Things that I am supposed to do.
Things that I decided he didn't care about because it didn't seem to matter to him whether I did them or not.
Things that he reminded me last night under no uncertain circumstances
I am supposed to do.
Somewhere along the way, I decided that I didn't have to do them because it seemed like he didn't care if I did them.
Because it seemed like they didn't really please him. And if they didn't please him, why bother to do any of it?
I made the assumption that I could decide what pleased him based on his reactions or lack thereof. Instead of relying on doing what I had been told to do to be pleasing.
Suddenly he has this vested and serious interest in how I take care of myself. In a way, it's a bit irritating, because I'm not ten anymore.
In another way? It's actually extremely hot. Like whips and chains hot, only in a different way.
Don't ask me why because I couldn't say exactly. But somehow it's a huge turn-on.
And suddenly, all those things that slid by the way because I decided they didn't please him when they really actually did, are back on the table. They are every day expectations to live up to.
Because I don't get to choose what pleases him.