It’s a Process Philosophies bleed. They’re not clean, each in their own carefull

It’s a Process Philosophies bleed. They’re not clean, each in their own carefully managed pen, something you can separate off from the rest of your personality, your beliefs, your ideals. They slip over boundaries, merging with ideas you thought were entirely unrelated, until you’re completely submerged in concepts, a complex web of connotation and belief that you couldn’t begin to unravel even if you know where the loose ends were. You’re trapped in a Gordian knot, and there’s no Alexander to come along with a great big sword. There’s value in discretion. Choosing who you talk to, flirt with, play with. To the right kind of person, scarcity is an economic fact; you reduce the supply, you increase the demand. That’s not to say there aren’t people who value an over-abundance, the people who throw themselves into every moment that presents itself, and every person who happens to be in that moment, but we were talking about philosophies, and that is only ever going to mean my own. The submissive who is selective, who spends time, shows patience and judgement, is one who is making a very clear statement to me; they don’t have to submit, and they won’t submit to just anyone. Because what worth is their submission if they would? If anyone with a cocksure smile and a half decent suit could have them on their knees, I’m hardly needed.  But when you take time over the decision, reject the advances of those you deem unworthy, or just ill suited, I’m intrigued. I’m coaxed, enticed, interested. Not because I’m necessary the man who is going to fulfill the need that sits heavy on your chest, between your legs, but because you’ve placed your submission into the spotlight, as something you deem worthy. And if you do that, I’m going to do the same. I’m a sucker for self-confidence. -- source link

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