Home > Rayne > It’s Personal: I don’t need saving.

It’s Personal: I don’t need saving.

March 9th, 2015

Every time someone finds out about the hierarchy in my relationship, they try to save me.

When I worked at Bed, Bath, and Beyond, it was a strong black woman who proclaimed that no man should ever try to control his woman. The woman should do the controlling.

When I worked at the mansion, it was a wimpy white woman1 who desperately wanted out from under her husband’s thumb, and projected her desires and despair onto me.

Last week, it was a friend’s brother-in-law who doesn’t even know us.

It started like this.

We’re being harassed again. By a bunch of kids this time, which, I mean, it’s kid shit. But I’m so fucking over people fucking with me for no reason, and then there’s that anger problem I was talking about, and I’m about to lose my grip. Like, I need a vacation from my own fucking house. That is god damn ridiculous.

This time, I know for a fact we have done nothing to these people except ask them to leave us alone. We don’t live in the same building. We can’t hear them. They can’t hear us. The only time they see us is when we cross paths outside, which M and I now avoid in the hopes that being out of sight will keep us out of mind and they’ll leave us the fuck alone.

Anyway. I’ve been in my share of fights, but I generally don’t hit first, and this bitch not controlling her kid (we’ve spoken to her multiple times about his behavior) is making me want to rethink that course of action. Meaning I want to hit her, not the kid.

So when I went out to start the car, so we could visit a very good friend of ours who’s still not handling the death of his fiancee well, and I found paintballs on the door and the ground beside the car, it’s probably a good thing no one was home next door.

When we got to our friend’s house, his late fiancee’s brother was there. He’s a Bad Dude. And for whatever reason, he thinks I’m Little Miss Innocent trying to run with the Big Dogs. So when I was spouting off about wanting to beat this bitch’s face in, he told me I’d lost my mind, I was acting like a thug, and I needed to grow up.

Of course, these are all things I know, and if I didn’t, M just said them all. Not in quite the same way, but the same basic principle. But I was Pissed Off. I wasn’t done running my mouth. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and I wanted to vent my anger.

Dude talked to me like he was my dad. Then last week, again like he’s my dad, he said, “I see you’re still home.”

Imma pass on confrontation with this dude, if I can avoid it. So as much as I wanted to tell him I’m not some little girl who needs his protection and guidance, I just tossed him a smile and responded to someone else who was trying to get my attention.

As we were leaving, somebody said something about M dragging me out, or something, suggesting that he was acting out of turn, like I was the one in control. M said, “Our relationship doesn’t really work that way,” and I said, “Yeah, he’s the boss. That’s the way it works.” and “Dad” gave M attitude.

And look, I get it. Men who understand the problems with domestic abuse (and don’t understand BDSM) want to protect women they think are being abused. But dude’s in a house full of people who know M and me intimately. Before wearing yourself out jumping to conclusions, why not ask the people who know us if they think I’m in trouble? Because I can guaran-damn-tee that every single one will tell you that I’m not. That I’m happy. And that what goes on in our relationship is none of their business. But if they must know, I’m a freaky bitch, and I like it like that.

I don’t need to be saved. I’ve got two dads and a Daddy; I don’t need another. And frankly, your white knight syndrome is insulting. Kindly focus your attentions elsewhere.

By the way, I’m not going to hit her. Instead, I’m going to call the police. But having a bit of experience with calling the cops in Schenectady, I’m not really expecting to get much help.


P.S. I’m not that innocent, and I could give a fuck about the Big Dogs.

1. I realized, as I lay in bed last night, thinking about this post, that this sounds like the woman was abused, and I’m making fun of her. She was not abused. Or, at least, not in the physical sense. And she said she wasn’t being emotionally abused, either. But he controlled her every move, and she told us all it was because she was too weak to tell him when she wanted something contrary to what he wanted. That’s where “wimpy” comes from.

  1. March 9th, 2015 at 23:46 | #1

    Oh my god, you are living my life and must be my twin. I have anger issues, where I will be instantly pissed if someone is being stupid about something, and I will want to slap them upside the head, or at least tell them to fuck off. There are quite a few times over the years that I have done just that.

    My older kid’s who is 30, his Dad and my sister, that was adopted by his parents, always feel they need to be butting in on my business and telling me how to live my life. That I shouldn’t do this, and I shouldn’t do that. His Dad will not acknowledge Jolynn, or say her name in an email or in person. I happen to be 48 already, may not have made the best choices all the time, but for fuck’s sake, let me live my life already.

    I shouldn’t have told him about Taken In Hand, since he flipped out and said that my kids and their friends have already read it, and know too much, which I’m sure they haven’t. I said you know your son is kinky, which he does already know about, and he looked at me like he is just so put out. Kink is for the bedroom! We shouldn’t be putting our sex life out on the internet for all to see! The shame of it all!

    I say this post in my email, and I really needed to add my three cents about it. Hope people over by you get a grip and let you live your life.

    Big hugs to you,


  2. Heaven
    March 15th, 2015 at 21:52 | #2

    I think you handled every situation quite well. As far as that lady and kid go I don’t now if I would be able to control my temper for too long.

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