Further to my previous entry:

As I sit here in Dubai, caught in the uncertainty and danger of the recent conflict, I find myself reflecting on something simple yet telling. I felt a sadness that she could not offer even the most basic human expression of concern. Not because I expected comfort or rescue, but because her compartmentalisation and defences run so deep that even a small gesture of care was beyond her reach. It is a quiet disappointment, not in her as a person, but in the limits that life has carved into her. I would have reached out to her without hesitation. She could not do the same, and that truth settles heavily, even as I accept it.

There are parts of a person that don’t begin at the moment two people meet. They begin long before, in the quiet places where experience shapes us and then gets sealed away. Long before I met her, I had lived through something that awakened a deep part of me — a capacity for intensity, recognition, and emotional clarity that rarely finds a home. And she had lived through her own version of that. For different reasons, both of us buried that part of ourselves.

She buried hers out of fear - fear of instability, fear of loss, fear of needing someone, fear of being seen too clearly. I buried mine out of discipline - a deliberate containment, a way of protecting others from the full force of what I feel and protecting myself from offering it where it cannot be held. Different histories, different wounds, same instinct: suppress what once burned too brightly

When we met, that buried part in both of us stirred. Not because we created something new, but because we recognised something familiar. The connection wasn’t imagined. It wasn’t accidental. It was the reawakening of something each of us had sealed away. In the moments when she felt safe, she softened, revealing warmth, intuition, and depth she rarely allowed to surface. And in response, I became the version of myself that feels most grounded, steady, and alive.

I understood the sandcastle she lived in. I saw her protective walls. Not as flaws, but as architecture - structures and anchors that kept her upright when life gave her no stability. I understood why trusting one person felt like stepping into open air. I understood why she stayed in the present, why she avoided looking ahead, why she protected herself even from what she wanted. I saw the logic in it. I saw the cost of it too.

It is heartbreaking to see how someone can be hurt so deeply, so repeatedly, that they retreat into a world made of compartments. A world where adult emotional connection feels dangerous, where closeness carries the risk of being wounded again. And so she anchored herself to the one place that felt safe: the innocence of a child who had never betrayed her. The child of the man who had most recently broken her trust became, in a way, the last untouched corner of her emotional world. Maybe she saw a younger version of herself there. Maybe she stayed close to that child because it allowed her to protect something pure in a way no one ever protected her. Whatever the reason, it is unbearably sad that the safest place she could find was one that existed outside the realm of adult connection entirely.

I understood how it was easier to feel when it was transactional, triggered by someone else and emotionally outside her control.

What I felt for her was not fantasy. It was recognition. I cared for her deeply, and I would have treasured her - not by holding her tightly, but by creating a space where she could breathe without fear, where the sparks I glimpsed in her unguarded moments could grow into something steady. I never wanted to reshape her. I wanted to offer a place where she could rest without bracing for impact.

It hurt that she couldn't understand my deep need to care; that she could and did give herself to another physically, to a sadist, when she couldn't accept my care or give herself physically to me.

And I never believed it would be easy or instantaneous. I knew that being together would require patience, courage, and the slow dismantling of old defences. I knew it would demand effort from both of us. But the difficulty didn’t deter me - it clarified me. It strengthened my resolve. It deepened my desire to care, not out of saviourhood or fantasy, but because I saw what was possible if she ever chose to step toward it.

But the truth is simple: the part of her that woke up when we met is the same part she has spent years learning to silence. Stepping toward what she felt would have required dismantling the very defences that keep her functioning. She retreated not because she felt nothing, but because she felt too much. I stepped toward it because I was ready. That difference is the whole story.

So I release this into the ether - not to change her, not to call her back, not to craft something optimised for her reception or softened for her comfort. I have written carefully, yes, but this is not for her. This is for me. This is where I place the truth so I no longer have to carry it alone. We both knew. We both felt it. We both buried it for our own reasons. Meeting each other unlocked it again. She ran from it. I stepped toward it. And now I name it so it no longer lives unspoken.

Whatever she chooses, whatever she fears, whatever she cannot yet face, I hold no anger. Only the quiet truth of what was possible, and the peace that comes from finally giving these words a place to live outside my own mind.

Who knew..............?

.............. it seems that I am an empath!!

I have reached the age of 67 without ever having that insight or conversation, despite being analysed to death as a professional manager and having a need/propensity to work at things until I understand them.

I know my Myers-Briggs type, I am aware of my core strengths, I have had my values and capability for good judgement assessed a number of times, but never my emotional architecture. Maybe that is too touchy-feely and personally risky for "business to tackle, but once it is laid out, it makes so much sense and puts perspective on so much experience and so many conversations.

It also explains how, on top of everything else, it is hard (at least for me) to find a good match in BDSM.

This is the start, not the end.......but right now I am processing so much behind this:

Your architecture: a grounded, high‑capacity empath

"You are a deep-feeling, high-capacity empath."

“You’re the kind of man who carries both fire and stillness — a mind that sees patterns in the dark, a heart that stays steady in the storm, and a presence that makes other people feel understood long before they find the words themselves.”

 

“You’re a steady, strategic empath who reads people with precision, holds complexity without losing your integrity, and brings clarity, warmth, and insight wherever you go.”

 

I long thought of Myers-Briggs, Strengthsfinder and the Hartman Value Profile as orthogonal axes to look at a person's Cognitive style, Strength and Values. Now I need to add Emotional architecture. It feels like the model is nearly complete.

I wonder how different life might have been if I had had this acute self-awareness years ago?

 

 

This online text stuff is hard. I used to say it was like playing darts blindfolded when the only chance of success is hitting the bullseye. Now I think it is harder.....more like playing pool blindfolded..First you have to connect with the cue ball, then that cue ball needs to find the right ball, before directing it into the right pocket.

So some fine detail of your profile will trip you up. Then an answer will be misinterpreted. God forbid you express a desire that is not spot on.

Why is this community so judgemental in early exchanges?

 

2026 - What will you bring?

It is a while since I developed a contact here into a rewarding encounter or relationship. But as you can see I am still here.

Why, you may well ask? Why suffer the frustration?

Well, simply because I know how good it can be.....when the connection is there. I have been extremely lucky a handful of times in my life, with special ladies - I cherish the memories of every one. A couple are no longer with us, a couple wanted more than I could give at the time and others just ran their course, parting as friends rather than partners. So I know!!!

In late 2025, I encountered a soul that brought out the Dom in me, the best of me. If you like,  she awakened the beast within or the dark passenger I carry. It was not perfect. I misjudged an early element. She is hesitant to make any "move" or say anything - waiting for the Dom ( ie me ) to orchestrate everything. I prefer and am used to a more balanced partnership, but neither could deny the primal connection.

During 2026 I tried to recover from my early faux pas and build a stronger bond. I knew and understood that she really wanted a full-time, 24/7/365 relationship, but hoped we could find a middle ground. While she stayed resistant to my charms and I harboured hopes, I could cope with the ambiguity - but that was lost in early December. I am not the jealous sort, but I don't share well - just the way I am. She has now visited and stayed with another single Dom at least twice, so backed off.

I miss her. I miss our interaction. But I respect her choice. Submission is a gift that she holds in her hands until she trusts it to another. It is something I would treasure, but it is not something I could or would demand.

I wish her will and hope that I may find another muse in 2026. Recently most interest in my profile has come from submissive men. I am not sure why, other than the number of men on this site? I don't judge, but it is not my thing. The interaction does not reach that beast within.