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As we broke the hug, I met her eyes—vulnerable, tear-filled, yet gleaming with a newfound hope. "Thank you," she murmured, gratitude resonating in her every syllable.
In that moment, I made a silent promise to myself. No matter what, I would be there for Lina, this resilient yet tender soul who was unknowingly breaking through my defenses. Little or not, it was the human being in her, the heart that bore the bruises of life and still beat with relentless hope, that called out to me.
The unanticipated thought dawned on me then. For the first time, I considered the possibility of being Lina's Daddy. But the ghosts of the past, the wounds that were yet to heal, held me back.
That evening after work, in the comfortable warmth of our favorite café, amidst the backdrop of a bustling evening, a surprisingly deep conversation began to unfold between Joe and me.
The day's work had been taxing, and the atmosphere of the café—the smell of brewing coffee and the quiet clinking of silverware—proved to be a much-needed balm for our worn-out spirits. Our table was laid out with our comfort food, the sight and smell of which was as familiar and welcoming as old memories.
As we settled into our usual corner, there was an ease that replaced our professional roles from earlier in the day.
"I'm scared, Joe," I began. My eyes held a level of vulnerability that I rarely let others see. "I'm terrified of stepping into another Daddy Little relationship."
Joe looked at me, his brow furrowed in concern, silently urging me to continue. He knew about Bianca, about the painful end to our relationship that still haunted my dreams. He knew, but he'd never pushed me to speak about it before.
I pushed a sigh past my lips. "With Bianca, it was... complicated. I was too strict, too hard on her. She felt controlled, trapped," I admitted, the bitterness of the past still sour on my tongue. "And the worst part? The thought that maybe she was right."
The realization that my actions might have seemed controlling had been a harsh blow. The 'Daddy' role was about providing, protecting, not exerting unnecessary control. The thought of repeating those mistakes—of becoming a figure of fear and domination instead of a source of comfort and security—chilled me to the bone.
"My instincts, my needs," I gestured vaguely. "They pull me back to being a Daddy. The fulfillment it gives me is indescribable. But I can't shake off the fear of repeating the past. And then, there is the alternative. A vanilla relationship. A path that offers none of the fulfilling dynamics I crave. But it also comes without the risk of making the same mistakes. No matter how hard I try I can't seem to kill the Daddy within me."
"Hank," he began, his tone steady and his eyes soft with understanding. "You're blaming yourself too much for what happened with Bianca. She was unique. She was more independent than most Littles. She craved autonomy, a space to breathe. While you revel in the role of a Daddy. There's a dominance, an urge to protect and guide. You two were mismatched right from the get go."
A mismatch. A clash of needs and desires that had been mistaken for fault and blame.
"But that's not all," he continued, his voice earnest. "Being a Daddy isn't something you can choose. Just like being a Little. It's who you are. It's in your nature, it's in your instincts. It's not something you can kill. It's something you should embrace. Imagine a scenario. What would you do if you came across a Little who wanted to kill their Little side?"
"I would tell them that being a Little is not a choice,” I said. “It's just who they are. It's a part of their identity."
The moment the words slipped from my lips, a sudden clarity washed over me. I was in the exact situation I had just spoken of. I was trying to deny a part of my identity, to suppress a part of who I was.
A faint smile played at the corners of his lips as he began recounting an experience he had with Mike.
"You see, Hank," Joe began, his voice steady and reflective, "last week, Mike and I attended this charity event. He was all decked out, dressed to the nines, looking every bit the charming Little that he is."
I could see a hint of admiration in Joe's eyes as he spoke of Mike. "Everyone was drawn to him, his infectious energy, his radiant smile. It was like watching a sunflower field in full bloom."
Joe chuckled lightly at his own metaphor. "But then, something happened. This guy, decked out in an expensive suit and a smug grin, started flirting with Mike, paying no mind to our dynamic."
His voice hardened slightly, a sharp contrast to his previous jovial tone. "As the night wore on," Joe continued, his gaze distant, "I watched as the guy tried to charm Mike. It was clear Mike wasn't comfortable, but the guy wouldn't back down."
He sighed, a hand running through his hair in frustration. "Being a Daddy, my protective instincts took over, and I saw the situation through the skewed lens of a threatened partner. I stepped in and perhaps overreacted, causing a scene and leading to an early and awkward exit from the event. Mike was so embarrassed. In hindsight, I could have handled it better. I let my emotions get the better of me and reacted without considering Mike's feelings. Instead of dealing with the situation calmly, I acted possessively, which only made Mike feel cornered."
I was taken aback. Joe, a seasoned Daddy, had misjudged a situation, proving that even the most experienced among us are susceptible to errors.
"Littles look up to their Daddies as if we are infallible, but it isn’t true. Just like everyone else, we make mistakes, we misjudge situations, and sometimes, we let our emotions control us," he said, his gaze meeting mine. "And that's okay. It doesn't make us any less of a Daddy. It makes us human."
I realized my perception of my past with Bianca was, indeed, skewed. I had clung to the hurtful words she had thrown at me, holding them as absolute truth, an indelible mark on my identity. "Controlling," she had called me, and I had allowed that label to shadow me ever since.
I now started to see that our relationship's demise was less about me being controlling and more about our inherent incompatibility.
"Take this as a chance to reflect," Joe said, his voice pulling me from my thoughts. "Don't just look at your past through Bianca's eyes. You need to see it from your perspective too."
With a small nod, I acknowledged his advice as the waiter approached us.
Suddenly, Joe's order of a double chocolate sundae caught my attention, the arch of my eyebrow barely concealed. It was an unspoken rule between us that the decadent dish was reserved for days when Joe was troubled. Years of friendship had taught me that much.
"Something on your mind?" I asked.
