Daydream Daddy

Chapter 1: Belonging

        A month has passed since the breakup. 

I can't even speak his name without my blood heating up. The bed is no longer isolated and frigid, but warm with the random bodies I bring home every night. Each person differs from the other. Some begin by making small talk, while others trace their hands along my upper thigh on the drive home from the bar. I will take either to replace the feeling I felt on the first night; numb. The sexual encounters are less than fulfilling, to say the least, but they give me a tempory high from this world. Of course, whoever is the first to wake up is gone before the other awakens. The numbness creeps back in during the day once I am alone, making me daydream of the next person I will sleep with tonight. Typically, I drown out my thoughts by working. It's a dream job, honestly. One that most people wish to do.  I express my feelings by painting and creating artwork for my job, but there is no way to convey this feeling onto a canvas. I imagine the creation in my head as I lie in bed; a canvas, painted in only a sheer black oil.

"Maybe if I throw some glitter on this, it could better." I think aloud. I am unaware if I'm talking about the idea brewing in my head or my life. I look outside through my window that lays next to my bed and stares directly at my car. I need to have a day to myself that consists of more than hiding inside my empty fiance-less apartment or sitting with diminished creativity in my art studio. I look over to the other side of the bed to see the imprints in the sheets of the guy who slept next to me last night. I roll my eyes as if saying to myself "whatever," like I didn't want the stranger to still be beside me. 

My feet somehow manage to throw themselves off the edge of the bed and drag my body to my closet. I open it to my clothes and, to the side, my secret. Aside from the hoodies, leggings, and skirts, there is my coloring book collection, crayons, stuffed animals, and play clothes. I couldn't bear to see them daily, so they've been banished to the corner. 

My fiance was my first and only daddy. He was the only man who would take both me and my brat side. The only man who ever will.  I introduced DDLG to him first after our first year of dating, and he agreed. I knew if I involved sex, he would eventually agree to it. But it was much deeper than sex. I wanted to be comforted, protected and cared for. I wanted someone to know me on a deeper level. Before I met him, I was actively participating in the community online. Becoming a "little" for me meant that my worries could disappear for a moment, while I only focus on the things that make me happy. 

I acknowledge I am what many people call weird or different. I also acknowledge that no one else will be capable of loving both my adult side and my little side. 

I shake my head and toss my pajamas over the pile of pink toys and I undress. Despite the negative feeling of seeing my little things, I feel a source pulling me over to a pink ruffled dress to wear today. Along with my ruffled socks in my Mary Jane shoes, I feel like a completely different person than the person who has worn grey sweatpants for the last month. 

The possibilities are endless for today. "Baby steps," I think to myself. "Baby steps." I'll start by going out for breakfast on my own. I look at the clock that reads 11:15. Make that lunch. I will go get lunch on my own. 

Before running out my front door, I grab a small stuffed dog named Taco and shove him in my bright blue purse for encouragement. I sit down in my car, giddy with excitement. Where will I go today? I'm free. I'm free from a relationship, and free from others opinions. Today, I am going to try and not care what others think of me. Today, I am not going to use people to remedy my loneliness. 

The car feels like a portal to another world. All I have to do is turn on the engine and drive to my destination. I pull out of my parking lot and head to a local coffee shop. There, the aroma of blueberry muffins and hazelnut coffee float through the air. My stomach is not taking anything but food for an answer, so I head up to order a balanced lunch consisting of a muffin and a strawberry smoothie. I eagerly wait for the woman behind the counter to finish up my drink, because the seats available in the shop are now filling up with a lunch crowd full of business people off work for a break. By the time I get my smoothie, all of the seats are taken except for one spot on a sofa on the left side. The right side is occupied by one large man, who honestly needed a whole sofa to himself. This man was not overweight, but simply large. He looked to be well over six foot, with the appearance of Clark Kent with the thick, square glasses he was wearing. Only a much bigger Clark Kent. I audibly groan at having to share a seat with someone, especially with the little room available. There is always the possibility of me darting out of the cafe into my car to eat in secrecy, but the chills of the January air keep me from going outside. I slowly ease myself next to the man who appears to be reading a sci-fi novel. I plop down with my muffin on the sofa and lay my smoothie on the table beside it. 

"Please don't make eye contact, please don't make eye contact," my brain repeatedly thinks. For someone who sleeps with random men every night from the bar, my courage in the daylight is strikingly low. He looks over, despite my mind pleading him to not. 

"Hey, nice socks." The man laughs, looking down at my shoes with ruffled socks. I sense sarcasm at my childlike appearance, so I simply nod. He understands the vibe I am giving off, and returns to his book. When he doesn't notice, I look over at him. His facial hair is stubly, and he has a bit of pudge on his stomach that I find really cute. Is it too early to suggest a nighttime adventure? 

"Do you like what you see?" He caught me looking at him. I think of Taco in my purse and my tension eases. 

"You are a big guy," I reply, not knowing what to say. "I mean, I like it. I mean, it's unusual. You work it well, is all." He really did, especially at the way his shirt clings on to his large biceps. 

"And you're a little girl. My name is Dalton." He extends his hand to shake mine. His voice matches his body, big and masculine. My heart flutters at someone calling me a "little girl" even if it was not for my intended purposes. 

"Miki." I reply, shaking back. In that instant, I knew I was going to be sleeping alone because I was not going out with just anyone tonight.