em. Maybe wet some panties and stroke their own egos with their toddleresque lexicons flinging out repetitive garbage with no heart in it.
Nope. Fuck that.
I am all heart.
What you get here is raw, pure, and honest passion spoken from deepest recesses of a man’s soul. Every goddamn time, even when it’s not a tool to help you touch your little pussies.
Sometimes my albatross leads me down a path of a post where I am like an editorial page on some weird fucked up romance newspaper, talking about the importance of three words, and when that happens, I run with it, as I am now.
It’s personal to me and this is my catharsis. I imagine that almost immediately the fingers roll off the clits and probably the inner monologues of the readers say a little “ugh, I was hoping to cum, dude”. Sorry ladies, but like said – zero give a fucks; just how I am.
But still, most times your clits are well tended to because it’s about yanking a woman by her hair, a woman that is very real in my mind, then fingering her until she almost drops to floor as I work my magic on her little pink bean. Her legs that just moments earlier had strength, yet I snatched it right out of her limbs with the same goddamn motherfucking passion and the same goddamn passionate hands I am typing with.
This is me.
Always has been.
Always will be.
Open. Honest. Vulnerable.
The most passionate man you will ever know if you’ve ever felt my touch.
The words come as they may. Take or leave it, I don’t give a shit, but I’ll never stop putting pen to paper of the inner me and become another zombie blogger with a “what do they want to hear” approach.
My newly found house of pain as I deal with it, on display in intentional obscurity that will never be written about. My albatross is very powerful and fuckin bitch some days yet feeding it is not a matter of choice. Should I find the jovial version soon, it’s because I spoke those three special words, in her ear.
I Love You.
Yep. I and Love and You.
Because I do.
I Love You, Kitten.
In that “best” way.
So readers, pardon me while I burst, into flames. I hope you’ll forgive me as I am human for a moment and write not so much about your vaginas being crushed for a sec. I’m sure that will come around plenty soon, as reminisce, although I’d prefer as a prediction. I’m a positive guy and dejection has never been something I wore well; it makes my ass look fat.
Can’t help what comes out, the R or the D in this blog are served up both here and R is currently preparing lunch for my bird right now. Nope, I just write.
I write it all.
I write my heart.
I write it honestly.
It’s my gift and curse.
Pardon me while I burst into flames
I’ve had enough of the world
and it’s people’s mindless games
So pardon me while I burn
and rise above the flame
Pardon me, pardon me,
I’ll never be the same
-Incubus, Pardon Me