The other night while the girl and I were sitting around talking about last year, I made mention that I was going to be doing some things different this year. Not that there’s much change that happens in our home often, but, I believe much of my thought process has been on the daddy side. It’s time to change that, not that I’m not willing to be a daddy, her daddy, but I have to be more aware of when it’s time to be bad daddy and not really give a fuck.
This year she will get back to doing yoga
We will have more rituals during the day
We will have a more ritualistic beginning middle and end of our week
This doesn’t mean that I want to micro manage her, because god knows that is a pain in the ass and not the good pain either, but given the situation of the past few months I think it’s best to keep the leash pulled tight. Hence the not give a fuck.
I’ve been thinking a lot about daddy and bad daddy. I’ve come to terms with this term, this title and although I always knew it came with certain responsibilities which I don’t have a problem with. It also comes with some other things like, when to be a good daddy and when to bad daddy. The year is still young, and I’m working it out in my head.
The girl never calls me Master, and I never asked her to. She’s only called me that twice that I can recall. Once she was pissed at what someone crossed the line and did. Referring to me as her Master and the second time was when she was getting an ass whipping, which didn’t stop her getting an ass whipping.
In a public place she refers to me as Sir.
In private she calls me daddy.
I look at myself as all of these three things. As her Master the one she is in consent, non-consensual relations with, the one who steers our household and her daily life. As her daddy, I’m nurturing, silly and at times affectionate. Daddy is the one who goes to midtown in December after work to buy her a little Christmas tree because she never had a real Christmas. As her Sir, I’m more of a drill sergeant, this needs to get done make it happen. Breath through whatever shit is going on in your head and make it happen, but now that I’m writing about it that sounds like bad daddy. But with all three I’m still her protector, guide and her shoulder to cry on.
I often wonder if the “s” types ever think who the “m” types go to too have a cry?
Just some thoughts, trying to start a new ritual, writing more.