I Miss… I Don’t Miss


Every morning I still awaken with the thought of how much I miss you, how much I want to be with you again, how much I miss being in your arms.

And then my mind changes course, and I correct it with the new thought what I miss is the good parts, not the bad. And I try to remember what they all were…

I miss the love, the caring, the making love for hours on end.

I miss the day to day ease that sometimes characterized our time together, when it did.

I miss the feel of you inside me and wrapped around me, holding me tight. I miss your arms around me, your being there when I went to sleep and when I woke up.

I miss the passionate nights and mornings, the incredible way we always fit together so perfectly. I miss your weight on top of me, and the way you hurt me as you plunged deeply, over and over, hurting me just the way we both need.

I miss the sound of your voice as your excitement built, calling me a fucktoy and more, the cries that escaped when you reached your peak, the feel of you shooting deep and hard within me, filling me to overflowing, completing me, becoming part of me over and over again, absorbing part of you into my very essence.

I miss knowing I could bring you that much pleasure.

I miss the hours of orgasms, the emotional settling that they brought, the knowing how much it pleased you that you could pleasure me so much, that my responsiveness fed something deep and elemental within you.

I so miss the feel of your collar around my neck.

I miss knowing I belonged to you, that that was immutable and inevitable.

I miss knowing yow owned my heart and soul, and believing that I was in your heart as well.

I miss hearing you say “I love you”, and knowing the truth of it from your tone and actions.

I miss the play, when it was good, as it improved.

I miss that it was improving for me.

I miss the complete trust I had in you in the beginning.

I miss the ongoing basic trust in you, the complete belief in you, even though you never believed me.

I miss the trust, when it was there, the feeling of it starting to grow again every time it was broken, the feeling of it solidifying when we were able to work issues out.

I miss the times you were kind and loving.

I miss that domly tone, when it came out.

I miss how you used to work things out with me in the beginning, the way it worked when it really did, the increased intimacy it always brought.

I miss how you took care of me when I was sick.

I miss your smile, when it came out, your sense of humor.

I miss your looking out for my every day needs and safety.

I miss your directing what we did together, the music, the way you expressed your love by cooking for me.

I miss the intimacy of all of those evenings together alone at home. Your home. My home.

I miss the warmth and cocoon of just being together alone in front of the fire, the curtains shut against the rest of the world.

I miss being there when you came home from work, seeing you off in the morning and rolling back over in your bed to sleep and dream some more. To waking up in your bed, even alone.

I miss your quick mind, its encyclopedic contents.

I miss the flowers you’d bring me for no reason.

I miss how I know you did try to please me in many ways.

I miss your glee when a package of new toys or clothes you’d order would arrive. I miss the anticipation of finding out what was in store.

I miss your pleasure when something *did* fit and looked good.

I miss just snuggling with you, your arms around me.

I miss the times when I felt safe in your dominance, when I was able to let go with you.

I miss our nightly calls that were such a touchstone in my day.

I miss the quiet companionship of just being home alone together doing different things, even in different rooms, but especially when together in the same one.

I miss the pattern of our evenings, just setting the table, then washing the dishes.

I miss looking at the night sky and stars with you. It hurts too much now to even look up, indeed to even be outside at night.

I miss knowing you were always there, my anchor, my love, my need.

I miss there being an “us”…

When I am missing, I am craving, crying, wanting, needing, praying, begging…

But then I also remember…

I don’t miss the fear, the increasing feel of having to walk on eggshells with you.

I don’t miss never knowing whether Dr. Jeckyl or Mr. Hyde would show up. I don’t miss living with all of that uncertainty.

I don’t miss your temper tantrums, pouting and sulking when things didn’t go as you planned, and you didn’t get what you wanted.

I don’t miss the continual violations of limits, the fluidity with which you appeared viewed them, the endless struggle to get you to respect them; indeed, to even remember them at times.

I don’t miss the endless battle to try to get you to practice more with your toys to increase your accuracy, so that I could feel more safe.

I don’t miss your accusations that I was faking pain or difficulty breathing to avoid playing with you.

I don’t miss how often you ignored my needs when a scene went bad, how you cared only that you didn’t get what you wanted. How often you stomped around in anger, and denied me the aftercare I needed, indeed, even to cover me to keep me warm, even when my teeth were chattering from the cold, until I finally had to ask – and how you just threw my robe or a cover at me.

I don’t miss having to be the one to turn around and take care of you instead at those times.

I don’t miss having to swim back up out of subspace when you’d stop the scene because you thought I’d fallen asleep, to have to reassure you that I really did want to continue, only to be met with pouting and sulking and disbelief. That you never figured out when I was, in fact, flying high, never believed me when I told you I was.

I don’t miss how you tried to always stuff me into clothing and shoes that didn’t fit and insist that I deal with it, even when doing so caused me horrible bad pain and asthma attacks, completely eliminating any possibility of getting into the scene itself, or the headspace I needed.

I don’t miss that you wouldn’t consult me on what I thought would fit, wouldn’t just take me to a store to try things on first or get something custom made, despite repeated evidence that it was next to impossible to find anything otherwise.

I don’t miss that you took out your resentment when nothing you did buy fit me *on* me.

I don’t miss the repeated crushing of my trust just as it started to grow again.

I don’t miss that your desires always trumped my physical and emotional needs.

I don’t miss how so many scenes went bad because you wouldn’t listen to me about how I was feeling that night, about my very ability to breathe.

I don’t miss that you never believed how much I did believe in you, how much I wanted to be able to submit to you.

I don’t miss how you never could see how that inability to submit to you was rooted so deeply in your own violations of my limits.

I don’t miss your shutting me out more and more instead of letting me in.

I don’t miss your blaming me for the lack of transparency when you yourself didn’t bring issues up, didn’t work with me to work through them and just sulked about them.

I don’t miss the unhappiness that grew and grew until it threatened to drown me.

I don’t miss your obvious resentment of my rhythms, that late nights were *never* a good time for me to start playing, especially when already tired, sore, and full from dinner. That that meant that Friday nights in particular were always especially difficult, no matter how much I wanted to be with you and to please you, because of the physical pain from the trip there, and finishing dinner so late.

I don’t miss your blaming me for your own lack of feeling domly, for putting that control of your own sense of your own self into my hands and then resenting that I couldn’t submit to you when you’d left me with nothing to submit *to*.

I don’t miss your still expecting me to submit to you even when you didn’t even take care of my most basic safety and emotional needs.

I don’t miss your telling me what I thought, what I felt, what I believed, and not listening to what *I* said.

I don’t miss your attacks on me instead of working with me.

I don’t miss your twisting my words, projecting your own thoughts onto me, your contradicting what you yourself just said and then trying to blame me, and then attacking me for what *you* thought was going on.

I don’t miss your arrogance.

I don’t miss your narcissism.

I don’t miss your lies and your twisting of the truth and what I said.

I don’t miss your never apologizing when you hurt me in any way, even by accident, or even when you hit my car with yours and damaged it.

I don’t miss your dismissing the efforts I made to find fetishwear that would please you, rejecting what I selected and spent a fortune on as not good enough, not slutty enough, too pretty. How motivating do you think that was for me to even keep trying?

I don’t miss your not even being able to see what I tried to give you and do for you because you were so mired in the belief that I/your wife were just takers.  I asked you once if she had ever offered to do some of the things you objected to doing yourself eventually and if you turned her down, and you didn’t know.  I asked because that *is* what you did with me.  I can’t count how many times I wanted to do something to help or please you, and you wouldn’t let me and usually just rushed in to do it your own self.

I don’t miss your cutting me off when I complained about something or talked about problems in my life, and yet expected me to listen to your long list of complaints repeatedly and without objection, night after night after night, for years on end.

I don’t miss your misguided belief that you were the best thing that ever happened to me, the implied threat that if one of us left, that I’d never find anyone better.

I don’t miss the packing, loading the car, the driving, every single weekend myself, with few exceptions, even after the accident, when I was in agony.  I resent the living fuck out of the fact that despite that agony, and terror of driving, you *still* expected me to come to you instead of you coming up here.

I don’t miss having to spend my whole week at home recovering from the weekend’s pain and disrupted sleep.

I don’t miss the eventual feeling of obligation to call you each night, that you wouldn’t call me.

I don’t miss worrying what it meant when you suddenly started to call me early in the evening yourself, out of character with the usual pattern.

I don’t miss your complete lack of understanding of why I felt threatened by things like you flirting with others, playing with others, exchanging sexual remarks with others.  Your complete lack of willingness to get that.

I don’t miss your quickly shutting down Fetlife or your email when you noticed me come into the room, unlike how you usually left everything else open, even when I was leaning over your shoulder. Including Fetlife and your email, when they contained something clearly completely innocent.

I don’t remember when my anticipation of seeing you and excitement turned to dread at *having* to go to you. When my looking forward to your emails yielded to fear of even seeing one there, never mind opening it, never knowing what I would find, which R. would be showing up. I don’t miss any of that.

But most of all…

I miss the loss of the hope, the belief I had in you all along, no matter what bad things happened.

I miss the loss of the dreams.

I miss the trust that was there at the start, that really would always start to build again after being repeatedly crushed, no matter that you never believed it.

But I no longer believe it would ever be fully safe to be with you, to fully let go with you on an ongoing basis the way I have always so desperately wanted to do, that you could never see.

I miss the hope that the good things from every day mundane life could eventually translate to the play and the whole relationship.

I miss believing we had a long and happy future together ahead of us.

I still miss my blinders as to what really *was* instead of what I thought *could* be.

Because I no longer believe it is possible, or that it ever *was* possible, to have what we both so wanted, what I really did believe we could have had together until the very end, what could have been. Indeed, what we might have actually had if not for all of the things I don’t miss…

And I see how misguided my ongoing belief in that was, in the face of all of the “if only’s”, despite our mutual desires, despite always wanting the same basic things…

I no longer believe you are or could have ever been the man you thought you were and who you wanted to be, who I so needed.  The man I thought you were.

I no longer believe you were as committed as even you wanted to believe.

I no longer believe that you really wanted the woman who *would* match the commitment you said you had to working things out, that you could handle actually having it, or having one who would work at it even harder than you would.

I believe that you are too stuck in your beliefs that you cannot have what you want, that the women in your life just want to hurt you, to be able to see what’s right there in your hands, right in front of your own eyes, to just reach out and take.

I stopped believing you were a dominant instead of domineering and abusive long ago, and I desperately miss that and being able to truly submit to you, to be able to grow in that submission into everything we both wanted and needed. I tried desperately to keep it alive and to believe, but I couldn’t do so enough to give you what we both wanted. I simply couldn’t work in that vacuum.

I no longer believe you ever cared enough about me to really take care of me when it most counted, when I was most vulnerable. Because you didn’t, time after time after time.

I no longer believe it was even really *me* you ever saw, but only your own fantasy projection of what I represented in your own mind and dreams. There is so much about me that you have never known, never explored…

I no longer believe that much of what I thought were honest mistakes actually were. I no longer believe that you truly had my best interests at heart in play.  You accused me of it being “Always about [me]”, but the reality is that all I was doing was trying to protect myself.  From you.

I no longer believe that you are smart enough to get all of these things that you didn’t get, that you have the emotional capacity.

I miss the hope and belief that any of this could ever change, although I know intellectually that it’s for the better to know differently now, to end the false beliefs, and that one day my heart will also know it…

Because in the end, the things I don’t miss carried more weight than the ones I do, because of how deeply they cut, how badly they undermined everything, over and over again.

And the loss of all of the good, as well as the beliefs that we could still have it all, breaks my heart into little tiny pieces that will never fully heal…

Why, R.? Why?

I don’t think I will ever understand…

Or actually, I do understand. I understand more completely than you will ever know. I know exactly where it has all come from for you, exactly how you set it all up and why. I know that you tried, but that you are just not at a place in your own development where you can be any different than you are, just as you said, but for a different reason than I think you believe. You *can* be different, but you *think* you can’t. You *can* find the balance without losing the essence and the needs. You *can* get those needs fulfilled while leaving Mr. Hyde behind. In fact, you will *only* be able to find that fulfillment once you *do* allow these changes to happen in your life, once you do face that not only *can* you change these elements eventually, but that you *must*.

I grieve for you as much as for myself and us, my Love. Because I still love you so much, and I see that you are so stuck in your fantasies and projections that I don’t believe you’ll ever find a way to reconcile them with reality, with the real needs of real human beings. And in that failure, you will never be able to find what you are looking for, because it’s not out there. Because the creation of it starts within yourself, and the nurturing of it must come from the same place as well. You must be the one to set the tone for a D/s relationship, must have the personal strength and self control to create and hold a safe space for your submissive to be able to fall into and land safely.  And you must be the one to maintain it.

I do still believe that it’s in you, but not that you will ever find the key to be able to unlock it and let it out to blossom and grow, and without that, there will never be the peace and comfort of the relationship you seek, at least not in the long run. There will be submissives with different limits, but no sane person on the planet will let you overrun whatever their own limits are any more than I let you overrun mine.

I hope that one day you will see the truth of this all and free yourself, but I no longer believe it will happen, certainly not with me, certainly not soon. I believe you will hurt others and be hurt again, probably repeatedly, not recognizing the root of it all within your own self, the ways that you are the one who sets it all in motion. And I grieve that you will have to go through that, and that you will put other innocent people through it. It used to make me angry to know this, but now it just brings me sadness and grief.

I believe it’s possible that maybe one day you will realize what you have left behind, and maybe even want to return. But I will not be waiting. I will not be holding my breath. I will not be living with that hope or belief in the face of reality ever again, with you or anyone else.  And I will never put myself through anything like this again.

I love you so much it hurts. I’d truly have gone to the ends of the earth with you, but you wouldn’t go there with me, wouldn’t let me lead us both there, when I could see where we needed to go and you either couldn’t or wouldn’t.

I wish you would stop your ongoing nasty attacks on me, all of the twisting of my words, feelings, and motivations. I wish I hadn’t said as much as I have to others. I wish we could find a way to let this go peacefully and remain friends, both of us.

I want to wish you peace and happiness even without me, my Love, but I’m still too raw, too hurt, too jealous, too angry. I know it will come in time. And I hope it will be soon, because I hate living with this upset and anger…

I suppose I should thank you for finally cutting it off and starting to end the pain for us both when I lacked the strength to do so myself despite thinking about it for so long, but God, I still wanted to believe, still wanted to try, still just wanted too much… I wish I’d had the strength to do it so long ago when I first realized it was really necessary, to have spared us both so much pain. But God, the good was still so damn good, and I still believed, still hoped, still thought there would be one more thing I or we could try that would turn the tide…

I will always love you, R. I will always miss what really was so good.

But I will never miss the pain that we have gone through or want to live with it again, and the good could never have balanced out what was wrong.



And the truth of the matter is, I miss loving you instead of hating you.  Your magnetic pull reaches out to me whenever I see you, and I find myself starting to fall for you again, to long to be in your arms.  But I can’t go there, and even if you begged me to take you back, I couldn’t.

I ask myself, “Why, R?”  And the only answer that exists is that it’s because this is who you are.  Dr. Jeckyl is the act; Mr. Hyde is the reality.  It *is* who you are.  And someday I will feel true compassion for you in that again, and forgiveness.  But I do already pity you…



A few months back, I was finally able to recover a bunch of email I’d lost a few years ago in a computer crash, including our earliest exchanges with one another.

There, just as I thought I’d remembered seeing it, was the written proof that you lied to me then about when you separated from your wife.

When you first approached me on Alt in June 2005, you told me you were basically separated and about to initiate a divorce, and sometime in July or so, you told me specifically that the separation had occurred in May of that year.  We both know full well that it didn’t actually happen until early August – just a few days before the Janus orientation when you joined, which was, of course, the day we met in person.

Which of course I didn’t know at the time, until *after* we’d already met and started to get involved in person – after months of long, intimate email exchanges.

You maintain your innocence because we didn’t actually meet in the flesh and start playing and having sex until, what, about two weeks after you kicked your wife out of the house?   Yes, kicked her out, rather than leaving yourself – but of course, that’s a whole ‘nuther story by itself, isn’t it?  Along with how you treated your agreement with her about who you’d bring there – or not – dragging *me* into the middle of your own violated agreement with her.  I should have left you right then and there, when you revealed that to me, and very nearly did.

But I’ve known for a long time now that you were lying about the separation – and I finally found the documentation of just how far back those lies actually went.

I also found some paperwork you left here at my house one of the last times you were here (before we broke up) that clearly documents that you were, in fact, involved in *something* with N/D well before our breakup – as I knew already, of course, and which you probably still deny.  But you left something really damning here, in writing, along with a bunch of other papers you tossed at the same time.

And this isn’t counting all of the letters/email in which you detailed how you and I were still in a relationship even after you’d gone back to your wife for a while and we were definitely *not* seeing one another in any way, although you kept sending occasional emails, letters, and even gifts.  God, the twisting is beyond belief.  The way all of that reads, you were cheating on us both with each other at the same time.

Or the ones in which you talk about how “magnanimous” you were about “agreeing” not to see me before round two before you actually separated again, and in which you somehow think that the one time I did break down and fuck you before that wasn’t cheating.

Horse-fucking-shit.  You were *absolutely* cheating on your wife – and I know it full well, because I was there.  Duh.

You even had the gall to ask me to be your mistress until you moved out – complete with your still going home to her afterwards.  Which of course I rejected out of hand, as I should have entirely rejected *you* at that point.

But once again, you claimed to be separated already – by dint of having decided the marriage was over – even though you were still living in the same house and sleeping in the same bed as your wife.  Neither “not having sex any more” nor “having already decided the marriage was over” define “separation”, I hate to break it to you.

If I really regret anything, it’s *not* having ever gone through your email when I first got really suspicious about N/D in particular.  I’m just not that type, though, and God, I really still wanted to believe you, up until the end, when you’d made it completely impossible…

But you’re a liar, R/C.  End of story.  A liar and a cheater.  And I don’t miss that one little bit.

I also have reason to believe that you were likely cheating on N/D, too, for that matter (and can document it), but that’s another story.

And it sure looks from a whole lot of data points like you have, in fact, left the very swath of relationship destruction I predicted so long ago…  Wow, you’re on your *fourth* collar in less than three years!  Are you proud of that?

Yet you apparently still consistently maintain that you never cheated on anyone.  (And what about what you told me about your relationship with M when you were still in high school?  Hmmm?  Hmmm?)

Do you see the pattern *yet*?  Well, I do, and so do others who have known you a very, very long time.  Yes, I know all about your attempted indiscretions there as well.

And here’s the pattern – a couple of long distance (or even local) honeys on the side, until you find the next local one you want to be with, at which point you break the heart of the swooning distance gal, or whatever other one you’re with.  Even if there’s no intervening LDR, you certainly at least make sure you’ve got the new girl all lined up and primed before you leave the old one, telling yourself (and your existing partner and everyone else) all along that you’re not cheating because you haven’t yet actually stuck any of your parts in any of hers, despite massively overtly sexual and D/s-y interactions, come-ons, innuendos, etc.

I know the minimum length of time you did this to your wife with me and others, and suspect it was much longer.  I know how long it was with N/D before you dumped me when I pushed for knowing what was going on with her and wouldn’t let you blow me off about it despite your denials.  I know a lot about how you were behaving even during that, and you definitely appeared to still be actively trolling while she was delusionally dreaming of happily ever after.  How long did you do it to S/V with your newest conquest?  That poor girl even publicly mentioned having a breakdown this year, after her breakup with you.  What the hell did you do to *her*?

Some of these other relationships you labeled as “mentoring” arrangements, or “being a father figure” to some sweet, innocent young thangs who were new to wiitwd (even when you yourself were brand spanking new).  Yeah, your actual words to me, on more than one occasion.  Some fucking “mentor”.

Don’t bother threatening to sue me any more for defamation for speaking out, or accusing you of these lies or talking about anything else that happened in our relationship, including the injuries you inflicted on me nonconsensually, which continue to plague me to this day.  Screw you.

What’s written here, and anywhere else I write about it, is *fact*.  It’s all fully documented to a standard that would hold up in court, or it’s my beliefs and opinions, all based upon those facts, all of which I’m perfectly entitled to talk and write about.

And thank the good lord above, I finally don’t even miss loving you any more.  I don’t miss anything about you at all.  Mostly, now, I’m just sorry I ignored my own gut instincts to stay away when you begged me to get back together, and didn’t recognize the degree of significance of the flotilla of red flags for what they were.

When I saw this post addressed to the new girlfriend of Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde, including the remarks that follow the letter, I couldn’t help but think of this one that I myself wrote so long ago.  Among others.

Near the end, you once told me I would never find anyone else like you (apparently along the lines of a threat, I thought at the time), and that you were the best thing I’d ever had or ever would have.

High opinion of yourself much?  Hah!  I’d rather die than be with anyone even remotely like you ever again.  I would most assuredly rather be alone.

Yes, there were certainly good parts and some good times, and for that much at least, I do thank you.

But as mentioned above, they were so outweighed by the negatives that it’s often hard to remember them, and they certainly do not stand out as the primary features of the relationship.  I do still look at this post and other writings at times to remind myself that it wasn’t *all* bad, but it’s important that I not romanticize what it really was, for my own mental health.

Because you were never even *close* to being the best partner I ever had, R/C, and sure as hell not by the point you made that narcissistic, self-aggrandizing remark. You can continue to delude yourself if you really want to, but nothing could be further from the truth.  You were, in fact, ultimately the biggest nightmare, all things considered, so outstripping the last candidates for that role (who you yourself deeply deplored when I told you about him) that there is no comparison whatsoever.  The only thing you really ever were unquestionably the best at was sex – and even that became a burden eventually because of the rest of the price I had to pay for it.

I really am sorry about one thing, though, and that is that I didn’t leave myself long before, when I first really grasped how impossible things had become.  I am specifically sorry for the additional pain that ended up incurring for us both, that it contributed to the development of a situation where an ongoing friendship would be impossible, one where I finally came to understand from the inside on the other side of the bed why you yourself had long rejected any possibility of ongoing friendship with your wife despite my urging you to do so.

I didn’t have the strength to leave, for various reasons, including that I really did still believe in you and have hope until quite near the very end, clearly wrongly, but you did matter enough to me that I honestly thought I was doing the best thing in honoring my end of the mutual agreement we had made to not leave no matter what – the one that you yourself had requested demanded.  It wasn’t the right decision, I realized a lot later, but by then it couldn’t be undone.  Just know that despite any anger I may still feel, I do at least truly regret that much, and have for a long time.


4 thoughts on “I Miss… I Don’t Miss

  1. Wonderful post. Loved reading it, though the pain is tangible. It really struck a cord, with my past. Though the underlying dynamics were different The feelings in the end remained the same when it was lost.

    But having been trough that makes that I value what I have now even more. It is possible to fly again, to trust again. It was for me, I hope the same for you will become true in the near future

    • Thanks so much, Shadow Lady. I’m glad to know that you’ve been able to find trust again.

      I’m actually starting to see signs of life returning, but I’m not really ready yet. I know it will come in time, although likely not with D/s attached.

  2. Pingback: A Letter to The New Girlfriend of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde | kinkylittlegirl - On Abuse and BDSM

  3. Pingback: I Miss… I Don’t Miss | KinkyLittleGirl – On Abuse and BDSM

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