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My blog was down last week because I didn’t like Robbie’s reaction to something I posted.  I got mad at him for getting upset at me, and I made everything here private.  A couple hours later, I made everything public again–or so I thought.  Apparently, I forgot to press “save” when I republished everything.  For two days I wondered why nobody was visiting me.  *Sniff*

Lately, it’s been hard to write because of the emotional interference from my relationship.  Robbie claims that he’s not upset by what I write, but in fact, we often have fights after I’ve posted about something that happens in our relationship.  On the other hand, we often have fights, so it’s not clear that the correlation is causation.

More than that, I feel that lately, whenever I get the urge to write about something between us, especially something sexual, my overall message or mood is whiny or negative, and I don’t like that.   I don’t want to write about that.  Robbie pointed out to me in a series of major emails about a month and a half back that most of my comments about our sex life are negative.  That upsets me because I don’t FEEL like our sex life is negative; I enjoy it immensely, and frankly, it’s one of the reliably amazing aspects of us.  It doesn’t take much for a discussion about chores to get snippy, but man, we can fuck for hours without anything going majorly wrong. So why DO I complain?

I’m not entirely sure, but I think it has to do with topping from the bottom, an urge to tell him, “Ur doing it wrong!”  (He’s been saying for months that this is what’s going on, but do I listen?  No, because he r doing it wrong.)  It’s not even that he’s doing it wrong in a way that is bad and needs to get fixed right then.  It’s more like, “If you always did it this way, it would suck, so just FYI, this could improve your technique”.  But it comes out sounding like a “hissy fit” (his phrase).

I’m pretty sure that I’m being a negative sub, rather than him being a jerky dom.  Why’m I sure?  Well, the weekend after he sent those emails, I had a 30-second opportunity to top him.  I got so upset by what I perceived as his “criticism” of my flogging technique (he was “whining” because I hit him in the ear, the big baby) that I threw away the flogger and stomped out of the room, crying.  There was a little more to it than that, but mostly, I was pissed that he wasn’t letting me just beat him like I wanted to.

It was a good lesson for me.  If he threw down the metaphorical flogger every time I whined?  We would have no sex.  Ever. The more I top, the more I get how hard it is to be a top.  Sheesh.  It’s enough to make a switchy girl roll over and moan, “Beat me, Daddy, I’m yours”!