Le Coeur A Sa Raison

Felt a little blue today. The connection thing discussed below, to be sure. I am like a little leather baloon, unteathered and drifting.

But I realized another thing, too. Y'see, I really want to be in a relationship. And it's getting to the point that I want to be in any relationship. Well, not just any relationship. A power-imbalance relationship, so called. Now that presents something of a problem. I am not in a position--given the claims on my time right now, and... oh yeah... the fact that I live with my father--to be the Sir in said relationship. So that leaves me as the boy.

And I'm not thrilled with that. For one thing, my options are limited. Because I live here in Bucks County. The other night, I did a search on WorldLeathermen. (If you pay the $26.43 or whatever to become a member, the dynamic search feature is pretty exceptional. FYI.) So I searched on all the profiles with the keyword 'Sir,' in the United States, with the range of the role defined as 100% Active to 70% Active, and the age range from 37 to 69. Oh. And with Images on their profile, cause if you ain't got the testicular fortitude to put your face on the World Wide Internet, you're probably not someone I'm interested in.

Up came a raft of Sirs. Lots of 'em. But the locations in the profiles were dispiriting. Nests of them in Florida, Texas, California, Chicago, Boston, DC. A few in such farflung places as Wichita, Green Bay, Tulsa and the like. But within an hour and a half of me? Well, let's just say the pickings were pretty slim.

And, there's the Top Shelf issue.

Wuzzat? Something that Sylvia Plath wrote about, I can't remember whether it was in her journals or in The Bell Jar. She wrote in the context of going to college in the '50s. As a freshman co-ed, she had her pick of dates, from her fellow freshmen on up to the seniors. But, as a sophomore girl dating a freshman was simply not done, with every year, her options narrowed. Until, finally, she sat alone on the top shelf as a senior, having pretty much exhausted most of the possibilities in the previous three years.

Syl' opined that so it was with life. As you grow older, not only do your options narrow, but there are fewer and fewer people out there opting for you.

Now, I know that 'boy' is not a term defined by age in leatherdom, but c'mon. When I think about collaring a boy, I think of some well-formed, mature for his age but still impressionable younger man.

Cutting to the chase, not a forty year old.

Now, I'm verrrry un-ageist in my predilections. The men with whom I've had vanilla relationships have tended to be ten years my senior.

(Yo. What's up with that? How come it was never a problem finding a steady eddie in vaniladom? Okay. That's not valid. Special Guy was not a denizen of vanilladom.)

Yeah.

Sorry.

Bitch bitch bitch. Whine whine whine. Complain complain complain. You might as well be reading the blog of some fifteen year old.

Well, the hunt continues.

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