Good Bones
When our M/s or D/s relationship requires reevaluation or recalibration, sometimes we have to strip it down to the bones to rebuild.
Do I have time? A man of my caliber stood in the street Like a sleepwalking teenager I know And I dealt with this years ago I took a hammer to every memento But image on image like beads on a rosary Pulled through my head as the music takes hold And the sickener hits, I can work till I break But I love the bones of you that I will never escape - Elbow, “The Bones of You”
There are moments in authority-based relationships when that nagging feeling that something isn’t working just comes to a head. Maybe it’s mid-scene, when we realize that we’re just not getting the same satisfaction we used to, or that the ‘spark’ just isn’t there, or that there’s some kind of foreign feeling of unease or dissatisfaction. Or maybe it’s something external to the relationship that is affecting us on a deep enough level that we simply can no longer be present like we were. Perhaps something triggers us in ways that we can’t explain, and certainly can’t anticipate. These things happen in all kinds of relationships. But in authority-based relationships–where the level of intimacy that we share is often far deeper than in our vanilla counterparts–when something is off, we feel it deeply, systemically, and even existentially.
But when that feeling eventually does come to pass, and it begins to directly affect the intimacy of our authority exchange, it can be extremely disconcerting. What happens when, as a Master, Dominant, submissive, or slave, we feel something off at our core, and it bubbles up in our relationships? Our dynamics are often a steady rock of stability for us, and facing the fact that something isn’t working (something beyond a simple adjustment in a contract or daily protocols), can be complex, deep, and disorienting. Upon closer examination, we realize that the “little things” that aren’t working aren’t the problems themselves, but symptoms of something much bigger and systemic. Things grind to a halt and, if we have the fortitude to look honestly at the situation, we realize that this is going to require a much more extensive–and scarier–overhaul.
That’s when we hope that what we’ve built, the foundation upon which
we’ve erected our frames of protocols and expectations, the systems of our communication, and the deepest desires we’ve been acting from can support not just a deep examination, but an all-out tear-down and rebuild. These are the moments when we find out if the relationship we’re in has “good bones.”
Can we strip back what we’ve built to its core parts? What exactly are the bones upon which the flesh of who and what we are flexes and yields? What has been supporting the lives we have built together? Is there a Master’s or slave’s heart that beats behind our ribcages? Is it something else that we’re looking for? Can the bones of us sustain the strain and load of whatever our future selves require?
When I’ve discussed these moments with other kinksters, especially fellow Masters and Dominants, I’m always struck by the candor with which they admit to facing their own existential crises in their relationships:
“My slave didn’t wear her collar for a year as we figured out what we needed.”
“I didn’t call my Master ‘Ma’am’ for 9 months; I just didn’t have it in me.”
“We vanilla-dated for a few months before we were able to even come close to scening again.”
One early morning at the end of a leather conference, as I ate breakfast before I left for the airport, I ran into a friend and fellow educator who was herself a slave in an M/s relationship. We had known each other for a few years. In the few brief minutes we had, I shared some of the challenges my own slave and I were facing. She said, sleep-deprived, smoky-voiced, and matter-of-factly, “You’re recalibrating. It happens to all of us.” Strange how sometimes nonchalance can be one of the most reassuring things. But I learned that her nonchalance was not based solely on how common such moments were in M/s relationships, but also on the fact that she knew us, and had witnessed our relationship first-hand.
Her reassurances mirrored what so many of the people I know and so deeply respect in our own extended leather family and community had shown me. They believed in us, and recognized that the core–the bones–were good.
Deep work requires a strong stomach, especially in those very scary moments when we’re assessing whether or not the relationship can or should sustain the shifts that are necessary to keep it going. We have to let go of specific expectations and trust the process. That means getting more comfortable with the idea that the relationship may look very different when the work is done, but that its core values will remain intact.
But, with practice and some commitment, we can unclench and allow ourselves to actually be curious, open, and even welcoming toward the potential new structures we can build. The work will often be non-linear and even halting. We’re figuring things out as we go, looking at the possible variations that the underlying structure of the relationship and/or dynamic can take, and/or what can and can’t be moved, shifted, or set aside. We see possibility and potential, without becoming attached to one specific scenario or another.
It took a lot of practice and a lot of trust for me to engage in this kind of work and see its worth, but I also have experienced first-hand the long-term benefits of doing the hard things, and being honest with myself. That being said, I still have a ways to go in my own personal journey. But that’s the thing about journeys, isn’t it? They’re ongoing. As I uncover things that I need in my M/s, I realize that there are things in my vanilla life and polyamory that also need to shift. I need to reorient myself to accommodate the new truths I’m learning and living. Sometimes it’s hard. Sometimes it’s paradoxically uplifting and icky at the same time.
But I’ve found that if you can embrace the discomfort, knowing that your hands are going to get dirty, the worth of what you’re doing becomes apparent. I have found that if I can trust my partner, knowing that we’ll be in it together, and that we are both working toward the same goal, I can stomach much more of the nitty gritty than I thought I could. I have the patience and the resolve. And, if I can quiet my mind enough, and sit in the hard spaces long enough, I can see the potential of what our relationship and dynamic can look like; I can dream, plan, and share without hesitation or shame.
There will be pain. There will be scary moments. It will be messy and filled with delays, frustrations, starts and stops, and plain old confusion. The hardest part is knowing that what you’re going to end up with may look very different than what you started with. But if you have faith in knowing that the relationship has good bones, the end result can be so worth it: a relationship and dynamic with a reliable infrastructure, supported by clear communication and knowing that everyone involved had a hand in planning and rebuilding with care, love, and joy.
And the good bones of us can hold and support an even more beautiful future.
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