My fawn (aka My cub)

Tiny bit of Back Story

When Zack and I parted in December 2014, as I drove out of the driveway in San Diego, heading for Orlando, I emotionally sealed up my heart. Surrounded it with a cement wall. I vowed to never, never fall in love again. Ever. And I was quite vocal about it, especially when people would encourage me to “find someone.” Made me a crazy woman whenever that happened.

So, thinking the wall was impenetrable, I wasn’t really paying attention when I became friends with this guy… kid, really. But we spent inordinate amounts of time together and, as we know, since this is a love story, he chiseled the holy fuck out of that cement wall, making sand of it.

My fawn

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I’ve referred to “my fawn” in a couple of other posts, so thought I should introduce him.

My fawn is an amazing man. Younger than my youngest child (who is 30). Muslim. Smarter in many areas of knowledge than I could ever hope to be. He is also my submissive.

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And he lives behind the glass of my computer. For a long list of reasons (a couple given above), we will never have a real life meeting. And there are melancholy moments about that, but for the most part, it is something we accept graciously.

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If you’ve never had a cyber-love relationship, what we are experiencing can be a challenge to understand. You might also think we are delusional that this is even a real connection, not real love, but you would be wrong and millions of others can vouch for the truth of our reality.

When we first met at the cusp of 2015 and 2016, my new friend shared some of his foibles that are common young-people experiences (some call them “mistakes”) and I told him he was but a “fawn on wobbly legs,” to not take things too seriously.

The fawn name stuck.

Outlander

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In our early moments of talking (almost the entire relationship is in text), he told me about his love of Outlander, the Diana Gabaldon books and the show (on Starz). I squealed with delight as I am a rabid Obsessenach, loving both as well. The word for “outlander” (a foreigner, someone on the outside) in Gaelic is Sassenach (technically, what a Gaelic Scot calls an English person). I’m not quite sure when it happened, but my fawn started calling me his Sassenach instead of Mistress. I fell in love with the Honorific immediately.

sassenach

Islam

As he is a practicing Muslim… and I am an atheist… the word Sassenach takes on its own meaning of outsider in our relationship. He lives in an enclave of his Middle Eastern people as a first-generation American (born in the US from parents who immigrated).

Islam in the US

As I said, my fawn is fucking brilliant. He finds world history fascinating, knowing facts about wars, politics and even the people in so many countries. I, being a typical myopic American, am pretty clueless about what’s going on beyond a headline here or there. My fawn has incredible patience when I ask him to explain to me (“Talk to me like I am a 2nd grader, please.”) what is going on in the Middle East (which now takes on new meaning because of my love’s heritage), with observations about past Presidents or even our own political climate going on right now.

But he exhibited the most patient kindness after the Pulse Massacre on June 12, 2016, when I found myself, not particularly xenophobic, really (irrationally) angry with Muslims and needed his help to clear the painful confusion. For several days in a row, he listened to me cry, express my anger and frustration with Islam and the crazy people who embraced that religion as they demolished lives around the world. I am sure I wasn’t very respectful of his beliefs, but he never left me alone while I processed. As young as he is, he really exhibited the most tender kindness when I was in so much pain.

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I still struggle with Islamophobia (am working on a piece about it right now) and he is always patient with me, answering questions, guiding me to resources, but mostly just listening to the immense confusion I feel, as an atheist, to how someone so brilliant can believe in God, especially one who seems so fucking harsh. Exploration is ongoing.

Reciprocity

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While he is well-versed in history, my specialty, of course, is birth. This poor boy is being dragged into learning about pregnancy, childbirth and breastfeeding… from the politics of midwifery to learning about Postpartum Hemorrhage and how to save a mom’s and baby’s life. He’s seen pics of women nursing babies for the first time. He’s perused my Navelgazing Midwife blog, seeing women in labor and babies being born. Nothing in his life has prepared him for the adventure I am taking him on. I’ve taught him lots that will bode him well when, InshAllah (God-willing), he has his own wife and family.

A normal off-shoot of the birth talks is the sexuality of women. He’s going to be able to satisfy women in a way he never expected to learn outside of marriage (and porn). I’ve told him trade secrets (lesbian) and things that should bloody well be common knowledge with men and women alike. I tease him that he’s going to be making love to his wife and send up a prayer of thanks to me when she orgasms for the third time that session. I love teaching such a willing student.

Our Dominant/submissive Dynamic

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My sweet fawn is a natural submissive… found comfort and acknowledgement for those intense desires he’s had his whole life when he climbed onto the Internet several years ago. When we met, all he knew of me was as a FemDom (some write Femdom), learning later about my submissive history. It was delicious Domming him; so hungry to please.

As we evolved over the months, we have explored my submissive side (which I also adamantly swore I would never ever ever ever do again), finding great joy in giving my subbie self to him, even as he was quite green in Domming. We dabbled for a few weeks, but decided no more Switching, settling into our comfortable D/s roles.

My Skittish Yearling

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When my fawn met me, he did not know me as Barb, but as a different name (I am a Sex Worker… he is NOT a client.). The need to disclose myself became overwhelming and several weeks ago, finally “came out” to him. An entire side of me appeared as if from nowhere, learning I was the Navelgazing Midwife and now, the Navelgazing Writer. While he knew I had kids, it wasn’t until I came out that he learned how old they were, their names and about my grandbabies. I was sure showing him my whole Self would send him springing back into the woods, but he stood firm, loving me even more.

Clearly, I expose intimate details of my life for public consumption in several blogs and articles. In my life with Zack and the kids, we all had the agreement that I could write about anything, at any time, without their censoring a word.

With my fawn, however, he did not enter the relationship knowing this expository part of me and is extremely private, so many details about him are purposefully left out… or even shifted… to protect his identity. He did not have full consent about falling in love with a blogger, so I would not dream of asking him to adhere to my no censorship requirement for most of my friends and family.

Even still, I could not not talk about this man I love so very much.

And now you know him, too!

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