A letter to my husband

My Darling Nick,


Hello, sugar. I wanted to tell you I'm sorry for starting a conversation last night and then jumping ship on it. You're right - it does happen every couple of months, and I've been thinking about why. The why is because I still have such a hard time asking you for this, and every couple of months Grace, or Eva, or PK, or somebody else so very much like me has a break-through conversation with her husband and inspires and emboldens me.

So I screw up my courage and try to put a name to the strange and urgent needs within me, and invariably words fail me as soon as I open my mouth.. You probably don't realize it, but every such conversation starts about 10 minutes before I open my mouth. It happens entirely inside my head, and it goes something like this:

"Will you SAY something already?! This has been on your mind for a week!"

"No! I never put things the right way, and I always end up feeling stupid."

"Well, you can't expect him to be a mind reader. If you need his help, you're going to have to tell him."

"But I don't want to be such a hassle for him. I know he loves me and will try whatever I ask, but I also know he'll hate it and feel put upon."

"You don't know that. And it's not fair of you to assume."

"This is going to require me to open me up. And even though it's not his fault, I always end up hurt when we talk about this. He sits there and lets me ramble on and barely responds at all."

"That's because this is not his thing. He can't help it that he's not quivering with joy at the prospect of another awkward conversation about DD. But that doesn't mean he doesn't want to meet your needs."

"I know, but it would just be easier all around to let it go."

"Ah, yes, easier. Then you can just internalize it again. That's really going to help."

Well..."

"Seriously! Just open your mouth and jump right in!"

And so I finally start to say something, and two sentences in I realize that the moment has passed. You're heading off to watch TV, or running to the store, or turning over to go to sleep, and I feel like the equivalent of a phone ringing just as you lock the door behind you.

This, I understand, is not your intention. Nor, to be clear, is it your fault. My timing is unfailingly poor, although this is mainly because I spend all the good moments trying to talk myself into stirring the pot.

It is my fear of being burdensome that leads me to make such statements as in my post a couple of weeks ago; my fear, groundless though you've proven it to be, of finally becoming too much trouble and responsibility for this priceless, cherished, and irreplaceable man I've been blessed with.

And so here, with written word, in the medium in which I am most comfortable and coherent, I'm trying yet again to voice these needs, to speak them more or less aloud, to just get the words out.

I need this from you. I need DD in all its incarnations. I need the spanking, yes, but so much more than that simple act. I need the boundaries, the discipline, the unbreakable walls propping up my frailties. I need lecturing, I need grounding, I need lines, I need the distinct possibility and sometimes reality of a punishment that will last beyond the first round. I need paddlings daily until I finish the task I've been given, time in the corner to think about the spanking I've just had and the fact that there will be more to come in ten minutes' time. I need discipline that gets dished out at the first opportunity, even if that takes arranging, not just discipline when it's convenient and often days past the offense.

But most of that seldom comes up. I try not to give you reason to punish. What I really need most of all is for you to keep your eyes open to spot the signs of my rising stress levels. I need to be made to take care of myself, to be set back on an even keel, to have some sense spanked into me when I start to obsess about my job, the bills, my maddening friends.

And if I can have the latter, I rarely need the former. If I can feel you in charge, know at all times that I can count on you being firm if I need it, then I don't find myself pushing against those boundaries, pulling out that same tired tendency to passive aggressiveness. I need to know that you really believe in your own authority.

So. That's it, I suppose, everything I've been trying to say when I can't seem to say anything at all. Except, well, I love you, and thank you.

Madly, desperately yours,

Tracy