By the time you read this letter I will probably have already broken up with my girlfriend, but still wanted your advice on what happened to us. Also, this letter is superlong. I apologize for that.
I'm a guy in his late 40s, into bondage. So much so that I started hiring models and shooting clips and pictures. I'm not bad at it. I use Fetlife as a way to connect with fans and models, and every once in a while meet actual people. I met my girlfriend on Fetlife. She is a bondage enthusiast too. More or less my same age. We became friends, then fell for each other. We shared poems, mixtapes, thoughts about fetishism. She's a talented photographer; her beautiful bondage selfies on Fetlife were why we started talking. The connection is wonderful. She's creative, poetic, sensitive; a soothing soul. She is into the D/s dynamic and strongly identifies as slave; without me even asking she positioned herself as my slave in the relationship. (I consider myself more a top than a dominant, since I struggle with the concept of being a master, that conflicts with my left-kinda anarchist politics).
I don't know if it was the internet and how it intensifies or deforms people's perceptions of our feelings in these days of cyber-dating, but we really fell for each other. The communication was great. We started thinking about the future. I was looking forward to help her raise her child, maybe arrange to do my job here only one half of the year and move to freaking Europe for the rest. And I'd never felt that kind of connection before in my life. And all the kink. She lives in a Scandinavian country. I'm in LA. As we got carried away by the romance, we decided to visit each other's country. She bought a ticket to LA, so we would finally meet in person soon. As we continued to get even more carried away, I asked her to marry me before I'd even seen her face to face.
Yeah, not cool, I know.
The rest of this epic letter—and my less-than-epic response—after the jump...