My emotions are brats.  I want, want, want.  The other day I thought about the fact that, although I am not an only child, my sister is far younger than I.  I was an “only” for almost seven years.  And I am as stubborn and selfish sometimes as any only–with the arrogance of an older sister, to boot.

Tonight I called Robbie and told him I don’t WANT things to be like this.  He laughed.  I kept asking him to tell me why he was laughing, but he wouldn’t.  I knew anyway.  He always laughs at me after he’s broken up with me and I call and ask him if we can see each other again, be together again.  Partly he’s laughing at me, partly at himself, partly at the absurdity of our relationship, and partly, he’s laughing from nerves.  At least, that’s my conclusion.

We might see each other this weekend.  We are idiots.  Once, years ago, when I got back together with a boyfriend who had dumped me in a particularly inconsiderate way, he reported to me the words of a female friend of his on hearing the news of our re-coupling: “That’s idiotic.  You’re an idiot, she’s an idiot, it’ll never work.”

My friends these days similarly think that both R. and I are idiots.  I’ve given up trying to convince anyone of anything different.  I figure that it’s not my problem if they find us annoying.  They’ll eventually stop asking me about my love life, if it’s irksome to them.

On the other hand, single men will probably always ask me about my love life–not because I’m so luscious, because that is what single men do.  The other day I changed my relationship status on FetLife.  (Oh!  The drama!)  I didn’t do it entirely because of the breakup; long before the breakup, R. had been suggesting I remove the “in a relationship” tag because, he said, that was our business–and because I’d probably get more interest from folks if I didn’t advertise my unavailability.

Sure enough, he was right.  Within an hour after I became newly, Fetishistically single, I got a message that read something like this:

DirtyOldMan: Do you enjoy bare-bottomed over-the-knee spankings?  Shall we chat about our interests?

Me: No, thank you.

DirtyOldMan: You don’t enjoy bare-bottomed over-the-knee-spankings?  Or we shan’t chat about our interests?

His message served precisely one purpose.  It reminded me of the single OTK, bare-assed spanking I’d gotten from R.  Setting to one side the nagging worries I had to contend with about crushing my boyfriend’s lap, that spanking was heavenly.  I pouted after getting DirtyOldMan’s message, feeling once more like I don’t want to do kink with anyone but R.  I want to be HIS schoolgirl.

Perhaps I’ll get the chance this weekend to be, fully, the willful, petulant, stubborn little creature that I feel kicking at the floors inside my heart.  Perhaps I’ll even get corrected for it.  A girl can dream, can’t she?

Dancing schoolgirls by John Ryan Solis.