A Malesub Looks at Thirty

I just checked and it’s been four years since I updated this blog. Jeez, there has been a lot in those four years. It’s taken me several years to feel like myself again, after the medication changes I wrote about in gone quiet. Then, I’ve spent a couple of years being completely overworked in a high-stress job, just trying to stay afloat in one of the most expensive cities to live in in America. But here I am, thirty years old and I feel more like I did when I started this blog than I have in a long, long time.

I turned thirty back in January, and I was Not Happy about it. Chaos was both supportive and yet  entirely unsympathetic (she’s three years older) and tried to make me feel better about it, but I really just felt like…like even though I have the sort of relationship that in my early twenties seemed like an impossible fantasy, somehow my kinky sexual life was coming to an end. 

In my head, when I fantasize, my ideal fantasy self has always been linked strongly to youth. I think perhaps because I grew up as a good, straight, “normal” Christian boy, and yet I had a very strong interest in sex and kink from a very young age. For so many years my only sexual outlet was in my own head, that I never really moved past that in my mind.  I’ve grown and changed, my fantasies have developed, I would now describe myself more accurately as:

 a 

good 

straight

normal

christian 

boy; 

a good boy (or at least I try to be one) and while I’m really only starting to get used to being thirty, I don’t feel so bad about it as I did when it was looming large on the horizon.

While being thirty is not as bad as I feared, I do feel like it impinges my sense of sexual self. Ageplay isn’t really a part of our sex life, but it sort of figures into my headspace. I’m not sure what sort of language to use to describe this internal self-image, I have a bit of cognitive dissonance when unironically thinking of myself as a “Man.” Not in terms of gender, or even maturity, but in the flavor of masculinity. 

Boy or Boi or something similar feels right to me. I think it’s related to both rejecting the man box as well as some remaining cultural baggage linking the idea of manhood and dominance. 

I want to feel small, I want to naturally cede control and authority to my partner in the way that one does before adulthood puts us all on a nominally level playing field. Being cognizant of the fact that I am a thirty year old man now feels tantamount to being reminded that power exchange is just a game that we play, that there is nothing tangible enforcing our ownership dynamic, just us.

I’ve also had a sort of gate closing panic. I cannot help but look back at my late teens and early twenties, when I had comparatively more time and boundless sexual energy, and wish I had somehow been the person I am now sooner. I’ve always been kinky, I’ve never been all that straight, I’ve done such exhausting mental gymnastics to hold onto a Christian identity that wasn’t helping me be my actualized self… And now that I finally have a sense of identity that I really like, and I worry that I am already too old to enjoy it properly. 

Which is bogus, really. I feel like the reason I haven’t blogged in the past four years (besides being horrendously busy) is that I am satisfied now in a way that I never was before. I have found joy and contentment in my D/s relationship with Chaos, and haven’t had a burning need to express that part of me in writing because it was satiated at home. 

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That is the good part about being thirty, I’ve gotten myself figured out and have some stability and a wonderful dominant partner who completes me. And even though I am getting older, I’ll always be her boytoy.