Vanilla is the finest of the flavors

I was talking to a friend recently, and he told me that his ex had enjoyed watching Monk with him, but he wasn't sure if she really liked it or if she just liked it because he did.

I told him that it's a greater expression of love to like something because the other person does than to just like it all on your own.

When I said it, I remembered how long I've struggled with my husband's intrinsic vanilla. I longed for him to want kink for himself, on his own, independent of my desire for it. The man will do anything for me, truly, anything. Why on earth did I ever feel the need to sully that?

I like vanilla, it's the finest of the flavors.

It intensifies everything from chocolate to raspberry. I have the biggest bottle of vanilla in my cabinet, because I use it in everything.

My husband is the excellent sort of vanilla that you add to everything to make it more intense. Kinky girl + fine, pure vanilla husband = intensely hot kinky stuff.

I wanted it to be about him, because I wanted to submit to him, yes. He does get off on dominating me, even though it may be more about how much it turns me on. But what does it matter why it gets him off? It just does, and that's enough. It's more than enough, and lately it's become even better to me, because he gets off on dominating me because it excites me. I'm not a submissive woman he's chosen because he needs a kinky girl to match his own kink. He chose me for me. My submission was a part of that all along, but it wasn't a deal-breaker one way or the other. I am his submissive woman, and he knows he can have me do anything he wants. Mostly he just wants me to be happy. Why would I struggle with that? Silly, silly submissive girl. What the man really, truly wants is for you to be happy. Submit, already!

I struggled because it didn't feel like submitting, to just be happy, to enjoy him, us, the way we are together. To just offer myself to him, with no fight, no rules, to present myself for spanking, or flogging, or sex. To even take over in bed sometimes, to lavish affection all over his body with my hands and mouth, show him just how much I adore him, how much I desire him even if he doesn't lift a finger, even if he doesn't hurt me, didn't feel like submitting, but it is. I know he could change what I'm doing at any time, make me stop, tie me up, spank me, anything. That's how he's still in control.

Is that what submission looks like? That's what mine looks like, and it's good. We're blissfully happy.

Some switch in my head flipped (yeah, another switch), and I'm softer to him, more submissive, more compliant to pretty much any whim of his. You want some chocolate, love? I think I can get you some chocolate.

He wrote me this, among some other things, in a letter he sent me for my birthday last month (quoted with his permission):

I really dig your devotion to me... I suspect it may potentially be inflating my ego on occasion, but it feels really, really special to be loved and desired so much. I may feel a tad bit awkward reading your blog about our activities, but I can't deny it's incredibly hot and flattering as well. On that note, I really love pushing your buttons and am delighted we have the wonderful sex life that we have. 

Did I mention you rock and I am very much in love with you? Being without you always has a sense of loneliness attached to it. The only way I feel completely at peace is with my body pressed against yours. Makes everything better. As you know I'm a big fan of our morning snuggle moments and feel sad when we miss out on them.

[...]

I love you and I hope you enjoy your birthday my beautiful, thank you so much for being mine and being so good to me.

 Yours forever,

 husband

Writing doesn't come easily to him, so I can only imagine it took him some time to write that, along with everything else he put into that letter. But he did it for me, because he knows how much I value the words. I write for the joy of writing - he writes for the joy the words will bring me.

He serves me by letting me serve him, by doing delicious, incredible things with our bodies, by pushing all the right buttons at all the right times. His ability to press those buttons, to take me to those places, just makes me love him more, be more devoted to him, trust him with every fiber of my being, and want him forever. He brings that trust and that love into every single thing we do together, whether it be making dinner or writhing in ecstasy or building a house. He is present, he is mine, and I am his.

And that, by jove, that, is way, way better for me than if he had come dominant, if that was just the way he started. He's dominant because that's what I need. Like the empathic metamorph Kamala, he became my perfect mate. What's not to like?

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Apparently March is question and answer month in the great realm of the blogosphere. I'm compelled to answer any questions you want to put to me, right out here in public.

Unless it puts me at risk of outing myself, of course.