“Do you have Blog constipation?”, asked my sister, referring to my recent lack of entries.
No, not really, but there is just so much going on so fast that I really feel lost when I sit down to try and record it.
Prominently, as always, features relationships. With K, no doubt.
Some wise bloke once said “Nobody has any power over us, except those to whom we explicitly give it”. How true.
So it was then, that I was the puppet of my love K. Whenever she said jump, I would ask “with or without a back flip”, and whenever she would say “come here” I would be there before the e of here was even pronounced.
Why? Because I’m a pussy-whipped sissy-boy? Yes, probably. But also because if I did not instantly respond to her every command, she would get angry. Hmmm, sounds like somebody else I use to submit to.
Several nights ago, however, I had an apifiny. You know, one of those moments where your mind puts together everything that bothers you and miraculously comes up with a realisation and a solution.
The realisation was that I was in deed a pussy-whipped sissy-boy. The solution was to take control of myself and my situation and take back the power I had so frivolously given away.
An opportunity to do just that presented itself all too soon. K had sent me a message saying “I’m alone in the office, come to me”. I panted like the lapdog I am, and I immediatelly wanted to run to her. But I countered my urges and sent her the following message instead: “Would love too, but I’m in the middle of a lesson plan and can’t stop now.”
Of course, she was furious, pretend or otherwise. First she replied “fine, don’t come. Don’t talk to me again”. I didn’t reply to that and some minutes later she sent “I hate you”. I didn’t reply to that either. I was in fact just lying on my bed and at first was a little worried about wether she would ever speak to me again. But I was tired and soon fell asleep and with that my worries dissapeared.
I woke up half an hour, or so, later. I got dressed, finished my lesson plan and meandered on over to the office. She was there, not fuming as I had anticipated, but in fact happy to see me. There were no consequences of my denail of her request.
I had effectively proven to myself that a) this is just the way of the (Chinese) woman, and b) nobody likes a pussy-whipped sissy-boy and sometimes, without saying it, she does in fact want me to not be such a damn push-over.
Now I feel a little more in control. I still have to sometimes control the overwhelming urge to immediatelly do as she says, but I manage it better now.
I feel powerful again, or at least, as if I’m in control of my own destiny.