The 905 is not another country and I am tired of the face people make
Posted as an_hour_is_an_hour
- Looking for
- one submissive who will not discover the distance in month four
- Experience
- Twenty one years, three long dynamics, the last of them six years.
- Around
- the 905, Toronto
There is a face people make when I say where I live. A small readjustment, a recalculation, and then a slightly kinder tone. I have seen it often enough to predict it, and I have stopped being polite about it.
I am forty nine, I live in the 905, and it is an hour. That is the whole of it. An hour. People here will happily spend ninety minutes each way going to work five days a week and then describe a single evening trip out as though it required a ferry and a passport.
Dominant, twenty one years in, three long dynamics, the last of which ran six years and ended when she emigrated. I have a house, a proper space inside it, and no neighbours who care what is happening at eleven at night, which is more than most of downtown can say.
What I want is one submissive, long term, seen weekly. I will do half the travelling. I will drive in. I have done exactly that for years and I do not resent a minute of it. What I will not do again is spend four months talking to somebody who is enthusiastic right up until the point where a trip is actually required of them.
So the test is simple and I am putting it in the advertisement. If the distance is going to be a problem, it is a problem now, not in October. Not looking for occasional. Not looking for anybody who needs the city around them to enjoy an evening. Not looking to argue about a map.