A few readers have asked just how my distant buddy relationships work, what I get out of them, what my distant buddies get. It should be said that, today, I have exactly one ongoing distant buddy. I have a couple of low-level flirtations, but Sofia is the only woman with whom I interact daily. She wrote this over a month ago, but it remains an accurate description of the relationship between us.
I don’t know exactly how I found My Dissolute Life. It’s possible that I came across the blog while searching for something hot to read. Or maybe I saw a recommendation somewhere, a link in a blogroll. I don’t know. I wasn’t paying much attention to anything that day, idly opening one blog after the other, and marking the ones I’d go back to later for a thorough read.
When I first got here, I remember taking a quick look at the first entries, then clicking in the My Story page – which is the kind of information I always search for, whenever I start reading a new blog. I pretty much devoured everything there, and that was it, I became a reader (one who, by now, has finished reading every word written here).
I was very impressed by N.’s story, by how honest he sounds, by how compelling his writing is – it makes me think and it makes me feel. I also give great value to the courage (I suppose) it takes to put such intimate, emotional details out there, especially because I don’t think I could ever be so open – never mind the benefits of doing it, and the relative security of anonymity.
Other than that, I was instantly affected by the absolute hotness of so many of his posts. They were different from anything I’d seen before. For me, they were made much more appealing by the fact that I was intrigued by the person behind those words. And as I went on with my reading of the blog, my interest only grew. I wanted to know more. More about his life, about his likes and dislikes, about who he is (within reason).
It wasn’t until a few weeks later that I decided to contact N. Just the idea of doing it was almost overwhelming to me. I didn’t know very well what to say, and it wasn’t clear to me what I was hoping to get out of our communications, beyond learning the details I was interested in. So I sent him a pretty awkward e-mail, in which I didn’t accomplish much, other than to praise him on his writing.
To be honest, I think I had a pretty good idea of what else I wanted by then, but was too wary of it to admit it to myself. I wanted him to know how his writing got me off. I wanted what I read about in the posts that turned me on. I wanted him to ask things from me. Better yet, I wanted him to want to ask things from me. I wanted to do as I was told. I knew I would get off on this, I could feel it. But my seeming necessity to be in control of everything in life, and my issues with trust, prevented me from acknowledging my desires for some time.
The thought of relinquishing control to him, of giving him what he asked, got me ridiculously wet – and a bit troubled by my wanting this. I mean, in my head, there was no scenario in which I could conceive this as a good idea, after all, I hardly knew much about him. What guarantee would I have that I’d be safe? But still, after chatting with him for the first time, and pondering on what we had discussed, I felt it could be rewarding to push myself – at least as far as my instincts told me I should go.
Looking back, it seems that much more time has passed than it actually has. I’m surprised to see how quickly things escalated. I’m surprised that I came to trust him, that it happened so fast, and that I’m not second guessing it – this is very out of character for me. I believe that this break of habit was for the best, considering that my tendencies to distrust people seem to be built on fears that I basically manufacture in order to feel safe, to avoid hurt.
After realizing all that, I couldn’t think of a good reason not to go through with what I desired. I was slightly scared, but in a good way, I think. So I went through with it, and that’s how it all started. Since then, a lot has changed, but as it is today, the basic structure of our interactions, from my perspective, is this:
– I send him pictures of myself almost daily. I get pictures from him frequently too. We exchange a few words with the photos, ask each other for things we’d like to see. The good old sexting.
– He gives me tasks to complete: Photoshoots, voice recordings, videos of various contents, writing assignments, searches on the Internet, and so it goes. My list is always full, and I like knowing that I have all that stuff to do for him. I’m always eager to get more of them – I get off on the simple thought of completing these assignments, let alone on the actual execution of them (and on the reactions I get from him).
– I’m constantly asking questions about him, about his life as N. He satisfies my curiosity, my wanting to know more about him. I’m interested in learning about the dynamics of his relationships with other women, about how he feels about what he’s doing. Also, I like to watch my reactions to his answers: I constantly find myself feeling envious of these women and just a bit annoyed. I think this is all interesting, and that it makes sense considering the configuration of our relationship.
– He has control of my solo orgasms. I’ll only come when he allows me, and in the way he instructs me. I usually record it on video, and occasionally I do it live. This is one of the hottest things for me. The elements that are involved in this, such as the plays, the anticipation and the fact that I’m at his mercy (from a distance) are huge turn-ons for me. I feel flattered that he wants my orgasms, and I’m more than happy to give them to him.
(An observation: This has been helping me get over a lot of my hang ups on masturbation. Because of his open appreciation of it, each day I feel more comfortable and sexy when I’m touching myself. Besides, doing it on camera makes me feel dirty, and the truth is that I fucking love the feeling.)
– He gives me gifts occasionally, in recognition of my compliance.* Often they’re things I’ve asked for (pictures, words, mostly), but I’ve been surprised with lovely such presents quite a few times. I don’t really see them as rewards. Don’t get me wrong, I’m always thrilled to receive these gifts (and a little greedy for them), but the true reward for me is the satisfaction I get when I’m giving him what he wants. And that’s basically the reason why I do everything that I do.
I live far away. It’s likely we’ll never meet. The impossibilities that encompass our relationship seem almost tangible to me, and I feel my powerlessness over them acutely. But, honestly, this is fine. I welcome all the wishing and wanting. It works for what we do. And I’m learning to embrace the bit of frustration that comes with it. Well, I am trying.
Considering all that, I’d say that what I’m getting out of our interactions goes way beyond the (lots and lots of) incredible fun I’m having. I’m happy I’m getting to know myself better – my fears, my desires, my mechanisms to avoid facing my fears and my desires. On that topic, I’m grateful for him, for the inspiration I got (get) from his writing. It feels truly rewarding to have crossed that line I knew to be a limit before. It feels good to have acknowledged the emotions and feelings I used to avoid. It feels good to know a little more about what I want. And about what I need.
* I pointed out to Sofia that this sounds as if I send her objects, presents. I don’t. I send her still and moving images of me, recordings of my voice, words written for her, reactions engendered by her.