Bow and Vow, Part 2

A fatally smitten suitor down on one knee, or two, before his beloved—it’s the ritual most associated with courtship.

Once married, however, even if a husband’s “heart fills with a newlywed's happiness, there is no accepted ritual that permits him to display the intensity of [his] feelings.” (I’m quoting my own book here, by the way.)

Which is why a growing number of us incorrigible romantics, of both genders, have been practicing and advocating “courtship marriages” under various names, any of which will do:

Wife-worship marriages
wife- or female-led marriages (or relationships)
“yes, dear” marriages
Venus-on-top marriages
“Around Her Finger” marriages
“She Makes The Rules” marriages
yes, even “femdom” marriages, for the more adventuresome couples among us.

And what could be more natural in a courtship marriage than hubby playing the part of perpetual suitor and kneeling to profess his devotion? And, yes, by “perpetual” I mean doing this every day.

Yes, there are other good reasons to bend the knee to one’s beloved. For a pedicure, or as part of a weekly evaluation session by the wife. Or as preliminary to receiving correction from the wife. (While some of these may appear offbeat, they are all, to my way of thinking, essentially romantic rituals, opportunities for renewed intimacy between wife and man.)

But more frequently than any of these, I think this ritual obeisance is part of what I like to call a husband’s daily devotions. It’s obviously a supplicant, prayerful posture, and prayers may indeed be spoken—to God, or the Goddess, or to a deity seen as incarnate in the beloved wife. Prayer and worship are inherent in a husband’s daily devotions to his wife, though not, I insist, in an idolatrous way, all appearances to the contrary.

But what I think those husbands are really doing down on their knees, more than either praying or worshipping (or toenail-lacquering) is simply…

Confessing.

The ritual of confession is practiced not only in confessional booths, but on psychiatrists’ couches, on bar stools (and, alas, under totalitarian regimes in interrogation rooms and re-education camps). But in female-led relationships, confession is best practiced on one’s knees.

I know this because I’ve done it as recently as this morning, and plan to do it again tomorrow (though sometimes just the act of kneeling before her constitutes my “confession”). A perfect example of this romantic confessional was offered by a cyber friend in the following FLR-type posting:

“When I catch myself doing [insert name of bad deed here], I will usually kneel before her, place my head in her lap and apologize for being such a ‘pathetic schmuck’ (her favorite term for me). That usually dispels some of the tension. I will usually also specifically apologize for whatever specifically I had done.”

Is a husband’s contrition, then, solely for the purpose of wifely absolution—or wifely punishment? I don’t think so. Usually, I think, it’s simpler than that. The husband confesses for the purposes of baring his soul before his beloved. He does (again to quote from Worshipping Your Wife) because he years to “Be Known by Her.”

The clearest statement of this yearning (and daring) that I’ve come across was by another e-migo of mine, also a frequent commenter here. I quoted it in the first part of the Bow & Vow post, but it’s so heartfelt and inspirational that I’m going to repeat a bit of what I wrote:

“Every day he gets down on his knees and affirms his adoration of his beloved. ‘I honestly don't remember the first time I knelt in front of her and just adored her,’ he writes. It just seemed natural. Down on his knees he repeats a series of daily vows that he wrote. ‘I say these to her every day, no exceptions.’”

At the heart of my friend’s morning devotions is a confession of his soul to his beloved, along with a special thank-you to her for permitting him to reveal himself:

"I very much want to serve and obey you.
I want to belong to you. I want to be your submissive husband.
This is who I am and I adore you for accepting me."

“This is who I am.” These five words are the key to my friend’s daily confessional. He wants his wife to know who he is, this guy looking up at her in utter puppydog, tail-wagging adoration. He wants to be “known by her” and, yes, to be accepted by her for who he is.

Now, I happen to know this is a very macho guy, assertive and successful in many arenas, including athletics, fitness training and retail sales. Obviously his beloved knows this side of him as well, and admires these sterling qualities. But it is psychic and physical nakedness he seeks before her on his knees, a psychic surrender that (as I can attest) often leads to a level of intimacy and ecstasy approaching religious rapture.

This is the altered state that Elise Sutton describes as the “submissive zone,” more commonly termed “subspace.”

“I felt totally naked, totally known (and owned), totally accepted by my wife,” one guy describes it.

Another puts it thus: “My sub space is experienced when I am able to humble myself before my Wife. I love kneeling before her and being at her beck and call.”

On the old Spousechat message board (excerpted in 10 parts on this site, the newlywed househusband “Mr. Lynda” speaks proudly of kneeling before his bride, Ms. Lynda, “every morning as I serve her coffee and breakfast. She is the willing partner eager to face the jungle of the workworld. Thank you Ms. Lynda. I acknowledge you as my Head and Boss. Long may you reign.”

Clearly, for these guys (and for me), kneeling and confessing, or “bowing and vowing,” is not some bizarre or edgy behavior, but a basic act of daily devotion, needful to the soul and essential to marital intimacy.

If “needful to the soul” sounds like exaggeration, let me assure you it’s actually understatement. You can get a better idea of the pent-up emotional intensity involved from this anecdote shared by Kathy in her popular “Femdom 101” blog. It occurred when she was “volunteering” at a local femdom “studio” in order to learn more about her husband’s submissive yearnings and was introduced to an older male customer:

“[He} just wanted to kneel at the feet of a woman. All of his life he had fantasied about kneeling naked at the feet of a lady, and being allowed to kiss her feet. Even more than that, he had a desire to tell someone of his need for submission. This was the deep, dark secret of his life. Even his wife of over forty-plus years had no idea of his submissive needs.
“We spent some time talking. I then let him take off my shoes one at a time. I then gave him permission to kiss each of my feet, and then let him suck on my toes. This older man actually broke down and cried. I wanted so much to cradle him in my arms. I wanted to kiss him on the cheek and tell him that [I] understood. Then it occurred to me that there are so many poor men like this sweet baby.”

Any wife who is initially put off by the sight of the man she married down on his knees again ought to reconsider , and realize that this posture is really a return to and continuation of passionate courtship. One wife who discovered this shared her feelgns on the Around Her Finger blogsite:

“He looked so incredibly loving kneeling at my feet. For the first time, I felt empowered. I can't really explain why, but it made me feel so very close to him.”

Kathy’s experience with the older gentleman who wept as he kissed her feet gave her a special insight into submissive men in general, and to her husband in particular. She shares it beautifully here, so perfectly that I think I’ll end the posting with it:

“One of the special moments in my life was the first time John knelt at my feet, and we talked as mistress and [husband]. In my view the first time a man has the courage to kneel at his wife's feet is a very special occasion. This special little physical act often helps a couple transcend many of the boundaries that have kept their marriage arrangement from moving forward.
“This may seem strange to many of you, but that moment John knelt to me for the first time, was as much of a romantic occasion as our first kiss. [Now, five years later,] there is never a day that John does not get down on his knees in front of me… This is the most intimate time of the day for us. It is when we communicate the best.”

Lighting Her Cigars, Addendum

This is really not a continuation of the previous discussion on submissiveness vs. obedience. I happen to enjoy Ms. Becky Sue’s definition,* though I can see how others might view it as a distinction without a difference, like “lawyer vs. attorney.” Obey or submit, does it really matter so long as the wife’s word is law and loving female authority reigns supreme?

(Of course it does matter in Ms. Beckie Sue’s household... and her husband knows to obey, not simply submit.)

But I just used this title because I came upon the top photo of Monica Bellucci surrounded by adoring sycophants--Che bella ragazza! And thought I better at least post something, along with an apology for being so scarce around here of late. I am involved in finishing a fairly fat novel (I hope), and subjected to more than the usual daily distractions. But I miss the community here. The solution may be to post a lot more frequently, but less verbosely. Briefs rather long-winded screeds. That’s my current resolve anyway.

PS: Another Italian beauty… (I know, she's English, but her name is Italian.)

* “A submissive male is one who seeks to serve a wife for his own satisfaction and pleasure. An obedient husband is one who understands female superiority and the need to always focus, support and serve that superiority.”--Beckie Sue

Lighting Her Cigars, Part 2

Part 1 on this topic posed a couple of questions dealing with female led relationships. I’ll start with the first one: Is servility to a woman incompatible with manliness?

Before I ever got around to writing this follow-up post, Lady Grey answered my questions as follows:

“What Dom wants a wuss at her disposal? Controlling an ‘A’ personality type man, bringing him happily to his knees before you, to be served not in a servile manner, but in a deeply grateful manner...well, I'll opt for that every time. Having an intelligent man who is perfectly comfortable in his manhood and who responds to your unspoken commands, to your gestures, your shrugs, your raised eyebrows, your tapping feet, and who can anticipate your needs and knows what to do to satisfy them...well, to me that's a real man. A man worthy of control, of rewards, and even punishment if need be.”

I think she’s saying it depends. One guy could respond to “your shrugs, your raised eyebrows, your tapping feet” in a Type A, manly manner; while another guy could do the same thing wussily, as it were.

Manly or even macho servitude to a woman is inherent in the Knight-Queen model of wife worship. The knight is servile to his lady or queen, obedient to her every whim, yet intrepid and brave in carrying out her commands and commissions in the world.

Can we apply those courtly standards to household chores, like polishing her pumps and hand-washing her lingerie? That’s the case I’ve been trying to make in my book and blog posts, under the general heading of Domestic Dragon-Slaying. I admit it’s kind of a stretch, but it is doable, and Lady Grey apparently agrees.

You’ll find unquestionably macho types--black belts, ex-linebackers, cops, weight-lifters--who relish being ordered about by a diminutive pistol of a wife or girlfriend. I could cite dozens of such testimonials, but I'll spare you this time. Take my word for it.

When my wife objected to my early signs of seeming servility (“Don’t be a sycophant!”), it stung. She was right, of course (when is she not?). I was overreacting to her musings and suggestions, flying off the handle to do stuff she hadn’t asked for. I had to dial back my fawning impulses drastically.

My solution was to be responsive, even anticipatory to her needs, but in a more laid-back way. I took as my model Rhett Butler catering to Scarlett with his lazy, tomcat smile, but catering all the same. Or maybe a guy from a moving van asking the lady of the house, “Where do you want I should put down this piano, lady?” Ready to serve, no big fuss about it.

But male servility and male submissiveness remain loaded terms as far as mainstreaming FLRs, and oxymoronic terms for some.

Even Beckie Sue, who contributed two stirring guests posts on female superiority (here and here, draws a sharp distinction between submission and obedience:

“I never liked the idea that some men are submissive. Men are by nature obedient. Through school (in the past), sports, military, and jobs they are required to be obedient; much more so than women. It is their nature to be obedient and to work. It is the nature of the female to be sexual/sensual and to direct the men in their lives.”

Beckie Sue describes her gradual journey from an egalitarian to a matriarchal marriage as a natural evolution, in which both she and her husband feel comfortable and fulfilled in their basic natures. So her guy is not submissive, she insists, although he is completely (and willingly) ruled by Beckie Sue in almost every aspect of his life, and has certainly surrendered almost all authority in the relationship to her.

At one point, as an example, she informed him that his paycheck would henceforth be direct-deposited into her private checking account, and that he would surrender his debit card and be allowed only $10 spending money, which she would replenish as needed. When he raised initial objections, her answer was that her decision was final and permanent.

“Of course he wasn't happy when I told him of this. But afterward he said his happiness isn't important, his only happiness is to see me happy. Which I am.”

This power imbalance is standard policy in many wife-led marriages and female-led relationships. A woman calling herself “Melissa” explained in a letter to Elise Sutton how all issues were amicably settled between herself and her husband Patrick:

“The First Rule of Our Relationship: We discuss; I decide; he obeys. In cases where my mind is already made up, or I feel strongly about a particular issue, the need for discussion is obviated and Patrick is simply informed. This eliminates the need for discussion in about seventy percent of all cases, allows Patrick to concentrate on his engineering career and leaves other issues in my far more capable hands.

“The Second Rule of Our Relationship: We have Absolutes; I have absolute freedom; he accepts and lives under my absolute control; this applies to all aspects; there are no exceptions.”

Which brings me to the second question raised in Part 1 of this post: “What is the proper role of power in an FLR/perpetual courtship marriage?”

This, too, elicited a quick and authoritative response from Lady Grey: “You ask ‘what is the role of the unequal balance of power in a FLR?’ I'd answer that the inevitable imbalance of power in such a relationship is the very ESSENCE of the relationship. A balance of power would make a FLR unworkable.“

But Beckie Sue’s ascension to the seat of power in her marriage was based on her gradual realization and acceptance of the “fact of female superiority”, which, she says, “is only natural.” So natural that her teen-aged daughters have found themselves elevated by degrees to a level just beneath their mother’s. Husband and son, meanwhile, have also come to accept the naturalness of this female-ascendant state of affairs, from which has flowed a willing, even enthusiastic deference on their part to female rule of the household.

It may, in fact, have been the avowed interest of Beckie Sue’s husband in wife worship that launched all these role reversals in their marriage. In this sense, she is only fulfilling his exalted vision of her.

There are obvious power perks for the wife who asserts and exercises primacy over her husband. As Beckie noted, “What woman wouldn’t want to have a marriage where what she said was final, where her husband would obey her and desire her? What wife wouldn’t want a home where the housework, cleaning, laundry, washing dishes, scrubbing the bathroom, was her husband’s job; she would be free to pursue more fulfilling interests? How many would enjoy those more fulfilling pursuits during the day while he is at work earning money for her to enjoy? What wife wouldn’t love to have control of his paycheck and manage all the finances? What female wouldn’t love to be worshiped as a goddess?”

(I found an interesting echo of Beckie Sue’s above quote in an old Spousechat posting from “Charles,” aka “Mr. Lisa”: “Lisa is the envy of all of her female friends, business associates, and female neighbors. What woman would not want a live-in housekeeper, cook, handyman, chauffer, butler, manicurist/ pedicurist/ masseur, personal assistant, laundry person, errand boy, and bedroom partner?”)

But there may be even more fundamental reasons for a wife to tilt the balance of marital power decidedly in her favor. A persuasive exposition of this can be found in “Vivian’s Domain,” re “Power and Beauty”(excerpted on my blog):

“…for most women, even attractive ones, it is not possible after years of cohabitation and child bearing to become beautiful enough to inspire the kind of awe that will motivate her husband. So, what can a woman do? She can understand this: Not only is there power in beauty, there is beauty in power! The ‘take my breath away’ kind of awe that a man feels when he sees a stunningly beautiful woman is similar to the feelings he had as a young adolescent toward women of power in his life—teachers, neighborhood moms, and strict women in general. In order to make your husband a better man and a better spouse, you need to make him eager to win your approval and fearful of earning your disapproval. You must exert the kind of power that grabs his attention, makes you beautiful to him and takes his breath away. You must make him adore you again!”

Power vs Superiority

For the FLR blogger I’M HERS, female-led relationships are all about power, not about female superiority. As he explained it in a May 6, 2011 posting: “The question I keep asking myself is this: Is [my wife] Katie my superior? When I bring the topic back to Katie and me, there is but one variable: power, and Katie has it all. I gave it to her. She’s the ‘professor’. She judges me; assesses me; makes the rules; gives me the syllabus with all the requirements needed to ‘pass her course’. She is the final judge. Does that make her superior? I don’t know and it really doesn’t matter. I am not in love with Katie because she is superior and I am inferior to her in every way. If that were true, why would she ever be attracted to me?... it’s not about what Beckie says [i.e., female superiority], it’s about a power exchange… Dominance and submission have all to do with power and nothing to do with a comparison of talents, intelligence and other such qualities.”

Obviously I agree with both I’M HERS and Vivian that a fully empowered wife is sexy. But, in my case, that’s putting the cart before the horse. Yes, my wife possesses and exercises the power in our marriage and family, to an extent that any monarch might envy. But I didn’t cede that power to her, nor did she appropriate it.
What happened is, as far as I can tell, my wife’s accretion of power occurred over many years, incrementally, even insidiously, as a natural by-product of her superior judgment, follow-through, practicality, memory, social savvy, strength of will, completeness of psyche, emotional range and maturity—yatta ta yattata.

I’m thinking that it was very like the tidal upward mobility of women in the workforce, especially in the professions. Yes, they now wield more and more power, and it is increasing dramatically year by year; but that power did not come their way via an abdication by males, or a storming of the citadel by women (though I do not deny the effect of advocacy, in opening up previous all-male citadels). Mainly it seems to have come about because, once in the door, a preponderance of women quietly and unarguably demonstrated not only equality with men, but a surprising superiority.

Thus it has been with my wife and me. Things go better when she is in charge, when I seek and follow her advice. Whenever I got angry with her (as I used to do), I would eventually realize that I was being childish, petulant and invariably wrong. When she became angry with me (which still happens from time to time), I would eventually see the error of my ways, realize that she was right (again!) and was owed an apology.

So, yes, in our house she is enthroned and empedestaled, worshipped and obeyed. I found my level and she found hers, simple as that. So, yes, power is sexy, but it flows, at least chez moi, from my wife’s superiority, at least some of it attributable to her gender.

And I consider myself a smart guy, by the way, but part of my smarts is recognizing that she truly is my better half.

*

Lighting Her Cigars, Part 1

Of course, she doesn’t smoke cigars, but if she did, we’d light them for her, wouldn’t we, mates? Because that’s who we are.

“You see many such couples… the man [is] completely trained and conditioned, he is ever alert for his cues. If his lady unsnaps her purse and frowns down into it, he at once presents his cigarettes, and they are always her brand. If she has her own cigarettes, he can cross twenty feet in a twelfth of a second to snap the unwavering flame to life, properly and conveniently positioned for her. It takes but the smallest sidelong look of query to send him in search of an ashtray to place close to her elbow. If at sundown she raises her elegant shoulders a half-inch, he trots into the house or onto the boat or up to the suite to bring back her wrap. He knows just how to apply her suntan oil, knows which of her dresses have to be zipped up and snapped for her. He can draw her bath to the precise depth and temperature which please her. He can give her an acceptable massage, brew a decent pot of coffee, take her phone messages accurately, keep her personal checkbook in balance, and remind her when to take her medications. Her litany is, ‘Thank you, dearest,’ ‘How nice, darling,’ ‘You are so thoughtful, sweetheart.’ It does not happen quickly, of course. It is an easy life. Other choices, once so numerous, disappear… And finally, of course, it comes down to a simple equation. Life is endurable when she is contented, and difficult when she is displeased. It is a training process, conditioned response."
—John D. MacDonald, A Tan and Sandy Silence

Clearly, John D. MacDonald--writing under fictional cover of his famous alter ego, Travis McGee--is deeply contemptuous of these men, who behave more like a courtier than a queen’s consort, devoting themselves utterly to her service, alert to, even anticipating her every whim.

But for many men like me—and it’s an increasing cohort of modern males, I am convinced---serving our significant female others as exalted queen or goddess is not seen as degrading, but as uplifting and deeply endlessly satisfying. Many submissively oriented guys can envision no more glorious fate, no greater manly endeavor.

For the first of many examples, here is an excerpt from a confessional letter to Elise Sutton, in which the writer revels in his fawning subservience to a beautiful, willful woman. And, among his many personal services, apparently, are lighting her cigarillos:

“She relaxed on her favorite white leather sofa with a bunch of new magazines I'd bought for her. I poured her a brandy and lit her Nat Sherman Black & Gold cigarette. She doesn't often smoke, but she and I agree that no pleasure should ever be denied her so this is a nice extravagance. I knelt by her feet, took off her shoes and began massaging her feet.”

It’s a common confession of wife- and girlfriend-worshippers, being exalted by obeisance to the adored one, leading a life in a devoted, female-centric orbit:

“I am most comfortable when my fiancee chooses to relax. In our relationship, I am doing the man's work. She is not expected to lift a finger. I bring in a plate of cookies, some coffee, tea, or Perrier and we spend some time in conversation. Sometimes she is busy and I find something else to do. However, I am always on call… She goes to bed first, and I straighten up the living area. I go up to the bedroom… While the house is always neat, I only take one or two days a week to do a complete cleaning.”

For many such husbands, their service to their wives extends to every room in the house, especially including bath and boudoir:

“I love to wash my wife's hair and scrub her in the shower, then dry her. Mostly because she loves it. If someone says it isn't important, I do not care. I know giving and loving are important to me.”

As I wrote in Chapter 5 (“Pampering and Pitching In”) of the original Worshipping Your Wife book, “There are manly guys who draw their wife’s bath. Who shampoo her hair. Who loofah her skin and even shave her legs. Who give facials while she luxuriates in the suds. And who are ready with a warmed, fluffed towel to enfold her as she emerges, a dripping Venus, from the bath. Who are rewarded with the further privilege of drying and powder-puffing her skin, or massaging it with moisturizing creams. And who, later, lovingly brush her hair, the traditional hundred strokes.”

And these:

“My wife came into the bedroom and sat at her dressing table to apply her makeup. She was wearing a silk robe that I had hung in the bathroom that morning. As she applied her makeup, she noticed that there was a chip in the polish on one of her toes. ‘I don't have time for a pedicure now, but fix that chip for me while I finished my makeup.’ I found the polish and first cleaned the old polish from that one toe and then applied a new color and topcoat. And then I remained at her feet…”

“Beauty care for my wife includes bathing her, brushing hair, doing makeup and nails, laying out and assisting in dressing her.”

“My Mistress requires me to massage her feet, paint her toe-nails and shave her legs. Occasionally she has me bathe her.”

“I'm going crazy, giving her footrubs, watching her try on new dresses, watching her put on her make-up in the morning, watching her do her fabulously thick and rich hair.”

“I kneel next to the tub and begin to bathe my wife as I have done so many times before. I try to remain calm as I run the sponge and soap over her back, breasts and legs as she relaxes.”

“Saturday morning after she showered, my wife called me in and said, ‘You may watch me put on makeup and blow dry my hair if you wish.’ I do love that, I have always stolen glances just to watch her do that! To me, a woman doing that is so feminine, erotic and powerful.”

Fdhousehusband, whose discontinued blog “Her Househusband’s Life” is sorely missed by many us, offers this advice to husbands embarking on wife-led marriages: “Help Her dress and undress each day.”

And for macho guys who, like MacDonald, heap scorn on such servile behavior, “Fd” heaps his own scorn in return, leavened by pity:

“i always laugh when i see [husbands] on TV shows, films and even [among] my male friends impatiently waiting at the door for their Wives to finish dressing and yelling out something about ‘being late.’ i think to myself, ‘Why isn't he helping Her?’ One of my important jobs is to help Her get dressed each time She heads out the door and to reverse the process when She comes home. my assistance saves Her precious minutes from Her busy day and makes myself useful. And besides, i get to enjoy this very special and intimate contact with Her!”

But, to return to the main point of this posting, is it really possible to reconcile such servile behavior with manliness? It’s a fair question. In the first giddy euphoria of this lifestyle, back almost fifteen years ago after I first launched into all-out wife worship after reading Lady Misato’s revolutionary website (“Real Women Don’t Do Housework”, I went a little wacky, I guess. My wife quickly became annoyed by my constant (and almost overnight) solicitousness. “Don’t be a sycophant!” she snapped. She was right, of course. (When isn’t she?)

I think I’ve learned a thing or two in the years since—learned how to reconcile manliness with, uh, well, servility, for want of a studlier word. Or, shallwe say, with service to my Queen. She does not object to being adored, catered to, obeyed, and all the rest. But she wants a man to be serving her and obeying her, the man she fell in love with and married, not a toady, not a wuss or a wimp.

Which brings me back, as seems inevitable in these postings, to the old romantic courtship model of wife worship, as set forth by Lady Misato and many others since. The paradigm is embodied in the knighthood ceremony depicted on the cover of my first book. The worshipful boyfriend or husband defines and models his devotion along the lines of a heroic knight to his queen, kneeling before her after each brave deed and seeking her next commission.

I use Knight-Queen advisedly, in preference to Knight-Lady, because a major motive to the medieval knight’s devotion to his queen derives from the vast disparity in their respective stations. It is not a disparity simply of rank, of course, or social standing, but of power. In the case of a Queen, we may assume that her power over the man on bended knee is absolute.

Thus the intrepid man-at-arms bowing low before her and stretching his neck in his prostration, prays for a gentle downward touch of the flat blade of the great longsword in her grip, conferring knighthood. But his submissive pose, and the fearsome blade she wields, also illustrates that she has the power of life and death over him. She could as easily smite him with the edge and remove his head--or have it done, the way Queen Elizabeth I eventually disposed of her beloved Earl of Essex.

This particular queen-knight tale has inspired many dramatic retellings, notably Donizetti’s tragic opera, Roberto Devereux and Maxwell Anderson’s play in blank verse, Elizabeth the Queen, which was adapted to the screen as The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex, starring Bette Davis and Errol Flynn. FLR write large.

Which brings us to a new question: What is the role of the unequal balance of power in a Female Led Relationship? But I’ll leave that for another day and another post.

END PART ONE

Who Knew? Women Are Trying These FLR Blog Post Ideas on Their (Mostly) Willing Guys

I never imagined, when I began this blog back in 2007, that my imaginings and scribblings would actually influence marriages and romantic relationships. I kinda hoped that might be the case, mainly by leading more husbands and boyfriends into the path of perpetual courtship and wife worship. I have been especially delighted, for instance, to learn, via several emails and comments, that there are wives who have their husbands read aloud to them at night from my books.

But the notion that girlfriends and wives would take “male management” ideas shared here and implement them verbatim in their own budding FLR relationships… well, as the title above says, Who Knew? With Elise Sutton, perhaps, but moi? It seemed farfetched and fantastical. But exactly that has been occurring.

For instance, my favorite guest blogger Beckie Sue took the blog post of Au876 on Financial Control, Part 1 (and yes, there is a Part 2) and applied several ideas from it more or less as written to her own marriage. As a result, her husband was instructed to surrender his debit card, had his his paycheck direct-deposited to his wife’s private checking account (just like me), and was restricted to $10 pocket money, with instructions to inform her promptly if he spent any part of it, so she could “replenish it.” “He had questions and doubts,” Beckie Sue writes, “but I told him the decision is final and permanent.” Moreover, she forwarded the Au876 posting (about husbands surrendering complete financial control to their wives) to “a couple of my friends to read and consider implementing some of the ideas.”

Whew! And as you are about to read, from the anonymous and adventurous young man whose postings I featured in “Starting Early on an FLR,” my blog on female-led shopping inspired his girlfriend to design mall outings for him in which he was basically the beast of burden for her and a girlfriend and… well, I’ll let him tell it.

But let me say first that no, I do not feel like a traitor to my gender for inspiring these women (and perhaps many others) to exert such increasing and sometimes capricious control over their husbands and boyfriends. I suspect these dudes are actually reveling in their new female-led constraints, despite discomfort, reduced status, etc. Please let me know, guys, if I’m wrong in this.

Now, to Anonymous and his experience in "Girlfriend Led Shopping"*:

Anonymous

My girlfriend and I had gone shopping a couple times early in our relationship. This was before it even started developing into what it is now. Those trips were the typical co-ed shopping trip; she would spend forever looking at stuff while I would wander off and either sit and wait somewhere or find a more interesting store to shop in (think video games).

It ended up being equally miserable for each of us, so we both sort of came up with an unwritten rule that shopping would be something that we'd each do on our own. Neither of us had reason to reconsider this unwritten rule.

That is until we worked our way back to your set of blog entries. She decided a trip to the mall (or “mauling” as I normally referred to it) would be a good way to evaluate my progress. She called her best friend and made arrangements for the following Saturday.

Prior to our departure on Saturday, she went over the rules. From the time we get there until we leave, I don't get to sit down. I carry all the bags and I'm not allowed to set them down. When they want me to, I also carry their purses. I am not allowed to fidget or appear to be bored. I have to stay three paces behind, yet still keep up with them.

Even though there was reasonably close parking, I dropped them off curbside in front of one of the big department stores, parked the car, and then caught up with them inside. They were sampling some of the perfumes. Without a word, they hand me their purses and go back to exploring the merchandise. I began my day as an obedient valet.

The first hour or so was actually easy and I would have to admit kind of fun. It's weird how it feels to be a good servant; it kind of gives a sense of pride. I diligently followed them around carrying their bags for them, carrying their purses when they wanted me to (which was actually most of the time), doing the holding all of the garments they wanted to try on, retrieving other sizes, and returning stuff they weren't interested in.

There was one incident where she gave me a dress to put back on the rack. The saleslady that was helping them tried to grab it saying that she could take care of it. My girlfriend chimed in and told her not to worry about it because I love doing stuff like that. The saleslady gave me a quizzical look. I just smiled and said, “I live for this” as I put the dress back on the hanger and headed to the rack to put it back up. My girlfriend's friend watched the exchange and got a good kick out of it. I didn't hear the comment the saleslady made after I walked away, but I bet it would have been interesting.

After they picked out the stuff they wanted, they'd retrieve their purses, and my girlfriend would give me the debit card and tell me where they were headed for next, leaving me to take the stuff to the register and pay for it.

For the most part, this wasn't a problem. However, one store we visited sold accessory type stuff and was fairly busy. One of my standing rules is that if I am in line and a woman gets in line behind me, I have to let her go in front of me. I was the only guy in the store. I ended up letting about 10 women go in front of me. The only exception to the rule is I don't have to let them go in front of me if they are displaying insignia from a sorority different from my girlfriend's. Luckily, I spotted Greek lettering on one lady's necklace that allowed me to secure my position in line.

Needless to say, my girlfriend was not pleased that it took me so long to catch back up with them. She accepted my excuse when I explained why I was delayed, but said that I would still have to make up for being late.

After what was probably about two hours, they decided it was time for lunch. We headed to the food-court. Before getting there, she reminded me that the rules about carrying the bags and not being able to sit down still apply in the dining area. Then she queried about how much cash I had left over from my allowance. We got to the food-court and they picked out what they wanted. My girlfriend relayed the order to me, added what I was to get for myself, and sent me off. She likes having me eat minimal sized meals when we're with her friends.

She noticeably didn't give me the debit card, so I bought the food with the remains of my weekly allowance, which was barely enough to cover the cost. This was obviously intentional since she had made sure how much money I had to begin with.

Carrying the food along with all the bags was a tricky juggling act, but I managed to complete it without spilling anything. Fortunately, the ladies picked a tall table so it wouldn't look too awkward for me to be standing there while eating.

While walking through the mall, there were other couples attempting to shop together. All of them were where my girlfriend and I were at the start. The guys were moping around looking disinterested, attempting to spot where the nearest seat was, and wishing they could take a detour to one of the electronic stores or something of more interest. My girlfriend would spot such couples and make sure to parade me right in front of them. She would also ask something as we passed such as, “are you able to keep up with us?” I would diligently respond with a smile, “Yes, dear.” She loves showing off and making other women jealous. I will admit it makes me feel good to help her do so.

As time went by, the number of bags grew and grew. While the weight of each bag wasn't a whole lot, the compound effect of multiple bags began to get taxing. While her girlfriend was in the fitting room, I requested to consolidate some of the bags together so that I wouldn't have to juggle so many of them. She merely responded by pressing her finger down on my upper lip, her way of telling me she didn't want me talking.

All that constant walking and standing was starting to really make my legs tired. I had to more and more make a conscious effort to remain well behaved. Even though it's where they would spend the most time just trying stuff on, I came to really like it when they went to the shoe stores. Helping her try on different shoes allowed me to kneel down and rest the bags on the ground.

I could also sense that they were starting to get tired as well (as if women could actually get tired of shopping). They would start doing a tag team at some of the fitting rooms, where one would sit and relax while the other was trying stuff on. Of course, that was not an option for me as I was either running garments back and forth or playing my role as a coat rack near the entrance to the fitting room.

Other women shopping or trying stuff on would seem to always make some comment, either directly to my girlfriend or her friend or open to everyone. The most common one was 'I need to get one of those.” Each time they'd say something, I could see my girlfriend beam a smile, reminding me again what this was all about. She would just tell them that the best thing about it was that I actually enjoyed shopping with her. I think she enjoyed the attention and comments as much as anything else.

The drive back to the house was a relief. It was the first opportunity to sit down that I had since driving to the mall in the morning. When we got back to the house she said that since it took me so long at that accessory store that I owed each of them a half hour of leg and foot massage. This probably would have been expected even if I didn’t have that blemish on my performance. I would give one of the ladies a massage while the other would be trying on all the different outfits and stuff they had bought, then they’d tag team swap. It probably ended up being about two hours.

After they were done, her girlfriend wrote her a check for her portion of the purchases and left. My girlfriend gave me her review of the day. She said I was much better behaved than way back when we first attempted shopping together. However, she added that she thought I was having to consciously work at enjoying it and that our goal should be that we get to the point where I don’t have to work at behaving and that it’s more natural. She summed it up saying, “On the whole, I had a good time. All of us had fun. I got a bunch of new stuff for my wardrobe, and I even made some money at it.” She folded up the check her friend gave her and stuck it in her purse. I do not expect she put it back in my account.

This all happened about six weeks ago and she’s decided that it’s time to make a return trip to the mall. She’s called another one of her friends (she says she has more fun when shopping with friends) and we’re about to head out.

Sorry about this being so long. I sometimes tend to ramble on. I also apologize for taking so long to post, but things have been busy for me and she doesn’t always consent to my internet time.

Do any of my readers wish Anonymous had written shorter? I bet not. As for me, I can’t wait to read his next installment. And, as for his precocious girlfriend, she is welcome to borrow anything she likes to expand her delightful dominion over him.

* You can read his original comments below the post “Wife-Led Shopping: The Ultimate Test, Part 2”.