Home > rayne > You lead. I’ll follow.

You lead. I’ll follow.

dancingfeetLately, I’ve been exploring the vast sexblogosphere in an attempt to find more to read and write about and more people to socialize with.  Learn from.

I’ve said before this is really hard for me.  I allow people who are better at life than me to get me down.  Not that they’re out to make me, or anyone like me, feel like shit.  Just that I allow myself, usually, to feel like shit and wallow in it instead of just trying to fix what I see that I don’t like about myself.

I’m getting better.  I know I’m busting my ass to better myself, so I don’t get quite so upset when others, unwittingly, point out my failings.  And I’m less envious of what they have because I realize what I have is good and getting better every day.

Yesterday, I thought I’d start with blogs written by dominant men.  I have a particularly difficult time reading them because dominant men aren’t always as particular as submissive women about what they say or how they say it.

They’re often blunt and to the point.  They make no apologies for who they are.  And they’re not usually overly concerned with how their readers react to what they have to say.  Their way is the right way and that’s all there is to it.

It’s to be expected.  They’re dominant men.  By their very nature, they are very much “My way or the highway. ” people.  That’s what us submissive types like about them.

The first place I stopped was A View From the Top.  I read the title of David’s most recent post, Just Let Me Dance You, Give Yourself Over, and just sort of blinked at it.  I remembered something Master said a few days ago.  That I needed to stop barreling headlong into fixing myself without finding out, first, if that was what He wanted me to be working on.

In the post, David describes a man and woman on the dance floor.  He has instructed her to allow him to lead her.  To allow him to dance her.  He doesn’t want to dance with her.  He wants to lead her through the paces.  He wants her to follow.

I’m terrible about grabbing for the wheel.  I’m probably the worst side-seat driver in the world.  I point out red lights as if He can’t see them and tell Him it’s green a millisecond after it turns.  I bitch at Him for stepping on the breaks too hard or gunning the engine.  Well, before we sold the Durango, that is.

Not so much anymore.  He finally got through my head how irritating it is.  But I still try to do it in our relationship.

It’s part of the reason I’m laying low on FetLife.  I know if I go crazy reading and responding to threads, I’ll start to get an idea of how I think things should be going.  And if they’re not going that way, I’ll decide He’s just letting things go again and start letting things go myself.  Regardless of why they’re not going that way.

I keep trying to lead.  I convince myself He’s going to let go of the wheel, be it because He’s busy or because He’s not interested, and we’re going to go careening off a cliff.  So I try to take control.

And, to an extent, that’s okay.  If by taking control, I’m simply keeping myself in line and trying to better myself in ways He’s expressed an interest in without overstepping any bounds or causing any problems with His plans, then taking control can be a good thing.  It’s sort of a “remaining in my place while His attention is elsewhere” thing.  I guess it’s exactly that.

But if I’m just rambling off into unexplored territories, making decisions on my own that I’ve got no right to make, taking liberties I was never given, then I’m out of line.  Not only am I going against His wishes, but I’m going against what I claim to want to be.

Bottom line, though? I need to be following His lead for so many reasons.  Because He’s the boss.  Because He owns me.  Because I should trust Him.  Because it’s what I claim to want.  And because if I let Him lead, it’s not possible for me to be wrong.  I’m doing what I’m told.

I’m trying, Master.  You lead.  I’m happy to follow.

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  1. August 6th, 2009 at 12:25 | #1

    Rayne,

    I had to chuckle at your car anolagy. I’m just the opposite, I won’t say anything as a passenger; but that’s because I’m the world’s worst driver. I’m so bad that I gave it up decade ago. My chuckling was because I was the person who needed you in the passenger seat telling me about thoise lights and such…

    Dave

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