Controlling ourselves, or controlling others? in anticlimatic

Are control issues universal?

Do people feel compelled to control others, or if not, themselves?

I have as strong of a desire for self control as I do a loathing for the idea of being controlled by someone else. It seems uniquely acute in me, but I find it hard to believe that anyone wants to be controlled by others. Though it can be deceptive. Sugar coated. I think my Grandfather and Mother managed this trick- to channel their need for controlling others into a perpetual love bombing of sorts. I seldom questioned all the things they had me do, because a large portion of the time blindly trusting them lead to very positive outcomes, but looking back at all the things I did that I really really did not want to do just to avoid a look of shocked indignation at simply not wanting to do a specific thing has me bristling.

I don’t understand the compulsion to do that to people around you. Controlling people certainly dislike being controlled by others maybe even more than I do, so I don’t understand why they do it. Even if they only understand themselves, it should be obvious.

Because I don’t understand, my brain seeks out the God of the Gaps, and needing to control others just feels innately evil to me. And then I associate these people with innate evil, and that’s somewhat uncomfortable- especially when we are talking family and loved ones. But I don’t quite know how else to read it. I know it isn’t, but there is a part of me that reacts emotionally as though it were.

I can’t bring myself to control other people, but I obsess somewhat over controlling myself. Will power is almost a religion with me. I will set a goal and crawl across broken glass to see it done. I’ll ignore injury, weather, hunger, or any other personal ailment or preference that might be screaming at me to stop. I just don’t like being controlled! Even by the demands of my own body.

While this makes me sound somewhat uptight, understand that I relish the relinquishing of this control over myself more than anything. I simply feel compelled to avoid that, perhaps due to simple social conditioning. How this translates into my romantic life is somewhat interesting.

I used to think I rather enjoyed controlling others in romantic settings- a rare masculine treat, I thought- when the rest of my life was devoted to avoiding the control of others, but that wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t controlling my partners that I enjoyed. It was the prospect of relinquishing control of myself that drew me in. The idea that I could listen to the carnal demands of my body with someone who would allow such without judgement. The basis for something like that?

Trust. Intimacy. That is the good stuff. That’s what makes us hard, what makes us wet- whether we know it or not.

I had a partner long ago who would shred my back with her nails and bite my neck to bruising during climax, and although I am not at all a masochist the pain involved never really hurt me- never offended me, internally- because we had trust. It was an honor, for me, to endure what might otherwise have been abuse without it.

I remember another occasion that I went home with a woman after an evening of drinks, and attempted some romance. My body refused to cooperate, despite her efforts, despite my efforts, and eventually I suggested that it was fine- why don’t we just relax, and sleep- and she confided in me that her body wanted the same, but for some reason decided in her mind that she wanted more. Maybe because she thought I expected it? I’m not sure, but somehow my body knew that it was unwelcome, and wouldn’t let me take advantage of her- even though I had no idea that’s what I would have been doing.

Romantically I am high energy, robust and creative in my actions, and quite a lot to handle when I really let myself pursue satisfaction- which incidentally is never, these days- except alone with my thoughts. I can be quite straining on a partner, physically, if she can welcome it to a sufficient degree that I can feel the intimacy and openness enough to unfurl. Short of that, I have no interest.

I’ll stay celibate until it’s there.