Coming Home

18 Jun

It wasn’t an easy trip home yesterday.  Lots of rain, off and on the whole way.  Going 50 miles an hour, peering through the windshield, trying to make up for lost time once i got out of the downpour.

My GPS routed me a weird way, which the Florida Dom i was talking to early in the morning said was shorter, but i have my doubts. {Not the famous blogging Florida Dom, another collarme Dom who just happens to live near Where-i-Was.  We were supposed to have coffee, but i got routed a different way and didn’t go through his town.}

Hit rush hour in the only big city i had to go through.

And then, when i was finally almost home, just an hour away – traffic stopped.  On the expressway.  Dead stop.  i sat there for maybe 5 minutes {tick-tock, tick-tock, omigod, am i gonna be here the rest of my life?}  Six minutes and i decided to get off the expressway altogether.  

Fortunately, i was right by an exit, so i zipped off.  Got directions on how to go around the mess.  And eventually wound my way back on the road again.

Now, through all these trials and tribulations, GW was keeping me company.  It might have been nicer if i could have just clicked my heels together and actually been at home yesterday, but i’m pretty sure it’s not going to work like that.  On  the other hand, every hour or so, i’d get a message from him.

He reminded me to take breaks. 

He made me ~ well, insisted in a Domly manner ~ that i take time to eat.

He stayed up with me, even though it got really late Where-He-Lives, all the way through that last leg of the trip.  Which actually gave me more time to reply, since it involved red lights and even waiting for  a train to pass.

Sweet.  It was just sweet of him, although he says not, he says he’s a big, bad Dom.  And yes, {nodding} i’m sure he is.

He even sent me words of encouragement ~ in Greek ~ towards the very end.  

And i survived, made it home perfectly ok.  With a couple of questions.

If i’m such an independent, competent woman, which i am, why did the fact that he wouldn’t leave me til i made it to my very own driveway touch me so deeply, make me feel so good, that i cried?

And if it made me feel that good, why did i keep telling him i was ok, he could go to bed?

 

8 Responses to “Coming Home”

  1. Mick June 18, 2011 at 6:24 am #

    none of us are so strong and independent that it doesn’t feel good to know someone gives a rats ass. Mick

    • aisha June 18, 2011 at 10:16 am #

      Laughing… I know Mick, but feeling taken care of just undoes me.

      Sent from my iPhone

  2. thesubmissivebf June 18, 2011 at 11:48 am #

    Everybody needs somebody. You crave to be taken care of and loved, embrace it instead of fighting it.
    Glad you made it home safely.

    • aisha June 18, 2011 at 6:47 pm #

      Damn, Sbf, that’s another one of those “things I say to my clients” things. Thanks.

      And thanks. 🙂

      hugs,

      aisha

  3. sin June 18, 2011 at 12:04 pm #

    I think it makes us feel cared about. And we all like that as Mick says. But there’s another part too, the part of us that likes to hear “good girl”. There’s some connection with that part here too. At least I think so. He sounds nice. And maybe kind of smitten. Even though he’s in Scotland. And yeah, he COULD be futher away. Though not much.

    • aisha June 18, 2011 at 6:59 pm #

      @Sin,

      Yes. You’re right. There is that good girl piece. I bought a tuna salad sandwich and he was pleased with me and I felt ridiculously virtuous. How cool is that?

      He is nice.

      yeah.

      aisha

  4. nancy June 18, 2011 at 12:08 pm #

    I know how you feel.. being taken care of makes me cry , melts me into mush at the strangest moments!
    Glad you made it home and had company on the way.

    • aisha June 18, 2011 at 7:03 pm #

      O, good! That makes me feel better! Thanks!!!!!

      aisha

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: