I thought my head would explode tonight. I've probably been this frustrated before, but in the heat of the moment I can't recall.

Life has been stressful these days and I felt the need to spent an evening in submission. To be that true self that I have to hide in public, that slowly eats away at my inside and rears its ugly head when life gets tough.

So I posted an ad and found a woman who new to the lifestyle, but incredibly turned on by the thought of having a man fulfill her every wish and whim. She was also quite beautiful, so I met her.

After a truly glorious evening of baseball, perhaps the greatest end to any season, we met for a drink. We spoke cautiously about our vanilla selves and felt one another out. I should have known I was in trouble then; women who make a connection to my vanilla side rarely have the heart to degrade me.

So we went back to her place and she tentatively asks me to strip for her. As I do, her mouth curled not into a smirk, but the same grin girls have shown me since high school.

Soon she was on top of me, kissing me and telling me how special I was.

This woman decided that our meeting was "fate" and she was going to "fix me" and teah me to be "the man".

Why is it that so many women misunderstand a submissive's longings? Countless vanilla women have tried to "cure" me. As if taking control and being dominant were a difficult task that a man needed to be helped through.

Being dominant in a vanilla sense is easy. Society expects us to be alpha, dominant men. To make the decision that we will fulfill our desires, to submit to a woman, to open ourselves up and admit these desires that are less common and misunderstood... That is the thing that takes courage. 

In any case, the next hour consisted of this beautiful woman telling me how wonderful she thought I was, how attractive she found me, how she loved my intelligence and wit... And I hated every moment of it. From the outside it must have been high comedy. I told her that I was happy with who I was, that I didn't need to be fixed and the suggestion that I might in some way be broken was deeply offensive. And she wouldn't stop.

She insisted she wanted to teach me how to feel loved (as if that wasn't what every woman has ever tried to give me) and I tried to get her to understand that it was disrespectful to replace her judgement for my own and to refuse to treat a human being as they wish to be treated.

In may ways, being kinky has given me a window into what it must be life to be gay. We are born with these desires, to suppress them and deny them is to live a deeply unhappy and unhealthy existence, but the world tells us that we are wrong. What makes us happy is wrong. And we should change.

I don't want to change. I just want someone I can be myself around. Who will accept and enjoy my submissive side.

And sometimes I wonder if I'll ever find that woman, or if the loneliness of the life not lived will grow to be too great a burden to carry and I'll see to retreat from the world into the big sleep.