I blinked

So who would have guessed....I blinked first.

I sent him a text.  I sent him a text apologizing.  I sent him a text saying I had a tantrum.  I sent him a text saying I needed him and couldn't tell him.  I sent him a text saying I was scared to see him.  I sent him a text asking to talk tomorrow.

Nervously I waited holding the phone.  A minute passes.  Maybe two.  I think he is not going to reply.  Reasonably I think maybe he has gone to bed.  Then I think he is not going to talk to me.  Then I think he is not going to talk to me ever.  Then I think well fuck him.  Then I think what the hell will I do. Then my phone blips.  The message is "sure".

Fuck him.  I hate that I know he was just sitting waiting for me to come to him.  I hate that we both knew I would.  I hate him for not checking on me.  I hate his short little response, "sure".  I see it and I read: it's no big deal, whatever, we're cool, its cool, I hardly noticed...I guess in my sub-ly brain I read it as you don't matter.  No matter how much I know he was waiting me out I can't squash that shard of tiny little girl wanting for someone to notice, to care, to come looking and make everything better...

The little girl (when she really was little) decided "fuck the rest of the world I am not asking you for a goddamn thing'.  That is why Mr waits.  He waits for her to stop wishing and state what it is she needs, then he is there not making a fuss, just accepting and calm - but only when she has both the strength and weakness to come to him.  When she stamps her foot and crosses her arms, frowning, tears burning but not falling, lips tight, needing to be seen but not admitting it, it is not enough - can never be enough.  That little girl runs to him because he pulls out of her that need and lets it shine.  He polishes it, tends it, cares for it, nurtures it until she can own it.  When she needs him he cannot come to her because what she needs is to go to him.

The thing I hate most is that after my one really bad day I slipped into this space.  I feel...well I feel so damn subbie.  I am scared to see him because I know I have dropped to a new level of submission.  I don't want to see him because I don't know what that will look like.  I am scared to see him because I don't want to need to see him.  I don't want to want to see him because I feel like my world will collapse if I don't.  I want to go because I choose it, not because I need to breathe the air from his lungs so that I can live.

But I do.