There are some conversations in findom that really stick with you. Some moments that leave a particular mark or shift the way you understand the space.



One of mine was this:



Months and months ago, when I was getting to know a sub I particularly enjoy for the first time, he asked me if I dated submission men.



I thought he was one of those guys who got off on the idea of dommes dating dominant men, so I assumed my answer would end our conversation:



I *only* date submissive men.



My primary partner—the love of my life, the person who I explored kink with in the first place—is also the first person who collared himself for me. My worshipper. 



To my surprise, that sub received my answer as *relief*. As validation. As being seen.



He is the one who wrote that particularly long review I have posted on most of my platforms. There’s a section in it that touches on just how relieved he felt by my answer:



“*In her life both online and offline, she’s a dominant woman who likes and wants submissive men. That means...she will see you as a person and appreciate your submission.”*



It’s clear: he longed for that. To be seen and wanted and valued. Not for the performance of dominance that society constantly accepts—which he was quite good at and successful in, actually. But for *the truth of himself*.



I think about it often. I think about how this is part of what can be healing about my dynamics. The fact that those societal expectations for men don’t and have never resonated for me. The fact that your submission delights me. The fact that even in dynamics where I play with harshness or humiliation, there is a foundation of *fondness*. 



I also think about how that’s what real aftercare is. It’s between-care. It’s the foundation of the connection. It’s “I am still here after you show your vulnerable parts.” And it is, “I want your submission.” And it is “submission is *good* actually. Authenticity is good actually.”



I know other dommes play in other ways. I’m not interested in critiquing or kink-shaming. But I am interested in the ways that my experiences and my love for a submissive man have shaped me and my dynamics.



I am interested in the way that love heals—not just him but all of them. Sometimes even some of you I’ve never played. The ones who write to me about an essay that reached inside them and laid them bare and accepted them there. 



And I am interested in the ways that this is truly transgressive. The single-dimensional shaming of men for being submissive feels boring to me. It’s what society already does to y’all already. 



But this: saying, *let me see you, you glorious little weirdo*. And then still being there the next day and the next. 



There’s something in that.



Something truly transgressive.



*That* excites me. 



The only men who resonate for me are submissive ones. The only space that interests me is one where I’m excited to connect with them. 



Give me submission or give me solitude. 



Give me *this* or give me nothing. 