I have been sitting apparently staring out the window at the falling snow, while in reality seeing nothing but the scenarios rolling through my head.
I’m heading to the dungeon tonight, assuming the snow stops as forecast. For the first time, I will have my own play bag with my own toys. I already feel like a conspicuous imposter. I’ve been exploring my switchy side for a a bit now and I’m taking that side out on my first planned adventure.
I wrote fet notes to my dungeon compadres, taking an attendance straw poll, hoping for a couple of friendly faces as I officially begin this phase of my journey. Neither of the two women who I look for most often will be there. I was(am) truly disappointed.
This got me thinking about how different things are in the lifestyle. These two females, whom I barely know anything about, I call friends. In the muggle world they would be considered friendly acquaintances yet, in the dungeon, they are friends.
I mentally cataloged the things I know about them. I don’t know any of the tidbits I would know if they brushed my daily life. I don’t know what either of them do for a living. I don’t know the cities in which they live. I don’t know their living situations.
I do know one of them is divorced. I do know the other is not married. I do not know if her husband died or if they are divorced. I know one of them has children. This is only because of the “Hey are you going to [insert event]? – I don’t know. It will depend if I have the kids that weekend.” conversations.
I have seen both of them naked. I have helped both of them dress. Both have solicited me for advice – some casual, some significant. I have seen one of them consensually beat, shock, and torture people. I have seen the other consensually bound, beaten, and crying.
How strange it is this sect which we populate. How interesting the shifting definition of “friend”.