On ego

Is it really such a bad thing?

I've always hated it when anyone asks for an ego boost. I am free with my praise and honest with a person's positive points. But when someone goes looking for it, I suddenly go quiet. I guess I wonder if it's really necessary. If that person is so uncomfortable with themselves that they have to have validation from someone else.

I'm not saying I never want to ask someone if I look good, or if I've done well. I am certainly always hoping for praise from my Dom. But I don't ask for it. I may come across as a strong person, but this isn't a strength thing. In fact, it's the opposite.

There is a part of me that my Master calls Ume. This is the part that tells me that no one could possibly love me, and even if they say they do, they're just lying. Or even if they really do love me, it won't last. He knows Ume well, and always knows when it's her words coming out of my lips. I can't imagine that it is easy, but he almost always deals with her very well.

Anyway, I got a little off track. hehe I used to have an issue with anything that inflated a man's ego. I know this is silly, but... Well, we're not always perfect. We learn and we grow as time goes on. I hate guns, I hate fast cars (unless I'm driving them!), I hate action movies, etc... This all started to change one day.

My husband (who was, at the time, only a close friend) introduced me to rugby. I was, at first, cynical. I love sports, don't get me wrong, but rugby was somehow different. His family is from New Zealand, so he introduced me to the All Blacks. And the haka. And Carlos Spencer.

I'm trembling as I write this, and I don't think it's just because my house is cold. The premise of the haka had been explained to me before I saw it, and of course I was even more cynical about that than about the game itself. But hey, it was part of a different culture, so I was happy to watch and learn.

And then I saw Mr. Spencer. In a big group of rugby players, this man was still the dominant man. And not just because he was leading the haka. I gasped as I watched him prowl through the pack, looking around slowly, surveying all that he controlled. I whimpered when his voice rang out clear and strong. I watched in awe as this man... this arrogant male... shattered my impressions on ego forever.

From then on, the All Blacks (and rugby in general) had a new avid supporter. I watched every game. I didn't care that Mr. Spencer was fairly attractive or that he had occasional moments of pure genius in the game. I cared most about those few moment before the game, when he would leave me breathless and trembling.

He now lives relatively close to where I live. Especially considdering he used to live in a different hemisphere. And on occasion I've fantasized about trying to meet him. But something tells me that if he affects me like that through a television screen, I would either end up sorely disappointed, or die from overstimulation.