In the morning you catch attitude from the barista handing you your soy vanilla late. At work, there’s that colleague who looks at you like you stole her cat. You wonder if it’s just you she daydreams about murdering or is it everyone in the office. You have that boss who thinks you should be wearing heels instead of flats. He calls you “shorty” because apparently, it’s hilarious that your feet aren’t propped up on tiny little sticks. And there is that guy at the mechanic’s who gives you grief for getting your oil changed after 3500 miles instead of 3000. It’s almost enough to make you rip your fucking hair out because you’ve waited to 4000 miles before and nothing happened. And fuck that girl at Starbucks. And you are really more of a dog person. And your boss can eat a dick.
You tell yourself that this is just life. It isn’t harder for you than anyone else, but that doesn’t make it any easier. You fight. I watch you claw and scratch. I see you pulling yourself forward one inch at a time. Sometimes it’s a millimeter. Sometimes it feels like you’re standing still. I don’t have the answers but I do something that makes it a little better.
Come closer, little girl. Take those heels off. Let Daddy make you a drink. I’ll rub your sore feet and I know eventually your head is going to end up in my lap. I’m going to pet your hair and ask, “Do you know how lucky I feel? I love being your Daddy. I love comforting you after you’ve had a rough day.”
All you need to hear is, “You’re still my good girl. You’ll always be my good girl.” It seems so small. It seems so easy, but there’s so much behind that phrase. It’s the expression of a Daddy’s love filtered down into two simple words. “Good girl.” I whisper it to you over and over. Your eyes close but you don’t fall asleep. You nestle into my leg and it’s my hope every time I say it the drudgery seems further away. “Good girl,” Your hair between my fingers and gentle pressure on your scalp. “Good girl,” like a blanket wrapped tightly around you on a freezing night.
Your breathing becomes slow and easy. The tension in your body leaves. I feel it in the air around us. The fire emanating from you dies and you’re this glowing glistening blue. “Good girl.” Nothing can hurt you. Here, is the region outside of time we hide in. It’s the last stop before the end of the universe. No one will ever find us. “Good girl.” It’s here where my love for you is its strongest. Here, is where your need for my love is its most profound. “Good girl” Your guard drops so low you wonder if you ever had one. I don’t need to demand that you give me more. I already have everything. You gave it freely because your desire to submit to me surpasses all other desires. You belong to me like all other objects in my life but you’re the only object I love. “Good girl.” I possess you. I cherish you. I protect you. I need you. You’re as much a part of me as the hand I’m using to pet you to sleep.
Everything that’s good in this world I see in you. It’s why I say it so often. Do you get that? Do you understand it isn’t part of an ongoing role play? When I say these words it’s because at that moment you’ve blinded me to the bad and all I see is the good. It shines out of you like a second sun in my lap. It’s a sun I can stare into for the rest of my life and never go blind. When I tell you that you’re my “Good girl” now you understand the intensity behind it. Allow it to soothe you. Allow it to rid you of your frustrations and stress and be at peace.
The Cerebral Sir 