Sabotage

I noticed there weren’t any vacant tables at the coffee shop, casing the joint as I waited for my date to arrive. As I arrived at the front of the line I turned around and saw that he’d just walked in the door, and was three or four folks behind me. I smiled; he smiled. I did a lap around the seating area, found I was correct that there were no tables open, and grabbed two stools at the bar. My cider was served up piping hot, and before long T was sitting next to me and we started our conversation.

Oh man the conversation. It was so easy. It flowed so well. He’s a musician and we talked shop. He grew up in the church and we talked church. He grew up near my home town and found we had shared similar hangout spots back in the day. All the time his smile and self-confidence kind of drew me in and I felt I could talk about anything. Lulls in the chatter were comfortable and quickly passed with a new topic fresh at hand. I vaguely noticed people bustling behind us, and out of the corner of my eye saw the staff going through their ritual of cleaning. We checked watches and saw that two hours went by in a flash.

Suddenly we were out side, both quickly agreeing it was fun and yes we should do it again. Suddenly there was a hug, and suddenly I was on my way back home.

Sigh. Here we have a classic example of history repeating itself. I’ve started pursuing kink – bdsm – D/s stuff with Z. It is really good that I’m doing that. It is vitally important to me that I pursue those experiences. And yet here I am, going out on a coffee date with T and dreaming wedding-and-babies fantasies. Why? Because I always do this. I always sabotage my own progress in exploring kink. Because it’s scary? Yes. Because the dudes I explore it with never seem to have the conversational and inter-personal skills to which I’m most attracted? Yes. Because the shiny, false bauble of vanilla ‘normalcy’ still manages to trick me into thinking my kink desires will go away?

Yes.