Saturday, November 23, 2019

Barter and Sub

About a month ago, at a regional Burning Man event my friends had tragically convinced me to go to, I threw my drunk and Molly-addled self into my $25 tent, catching my hair on the zipper and wrestling with the mosquito screen before I began drool-sobbing (you know the kind) into my mildew-ey pillow for the next hour. The couple next to me fucking in their tent probably heard. But it was either this or start randomly punching people in the face.

A series of unfortunate but predictable happenings at said event had made the seething loneliness that I'd been shoving down my heart valves the last few months feel like a stinging loogie in my chest that I needed to hock forth from the depths.

The hocking helped … for maybe 12 hours. Then I emailed my submissive.

Fast-forward a week later: I sat in my kitchen watching a cute boy in panties delicately pour me precisely a quarter glass of Pinot Noir. A little too tannin-y. Not quite what I had asked for, but he'd hit the mark with his choice of heels.

As I ate, he started asking me questions about myself and listened attentively to the answers, his eyelinered eyes staring adoringly (and a touch fearfully) into mine. It was exactly what I needed - but that's because I had commanded it all in my detailed email the week before.

"How long do you want to keep bartering," my BFF asked me after I finished describing this latest session to her the other night.

She's so fucking perceptive it's annoying.

She was referring to this elaborate (*yet highly creative and resourceful) barter system I've come up with. In an attempt to assuage my loneliness, I continuously exchange what I really want for blips of affection, or orgasms, or help with moving, all from different humans who are willing to provide pieces, but never the whole package.

Sample bartering schedule:

Monday: my submissive gives me a massage and hangs my curtains while asking me how my day was.

Tuesday: sex date with fuck buddy who doesn't make out with me during it for fear of emotional attachment.

Wednesday: drunken make-out with rando Bumble date to fill the make-out void. 

Thursday: guy who always makes me feel good but "doesn't know what he wants" takes me to see a band and gives me multiple orgasms after. 

Friday: Netflix and wine and crying with my long-suffering BFF.

Saturday: getting instant validation on Instagram from number of "likes" on a pic of my ass.

Sunday: Ani DiFranco at the Orpheum with lady friends, because fuck men.


The bitch of this barter system is that it can turn on you real quick. Like when you bump into one guy you're sleeping with and he cheerfully introduces you to his hot new fling. Or when you get a flat tire on the bridge just trying to make it home from an exhausting day and you realize you can't call any of them to help you because it's not like that.

But at least it's something?

Most likely it's just a painful reminder that I don't yet have the ovaries to stop peicemealing a lovelife, let myself feel really fucking lonely, keep feeling lonely, and not stop until I GET WHAT I ACTUALLY WANT AND NEED.

There's no solution to loneliness, just a choice of how much you're going to barter your way through it or decide SIT IN IT, like a big girl, by yourself, and not budge until you get only the best. 

I'll likely be sitting somewhere in the middle for a while. And I'm not going to beat myself up for it. Just my heart, occasionally, and maybe a submissive's ample rear.

Any other barterers out there? How do you fill your lonely-hole?