He takes my hand, and I smile. It’s the small things in life that let him know I love him, and vice versa. In this moment, on this couch, with that movie playing in the background, and we’re holding hands. He’s my man, but he doesn’t know it because in his mind I am his woman. In his mind, he is a man, but what he doesn’t know is that he belongs to me. He is mine, and I control him.
Which isn’t an easy task, and it’s not something that I would want from just any man in this world. But I want it from him, and he is mine because I love him. I control him because I love him, and we are sitting on this couch with his arm around me, holding me like he owns me. But that is not the case. But he does not know this. There are things about the world, and there are things about this relationship, and there are things about me that he does not know. That he cannot know, because I have to protect him from these things. I have to protect him from the world around him, and I do that by giving him the illusion of the upper hand in this relationship. I protect him by loving him, and after he falls asleep at night, I lay awake in bed, counting the ways that I control my dominion.
The world has told him that people like me are weak. That I am fragile and that I lack physical strength, and that’s okay. Because it is with this delusion that he feels the need to be strong for both of us. That he needs to protect both of us. That he needs to work so that both of us can eat. And that is the way that I like it, because that is the way that I control my man. Because he will do whatever I want him to do – not because I tell him to do it, but because I am a master of my craft, and my craft is concocting thoughts for him to think. He does not know that I do this, as I sit here on this couch, laughing at the funny jokes at the appropriate moments. In fact, he thinks that he controls me. He thinks that the things I do – he thinks that I do them because he tells me to do them. What he does not know is that I am eager to make certain concessions if only to appease and to sustain my position of control in this relationship. What can I say – I’m a benevolent ruler.
I fuck him because I enjoy fucking him – not because he enjoys it. I cook because I enjoy eating good food – not for his sake. I look the way I look because I have confidence and pride in my appearance – not because he has told me how I can dress or present myself. I say the things I say because I am intelligent and independent – he has no sway over the thoughts in my head. But I love him, so I do not let him know these things. I protect him. Because we are united, and we are in this together.
This is the apex of my feminine wile. Men have tried to tell me that I am evil because I have mastered my craft. Women have tried to tell me that I am weak because my kingdom is small. But what none of them seem to understand is that we are happy. My man? He loves me, and he is happy to love me and to serve me. Me? I aspire to nothing more than maintaining the love that I have cultivated over the years. This is a noble pursuit, and he will never hit me. Although, if he did, there would be certain, swift payback. He will never tell me that I’m stupid or that I can’t do something. But, if he did, I would be smarter and I would do whatever I want. He will never leave me for someone younger and prettier. On the off chance he did, he would be miserable because I am the one who controls him, and she would fail at making him happy in the way that I am make him happy.
He is my man, and I control him. Not the other way around. And when I am bored with him, I will discard him and I will find another one to replace him.