Today’s guest blogger has a moving and pretty heartbreaking story about relationships, privacy and sex blogging. It’s a really powerful, personal piece and it touches on a lot of things that I have worried about as a sex blogger, and that I suspect many other bloggers in similar situations worry about. She also talks a little about her relationship – which has a DD/lg dynamic, using the honorific ‘Daddy’ to refer to her partner, similar to the kind Cara Thereon wrote so beautifully about here a few weeks ago. If you’re likely to find that triggering, please don’t read on, but if you’re curious about it she’s kindly included more links to other bloggers who’ve written about this sort of play, so you can find out more if you’d like to.
When his mum found our sex blog
I once got fired from a job. I didn’t see it coming – just walked into the building that day and the boss called me to his office to tell me in only slightly more professional language to fuck off.
I didn’t get a right to reply, didn’t get asked if I had anything to say.
I felt sick. Numb. Worthless.
I cried for days.
This break up was like that.
I’d almost stopped thinking that he was going to dump me; we’d fallen into an easy routine, as if we’d loved one another for years, not months.
Then his mother, claiming she was worried about his internet security, ‘happened across’ the private blogs we used to explore our burgeoning D/s relationship – where he was a caring and nurturing ‘Daddy’ and I was his stupid, cherished sweetheart, his ‘little’ – to share fetish art we liked and experiences we wanted to try.
It goes without saying this wasn’t for our families’ eyes.
They didn’t need to know I was his submissive. How we liked denial and messy blow jobs, and teasing one another. That time he degraded me so thoroughly and so lovingly I reached subspace for the first time, my head deliciously empty.
I laughed in embarrassment that she’d discovered these things and we deleted our accounts together. We thought that was the end of it.
That weekend we slept in the same bed, but it was as if I repulsed him. We didn’t fuck. We argued and wept.
Nine days later he sat in my front room, looking like hell, and said it was over.
“I was never your Daddy.” he said, as if I’d imagined the seasons we’d spent together, the bedtime stories he’d read me, the way he had loved me.
With those five words I snapped.
I screamed he was a coward, that she’d made him say these things but he remained loyal, even as he let slip he’d had to stop his family badmouthing me.
One sibling’s partner had endured abuse as a child, and he fearfully asked if our relationship glorified her pain. Another was only incredulous he’d been attracted to me in the first place. And his mother again, fretting that the blogs were gateway porn paedophiles would gravitate towards.
We were accused of glorifying child abuse – which we didn’t. Of course we didn’t. But I didn’t get a right to reply, I didn’t get asked if I had anything to say.
I felt sick. Numb. Worthless.
Some days were harder than others. I tore myself apart and cried and cried, a knot of unquenchable anger. At him. His family. Myself for not fighting harder for him.
If it weren’t for my friends in D/s dynamics, in the wider kink community, I might not have survived it, though in some ironic mirroring, my biggest comfort has been my mum.
My mother, the self-confessed prude, who more than once questioned why my brother and I insisted on informing her about our sex lives as she “really doesn’t want to know.”
In the aftermath of the breakup, I was so scared that she would be disgusted, but felt I had to be honest about the reason his family were so vehement in their hatred of me.
I told her that we enjoyed rough things in the bedroom. I used the word submissive. I swallowed my fear and told her that I called him Daddy.
I shouldn’t have worried. She wasn’t phased.
“As long as you’re happy and you’re not hurting anyone, it’s no one’s business what you do in bed, in private.” she said.
Even now, if we discuss the subject of the split, she is incredulous as to why his mother kept reading; a sentiment echoed by every friend who knows the full story. She cannot understand why a parent would invade their adult child’s privacy without any shame.
She’s been and continues to be wonderful.
So let’s say you’re a parent and you happen upon something of your (adult) child’s intimate life. Maybe they’re living with you for a wee while (times are tough and rents are high), or just visiting for a weekend with their significant other. Maybe you pass by the living room and hear your son or daughter murmuring “Yes Mistress” or “Yes Daddy” to some comment by their preternaturally confident partner.
Perhaps you’re being shown photos on your eldest’s phone and an image flashes past of them restrained, naked, debased. How do you cope with this?
It’s embarrassing, of course it is – we don’t want to admit to ourselves that our parents or our offspring do the no pants dance. And what if your child isn’t engaging in these acts wilfully?
The best piece of advice I can give is “Is your child happy?” Does she look at her partner as though they are the most beautiful creature she has ever clapped eyes on? Do they laugh together? Do they care for one another? Does he cheer for his other half’s football team even though sport leaves him cold? Are they equals in every other aspect?
If the answer to each of these questions is yes, then mind your fucking business.
And if your discovery is of a CG/l dynamic – where one partner takes on a submissive, youthful role and one that of a caregiver, and if this makes you uncomfortable, as well it might, take your child to one side and ask them what this means, for reassurance that they are not mocking genuine abuses of power, and listen to them.
Ultimately, trust your child.
Others have written at length about what CG/l/age play are – alongside Cara’s guest blog, these articles are also worth a read too.
Age play has even been included in this A-Z of kinks and fetishes to try in Glamour Magazine, which is about as mainstream as you can get.
It hurts that the man I loved and continue to love did not have the community that I am lucky to have. A community of friends who don’t judge. A parent whose love for their child isn’t limited by that child wavering from the vanilla path. Their support has been invaluable to me. I hope he finds the same.
And finally………. don’t use your email handle for your secret kink blog.