A reminder of why vanilla has always been my favorite flavor.

In sitting here trying to start this blog, I had to laugh at the irony. Sixty-nine hours. My life has been completely turned around in sixty-nine hours.

It started with a swipe.

I’ve made it no secret that I’m on several kink sites, hoping to find the proverbial needle in a haystack. Someone who can love the woman, feed the sadist, grow with the partner, acquiesce to the Domme, and satisfy the whore inside of me. Someone confident and outgoing, independent and eclectic who savors life and values experiences more than objects. Someone as fluid as water who has the ability to adapt to an ever changing environment which can include a multitude of wildly ranging emotions and activities at any given time with absolutely no warning.

Planning scenes has never been big with me, I’m much more into taking advantage of situational opportunities and things happening organically. My mood can change from playful to ravenously dark without warning and I’ve been told repeatedly I’m searching for something that didn’t exist. There isn’t anyone that would be comfortable entering into a relationship such as that.

In December of this year I matched with a local-ish guy on Tinder. He was age appropriate, funny, had a quirky style I was attracted to and asked respectful questions. He was also obviously unfamiliar with the lifestyle and while I’m generally polite I don’t go out of my way to woo newbies simply because it typically doesn’t work out. Honestly, I thought he was a tourist. A cute one, but a tourist nonetheless.

Over the next several months though he and I would stumble into conversation periodically and he would check in to see how I was doing and casually inquire if I was still single. My multiple attempts at trying to meet someone had started to wear me down and I was honestly considering giving up and removing my ads from the various sites, at least for a while.

Then he sent me a friend request on Facebook and suddenly we were chatting again. This time it was different, he was very invested in trying to get me to go out with him but as of late I’d been particularly surly and anti-social and…well, there was that vanilla thing. But after chatting for some time and seeing how incredibly patient and easy to talk to he was, I threw out an offer. That night I was going to a play and he was working but he was welcome to pack an overnight bag and come over after work and stay the night. My thought was that we could hang out and chat for a while and he could sleep in one of the spare rooms and he could hang out with me the following day.

It ended up not working out because he had to work late and lives an hour away, but we ended up face-timing until 3AM anyway. He asked if he could come make me breakfast and immediately I responded that was my hang-out-in-crappy-clothes-with-unbrushed-hair-and-no-bra-on and work on art day. He seemed to think that sounded charming. I told him if he were to come over not to expect I’d be dressed up because he would be getting the full Sunday experience. He said that was fine. I told him if he showed up wearing anything other than slouchy pants or pajamas and a crappy t-shirt I’d send him packing. He asked me what time he should arrive.


The next morning when the knock came on my door I opened it to find a handsome face smiling at me, casually dressed just as I requested. In his hands he carried a wooden liquor box and handed it to me and I thanked him and told him I don’t drink. “I’m aware Madame, it’s not liquor. It’s chocolate” he stated as he slid the lid back to reveal the contents inside. Nicely played. He apparently paid attention to details.

We sat on the couch and spoke for hours about everything and nothing and I found myself imagining what it would be like to be wrapped in his arms and to kiss him deeply. It didn’t take long to discover the answer as he leaned in and I found myself melting into his embrace.

He stayed for three days, and for the first time in as long as I can remember, everything just feels amazingly right. He came to me without other encumbrances and with no agenda, he simply wanted to learn more about me and asked for the opportunity to do so.

So here it is a week later and I’m literally writing this as he’s sitting here talking with one of my sons who dropped in to visit. We’ve spent the entire weekend with my other son and his girlfriend and popped in to visit my parents and now he’s lost in conversation with the kid talking about music. He also received a surprise visit from a dear friend while I was still at work on Friday and we dropped by to visit some of my other close friends that evening at their home as well. Watching him navigate the weekend with my family and chosen family has been absolutely the most beautiful and heart warming experience.

I’m reminded of my love for vanilla with this whole situation because I’d honestly lost sight of the fact that we all start somewhere, and vanilla truly does have the flexibility to accommodate spicy, savory, and everything in between. My jaded heart almost overlooked this beautiful human being simply because he didn’t have a kink background and I was afraid he was simply interested in satisfying a vague curiosity, and now we are building this beautiful foundation based on common interests and building layer upon layer of the lifestyle onto it. He has come to me as a blank slate and asked me to share everything I am with him; even the darkest of areas that most refuse to acknowledge.

And every time I’ve laid a hand on this man, or buried my teeth in his skin, he has given me this lovely guttural growl and has leaned in and whispered “MORE”.

More indeed my love…

3 thoughts on “A reminder of why vanilla has always been my favorite flavor.

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