But I suppose that's what I really mean. I've thought about it a lot over this past week. More than a week in fact.
Somehow over the past couple of weeks our feet don't seem to have touched the ground. We have been racing around from one place to another, or had the house full of people.
It's been a couple of weeks when I began to think at one point that Dan was fed up with my company, because he was never around. Or didn't seem to be.
He is very involved with helping to organise a fund-raising cycle ride in June in aid of prostate cancer; plus his voluntary work visiting the homes of the elderly and vulnerable, fitting smoke alarms and carbon monoxide detectors; plus going to support our home team (football - that's soccer to some of you) who have had an unpredictable season; plus he's even been away working for one or two days which have necessitated overnight stays.
There has been no time to even think about spanking. It has just been too full on. A typical example of life getting in the way. Maybe some people can manage to squeeze it in here and there, but with Dan, it seems a major impossibility, and always ends up getting deferred indefinitely. It seems he has to be in the mood for it.
As I mentioned in a previous post, I no longer ask for spankings, nor do I purposely sulk and sigh and flounce about trying to provoke a fight. I just stay hopeful; and mostly that eventually seems to work.
But I have noticed Dan can be very cunning. His 'don't you dare do that'/'not another word'/'don't even think it' signals are getting more practised. In times of spanking scarcity, these signals are definitely more prolific.
The strange thing is that, on the whole, I seem to acknowledge them, and they do tend to halt me in my tracks.
So, is this submissive? Surely it's just common sense?
Now - I know that many of you own up to the fact that you didn't promise to "obey" when you got married. Why is this?
It's something I've thought about time and again over the years - nearly 38 now.
I didn't want to say those words. After all, the Princess Royal had just got married, and she didn't say them! So why should I?
Well, I promised to obey because our priest refused to marry us otherwise, and because Dan gave me a very black look, which said "Obey or else". I can remember it clear as day.
"Why should I?" I asked the both of them. (I was feeling very heated and press-ganged at the time.)
"Because," the priest explained, "he will literally give his life for you should it be necessary. He will be there by your side to protect you from anything and everything the world and the years to come, throw at you. He will love you and guide you and lead you, all the years of your lives."
I can remember Dan nodding in puzzled agreement, but thinking it strange that the priest should be putting him on a silver steed, fitting him with shining armour and handing him a lance. It made him feel like a dog with two tails because it appealed to his natural sense of maleness.
So I stood there in front of the congregation and spoke those words "I obey" in spite of not really thinking about what I had actually agreed to, and looking back, I find it quite amazing that such a feisty, argumentative little so and so such as me, would acquiesce in such a way. (I did throw the occasional saucepan at Dan's head those first few years, but that's another story!).
To start with we both worked full time, then when the children came along I continued to work part time. We always had our specific tasks in our household, that we kept to.
Dan sorted the finances, kept the septic tank from blocking up, mowed lawns and kept the outside in good order. He looked after the cars in all aspects from fuel to insurance. He was brilliant at paddock maintenance. (He still does all these things!)
I looked after the inside and all that entailed, from cooking and laundry to interior design, decorating and being a mother with all that entailed. (I still do all these things, but being a mother is somewhat different in this day and age, and I've added being a grandmother to the list long since.)
Dan would be away for long periods at a time, sometimes flying back from one destination to be gone to another within 24 hours. I had horses, dogs, cats, hens and boisterous children. And a part time teaching job. I was busy to the point of exhaustion. But somehow the years flew.
I got used to Dan drawing up a daily list of things for me to do. I got used to him asking or phoning me and ask me to do little extras such as banking or picking up his dry cleaning. I never questioned when he would invite business colleagues for dinner, or meetings in his office.
I just got on with it all.
Strangely, it wasn't until our children were in their late teens, and beginning to fly the nest, such as away at college, that things started to go a little awry for us.
I am a strong, independent woman. I believe in strong independent women. Our ancestors fought for it. They chained themselves to railings to achieve it, went on rallies and carried placards.
But somehow, along the way, something got lost.
In our fight for female suffrage, we forgot to lean on the ones we love the most. Instead of seeking their strength and assistance, we fought them, we derided them, we sneered at them. No door opening for us. No helping us on with our coats, or into our cars. If what we wanted was equality, then we could have it. But we couldn't have it both ways.
So now, when we lust after these strong-minded men ("a white knight on a fiery steed" - listen to the old record by Bonny Tyler!) they are in very short supply. We have driven them back into the woodwork. We have shoved them away and shouted that we can manage very well without them, thank you very much.
Perhaps we can.
But do we really want to?
Dan brought me coffee in bed on Saturday morning and we sat in peaceful contemplation of the sunshine through the windows.
"The first thing I am going to do this morning is to give you a good whacking" he informed me.
To anyone reading this and not understanding Dan, it must sound awful. I have to tell you that Dan is the very last person on this earth who would give me a good whacking. It is not in his nature. A good spanking yes, but not a good whacking. Even when I annoy him above all endurance, his spanking is very controlled - ouchy, but controlled.
Is this where I should be communicating to him? I thought to myself. Is this where I should be trying to explain that I have felt somewhat neglected this past couple of weeks? That I have felt he was too busy to be interested in me or what I was doing? That I had almost decided to keep a note of just how much he was out gallivanting around with all his 'stuff' while I was mostly at home 'alone'.
I decided not to say anything about it. Why try to provoke an argument? But it smarted. Almost as much as I knew my bottom was about to smart.
"Go get an implement".
How many times have you read that little command on this blog?
And when you are facing that drawer where they are kept, which implement do you choose? How do you make your decision?
Those of you whose husbands get the implement - how would you feel if you were sent to fetch it?
I can tell you that many thoughts go through my mind at such a time. I would often like to refuse. But this is what I signed up for, isn't it, in the first place? I agreed to obey? Surely that means obey most things? And if spanking is consensual, as it is in this household, surely there should be no argument over me being asked to go get an implement?
But it is very hard to choose which implement is to be used.
Especially as I rarely know what type of spanking it is going to be. I have known light hearted spankings turn into yelpy battles with Dan bringing me to tears. I have known spankings that start as the type you think are going to be unendurable, turn into the very best of sexy interludes.
As I may not ask what type of spanking Dan intends,(he tells me it is up to him!)it becomes very difficult to choose the right implement for the occasion. Therefore I usually chicken out and fetch the Rose paddle. At least it is leather and flexible. (Ha! Silly me! I live with permanent crescent shapes decorating my sit-upon.)
Sometimes I will feel able to pick another implement, when, for example, I know I have been snippy and full of attitude and have stirred up disharmony. On some occasions Dan will send me back for another implement so he can use more than one.
I don't always like it, but he says that the end always justifies the means. (A means to an end? Ha!)
So I was thoroughly spanked. And it did hurt. My distancing had been noticed. The paddle did the commenting.
As I lay over his knee I asked why it was always me who had to fetch the implement and was told he thought it was good for me in order to be reminded of my place in the hierarchy. (I have a tendency to forget, it seems.) I would dispute that when I look around at some of our vanilla friends.
Dan also likes to be sure that the implement is going to fit the crime.
He just loves using either of the nippers - big or small. That big one stays hidden well away. I would only ever bring it out if requested to do so. I even rub my bottom in anticipation before the little nipper is used. (How any of you can cope with cheeseboards or wooden paddles I have no idea.)
But back to the subject of being compliant.
Cards on table.
What do you do that you consider is compliance? And I don't mean taking your man a well-earned cup of tea, or massaging his back in the shower, or taking the rubbish bins out - I mean what do you do in order to obey?
How submissive are you?
Would you agree to "obey" if you went back in time and had to say your vows all over again?
Could you choose your own implement for each spanking, knowing that you might be asked to bring out a much worse one if you chose wrongly?
Finally, what do you consider the difference to be between being compliant, and having a man exert control over you that you found unacceptable?
Just for the record, I would definitely say "I obey" again if I had my time over. Whether I would have behaved any differently without it, I don't know. Whether I would behave any differently way back in time when it was acceptable to spank your wife, I don't know that either. But I really look forward to your opinions, if you have time to give them.
I will finish on a silly note. Dan and I often share the bathroom, although sadly our shower is rather too small for two people of our age and stiff joints. LOL!
As I bent down to dry my legs he stroked my bottom, consideringly. I thought he might be tempted with a few well placed spanks, but no.
"Your skin is so smooth these days." More stroking. "It is so silky. Do you rub moisturising cream on it?"
He was asking me this in all seriousness.