Kink in exile

Notes from a kinky nomad

Care & Feeding Marbles…and a little history

100 marbles…

I was having this conversation with a friend on Friday, let’s say I have 100 marbles, or maybe jelly beans, doesn’t matter.  On any given day it takes about 70 of these marble jelly beans to take care of myself. Some days are really easy, it might only take 50 jelly beans. Other days, or times in my life it takes much more…when I was depressed it took maybe 160 jelly beans to get through a day, but I still only had 100. Obviously, I made it through depression (I’m actually incredibly grateful for that.) I made it through because other people, people who loved me or people who cared about building community, gave me some of theirs so I’d have the 160 I needed. And that’s what happens with my spare jelly beans too – they go to people who need them for whatever reason.  Sometimes these people need extra jelly beans because they are depressed, but sometimes we just all put some jelly beans in a common pot cause community happens like that.

Jelly beans have a transitive property, and sometimes trading jelly beans is intimacy building in and of itself.  For example, I need 70 jelly beans to have a good day, but if I spend some of my jelly beans to take care of you and you in turn spend some of your jelly beans to take care of me, it balances. If I spend more jelly beans on taking care of you than I get replenished from interacting with you, I’ll eventually burn out. If you give me more jelly beans than you get from me, you might burn out.  And there’s a sorta tricky piece where sometimes if you give me more jelly beans than I want it actually costs me jelly beans to handle and store your surplus gift.

Can trading jelly beans produce more jelly beans in that process?  I think so.

But there is a concept sometimes summed up as Ani l’dodi v dodi li – I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine. For me, there is something incredibly intimate about the agreement to take care of each other, I feel supported enough to be safe dipping into my jelly beans. It’s pretty cool.  So, when I say I don’t mind doing something because you do it for me, I’m not saying “let’s keep score,” I’m saying “I feel safe.”


And a little history…

2011 was a really terrible year.  A partner and I broke up around Christmas of 2010 and then spent 6 months trying to make it work before calling it off over the summer.  I was depressed, trying to finish my MA, just not doing well.  One evening, in 2011, I called my aunt’s house…more like aunt twice removed, but whatever.  She was out of town and her mother answered the phone.  Now, I’d met the mother once before when having missed a bus in Ashkelon I ended up in Beersheba for the night and need a place to stay.  I didn’t know her well and had never spoken to her really – well I try to say a polite thank-you-I’ll-call-back-later but she launches into her own story of how she had dated someone and the plans and the hopes she’d had with him, and then it ended, and she was devastated, but she met someone else and built things she hadn’t ever imagined.  And you know what, it made me feel better.  It was maybe the first time in 6 months of breakup that I thought beyond the things I was losing.  She died a few weeks later, and I never got to thank her for the perspective.

There have been so many times since when I’ve been startled by the realization that if the person I was dating and I hadn’t broken up, I would have never reconnected with that sorta shy but always busy kid I’d played with in 2008, would have never gotten back into blogging, wouldn’t have realized that the lack of visible submissive men isn’t a just me problem, or gotten loud about shit that’s fucked up in the BDSM scene.  Hell, I wouldn’t have worked half as hard to build my own tribe or felt like staying in California was a choice I had made for myself.  I would have been happy, the person I was with was a good person and I wish him only the absolute best, but I wouldn’t have been my authentic self.

Written by kinkinexile

April 7, 2013 at 9:19 pm

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