Friday, August 14, 2009

Mr. She

I've been thinking some about Mr. She lately.

Since the second time I sessioned with She-Who-Visits, I've known about her significant other. In point of fact, She is indeed married. In part, it was quirks of fate that brought us together at the start and have made us close over time. When we met, She was planning her marriage and I was planning my new business. We shared adventure. If She had been single, it's likely our connection would have fizzled. Ties bound us to our partners and made it safer to become attached to each other. She knew she was leaving New York, a fact I learned about three months after I first met her and about two months before she left. I figure she thought she could take emotional risks with me at that point because we would likely not see each other again after she left. Little did she know ...

I haven't thought before why I never talked about Mr. She. I didn't talk about him too much because I really didn't want to tell the world she was married. I fretted that maybe it would damage her prodomme business. There are, I am sure, clients who may prefer to believe the perfect dominant they see is single. She pretty much has retired now and if she ever comes back to NYC to session it'll be with her regulars who know her and love her. So I don't really have the same concerns regarding rumination about Mr. She.

So, from the very beginning I've known about Mr. She. I actually know quite a bit about him though he and I will likely never meet. She really goes out of her way to keep her playmates away from her husband and her husband away from her playmates. He knows about me. He knows about her exploits. They met on Alt.com. He's lifestyle but according to She he has never played with prodommes. She's made me promise not to put things up on the blog that could be hurtful to him if he somehow discovered it.

I used to be terribly and voraciously jealous of Mr. She. For a long time I thought he'd stolen my perfect mate. He only knew her about a year before I met her. It seemed so horribly unfair. She and I got on so well. Despite a signficant but not insurmountable age gap we have a wonderful chemistry. Why did he have to ruin it all? I pined for marital discord.

But one of the things I love about her is that She is fiercely protective of her marriage. She goes the total extra mile, despite her strong feelings for me, to insure Mr. She is never hurt. She says he plays occassionally, with her blessing, with old domme friends. What's good for the goose and all. But please, I'd muse, I could do that way better than he does if She'd just give me the chance.

From what I can gather, pay-to-play and She's prodomming were always fair game and something Mr. She easily agreed She could do. For She, this was crucial. Other long term boyfriends and fiancees had forbade her trade and she gave them the heave ho. But Mr. She could deal. I'd say to myself, "Well, I could deal much better. Hell, I shilled for her on Max! What more can ya ask?" As long as she was collecting tribute, no boundries were blurred.

However, personal play and where to draw the line has always, according to She, been the more difficult issue. When we're together She and I talk about this stuff. She tells me her marital issues and I burden her with mine. That's what friends do. I won't go into them here, but she has them. Nothing that is causing the friction I once longed for, but early issues nonetheless.

Oh, my friend of the Mahwah Kiss? Remember her? She's back! Couldn't stand it west of the Hudson. Anyway, she calls my relationship with She a "friend with specific benefits" thing. Cute from a clueless vanilla girl, no?

Anyway, I've learned alot about Mr. She from other sources too. Not to sound all stalkerish, but two years ago, when She was giving me the silent treatment for four months, I actually fortuitously discovered Mr. She's vanilla blog. I wasn't really trying to find it and there it was.

His blog horrified me, eviscerated me, and facinated me for months. Lots of the events she'd told me about, places she'd described, and things she'd said they did together were either written about or depicted in photos. Wedding photos, vacation photos, travel photos, wedding photos, New York photos, wedding photos, wedding photos, wedding photos. I checked daily for updates for months. I was a compulsively addicted Mr. She blog reader. True masochism writ large. Or blogged large, at least.

Between you, me and a fucking lampost he's a terrible writer. I'm sorry if this sounds arrogant and mean, but he commits the original sin. He's boring.

She thinks he's an excellent writer, but claims never to read him. Yah, okay in a technical sense he's an okay writer. He does write in sentences and is not grammatically challenged. Me, my grammar ain't pretty but I can sometimes turn a phrase. Trust me, you'd yawn big time if you read Mr. She. Watch, they'll both read this and She will never speak to me again. I so live on the edge, don't I?

While I'm at it? Mr. & Mrs. She think their dog is the cutest dog in the world. He's not. I've met him. He's ugly and actually kinda mean. I'm the world's most dog friendly subbie and their dog is a vicious, ferocious, Pekingese monster.

So anyway ... I've had this, "you're-no-me" attitude about Mr. She for a long time. Up until about February of this year. Then I started to really like and totally admire Mr. She. See, I love She-Who-Visits with all my heart. But lemmee tell ya. She is one high maintenance chick. And he is the one who lives with her everyday. Day in and day out. I think he must just be a grand fellow. I'm so happy he can be there for her. And I gotta tell ya. As much as I love her, I'm relieved I'm not married to her.

She has me in on-my-honor chastity until we meet in Florida in two weeks. Meanwhile, She's doing this internet supermarket sweepstakes shop fest - ordering things, which she is paying for, but I am hauling to her. Protein shakes, perfume, frisbees, shoes, underwear, skirts, gathered tops, bandeau tops, shirred tops. I have a transfile in my office full of all her crap. How am I getting this stuff to Florida? Pony express??

Then, I've gotta bring the stuff she wants to return back with me and return it. Okay, okay. She saves on international shipping and duty. I'm her devoted servant, willing to do anything for my goddess. But talk about high maintenance. Sheesh ...

She wrote and said at least this time, I know she's coming because she wants all her goodies. Hmmmm...what about I throw a nice tag sale on Broadway?

No, as much as I thought She is the love of my life, She is Mr. She's wife and I love Mr. She for loving her. He is one of me. A submissive man who deeply loves his dominant. He deals with her demons everyday.

I'm the goomah. It's good to be the goomah.

So here's to Mr. She. Even if he is kind of a boring writer, he's a wonderful guy who deeply loves his wife - a dear, dear friend of mine. I suppose even their dog is alright - if you like little hairy frou-frou things. Hey, who said life isn't complicated?

He's washin' dishes, baby clothes, he's so ambitious, he even sews. I think it's cheaper, you should keep her and we'll both make whoopie.

9 comments:

Maitresse S said...

The dog comment made me literally laugh out loud.

You are a very entertaining writer and i enjoy reading you. :)

Mistress Wynter said...

You hit it right on the head, advo. Perhaps She is like Vegas for you... a helluva lotta fun, but you really don't want to live there.

And what happens in Vegas...

advochasty said...

S -

I live to entertain! I'm very glad you liked it.

I don't think recognizing limits means I love her any less, do you?


Wynter -

Yeah, Vegas! I love the analogy. I suppose recognizing context and limitation in my romantic yearning, especially under these circumstances, isn't such a bad thing, huh?

Vegas ... hmmmm. Or maybe the glorious, tawdry grit of Atlantic City. Springsteen and The Band did a song about AC with this chorus:

"Well now, everything dies, baby, that's a fact.
But maybe everything that dies someday comes back.
Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty,
And meet me tonight in Atlantic City."

Maitresse S said...

I don't think it necessarily means you love her any less per se, but there are different kinds of love. The trick is figuring out what kind of love you have for her. But then again, why put a label on love?


MS

Her Majesty's Plaything said...

Hi Advo:

The more you write about this situation the more the picture fills in for me and the more interesting your story becomes. I must admit I did wonder about Mr. She, what he knew about his wife's escapades and, specifically if he knew about the two of you. I can't believe you found his vanilla blog! That must have been the ultimate in masochistic reading!!!! :-p It makes sense that he's a sub. The picture makes a lot more sense now.

You have a great attitude about this relationship I must say. It's a powerful thing to be able see the world as it isand be happy things are exactly the way they are.

But I gotta say that's a heck of a lot of protein shakes and I have an aversion to aggressive, yappy little dogs! :-p

advochasty said...

S-

You are so right!

Labels are useless for the kind of love I feel.

All I truly know is it's the real deal.

And real? It is what it is.


HMP-

Mr. She is me and he is you. Different for sure but so much the same.

A judgemental, aloof little toy dog?

A suitcase packed full of an internet haul?

A pittance to pay for a ticket to a seaside ball.

Her Majesty's Plaything said...

So true Advo. A very small price to pay for a ticket to paradise! Here's to subbie Shangri-la! ;-)

Aarkey said...

Vegas... AC... just don't go on one of those day cruises when you are down here in FL and think it's the same.

Cause it ain't! :)

advochasty said...

This is my idea of a South Florida day cruise ... :-P