Tuesday, April 17, 2007
(10:20 AM) | Claire:
Tuesday Hatred: Master and ServantDuring the past couple months, I have distracted myself with photos of Gael Garcia Bernaland Joseph Gordon Levitt. Every time my mind drifts to my kinky-maned former flame, I quickly imagine hot elevator trysts with Gael or cute images of cuddly sea otters. This refocusing strategy was successful until I discovered strange search terms used to find my blog. Readers were Googling "Claire Wolfson broke up," sometimes two or three times a day. Shortly after, my resolve began to erode. Someone in the blogosphere was thinking about our relationship, perhaps hoping to find that it had not ended, after all. I knew that if Ben and I were to give it another shot, we would have to re-invent our roles and style of interaction. On a whim, I decided to instant message him an ultimatum. I told him that I would only consider a reconciliation if he met two expectations: first, he must begin to comment on my blog on a bi-weekly basis. Second, he must fly in to Chicago to attend the Life and Times of Big Calabaza International Conference. Here is the amazing chat that took place following the ultimatum:
me: Ben, thanks for the comment.
Ben: you're welcome, Claire.
Adam warned me that you could tear my dick off over IM. So I thought I should do what you wanted.
me: hmm. I wish Adam wouldn't spread rumors about me. I only do that in person.
Ben: I can't wait.
me: Well, this summer-- you're in for it! You will be attending the LATOBC conference.
Ben: is that a command or a question?
me: Take it as a command.
me: wow, you know, maybe this can work. OK, Ben,I'll let you get back to "studying" or whatever you were doing before. I just wanted to make sure you knew what was expected of you.
me: thanks, *ma'am*.
Ben: thanks, ma'am!
me: alright. exit the chat.
Ben: I'll do better in the future, ma'am. exiting, ma'am
me: It's been a pleasure, Ben. Until next session.
This chat proved to to be one of the most rich and meaningful interactions Ben and I have ever had. Motivated by the extraordinary results of this chat/domination, I escalated my Wolfson behavior modification tactics.
I set up a little makeshift dungeon in my apartment and began inviting Ben over for play dates. One of my favorite games is to purposely make egregious grammatical errors and incite Ben to correct me. Once he begins his pedantry-fest, I promptly turn the tables, fit him with restraints and flog him until he rescinds each and every correction. Ben has gotten so skilled at polishing my boots and caring for my fetish gear that I am going to enter him in the Mr. Bootblack competition at International Mr. Leather this Spring.
I hate that I received a "courtesy email" telling me that I did not even meet the minimum qualifications for a job I applied for and that I would not be considered.
I hate that my supervisor looks as alcoholic and exhausted as Mr. Sprinkles.
I hate that I am scared of my co-worker who has his name tattooed on his neck.
I hate that I don't have the courage to ask him if he will tattoo my name on his neck.
I hate that I don't have a fire-breathing zippity zane to burn down my workplace for me.
Well, if you're feeling hopelessly optimistic, here's the Tuesday Love.