A blog reader the other day responded to a piece I wrote reminding me how lucky I am with my Master and Princess and it made me smile because I really really am. Not only they are kind and loving and delightfully filthy and I enjoy their company immensely, but the whole relationship is essentially like winning the lottery in lots of ways.
My path with my Master crossed absolutely by chance through the mutual friends of mutual friends and it’s unlikely we’d ever met on any other occasion. The fact I didn’t mind the open nature of his relationship with Princess certainly got us off to a good start while the chances of us being equally filthy and having such mutually compatible kinks was the second stroke of luck.
The next bit that worked out was that I finally stopped querying everything he suggested me in a fit of self doubt and trusted his logic that he liked Princess and he liked me and so we’d like each other and started fucking her as well.
I don’t think any of the three of us expected that to work out quite as well as it did and that we’d be so compatible together. I know they joke about people like me who with a couple being called a unicorn but there really is some truth in how rare and unusual it is for such relationships to work out so well.
I feel incredibly lucky each time I think what’s developed out what was basically a chance meeting to begin with and I’m sure anyone would appreciate such a stroke of fate. But for me there is the added feeling of luck meeting not one, but two people who understand me being disabled.
Most people think of disability as using a wheelchair (or more accurately that horrible expression ‘wheelchair bound’) so being invisibly disabled by illness confuses people immensely especially when you are dating which when you are supposed to be impressing people.
There’s trying to find the right moment to mention it and make it clear it’s an important part of my life but not make it the only thing about me. Do you talk about while you’re still at the exchanging email stage when it makes people imagine the worst most disabling forms of disability that freaks them out? Or do you wait til you meet in person and you look ‘normal’ to them in the pub with your pint so they don’t think you are ‘really’ disabled?
Doing it in person puts you both on the spot. I often feel the need to balance medical privacy with convincing them my relatively unknown condition really does exist* while giving them a comfortable Disneyfied version of chronic illness so they don’t climb out the toilet window to get away from you in disappointment at how their date has gone.
Disclosing something personal like a disabling illness seems to broach early dating etiquette for many people like you’ve just given them a political spiel or offered to compare income. People’s responses range between immediately changing the subject to convincing me why I’m wrong to use the word disabled because I don’t look disabled or tell me I’m not in fact ill because they’ve never heard of my illness and I just need to try yoga/more sleep/leeches/thinking positively or whatever it was their’s mum’s friend’s dogsitter’s cousin did to cure the same condition and problem solved.
It’s always always caused an issue. Even if they aren’t full of their own feelings and opinions on illness and disability, it causes a pause like a dropped stitch in a line of knitting as we struggle to get the flow of the date back to exchanging our best anecdotes in the most charming way possible.
Because even if they get it, it’s let the elephant into the room and the rest of the date comes down to how long before he points it out and I have to wrangle it in response. The big grey shadow of the disability discussion is that people always always want to know if you can still have sex and it’s just a matter of time before they ask.
I mean I get that that seems like a genuinely relevant question on a date if you fancy someone but it presumes that I want to have sex with them too and ignores that there’s plenty of non disabled reasons someone might not be able to have sex so becomes as invasive and rude as me asking if he’ll be able to get it up after a fifth pint. You can see why casual sex with little conversation appealed to me so much for so long.
I think I trusted my Master the minute I told him about my illness when we first met and not only he did he not ask that question, but I could tell he was thinking about fucking me and simply working round anything my illness made difficult rather than simply waiting for a polite moment to enquire.
And that’s exactly what he’s done throughout our relationship and it never feels like a particular issue even when I’m not quite well enough for him for fuck me senseless. Both he and Princess know my body well enough for my illness just to become one part of me and our relationship and that acceptance makes me feel incredibly lucky.
So if you ever meet anyone with any kind of disability or chronic illness I hope I’ve given you some pointers on what not to do if you want to get lucky with them…
*(I’d rather not mention it by name here as it makes me very identifiable in real life not because I’m awkward about it.)