Took myself on a solo date tonight—dinner, wine, a walk along the river. Felt good to be alone with my thoughts until I realized how much I missed having someone’s hand on my thigh under the table. Not just anyone’s, though. I want to feel owned again—pinned down, told what to do, praised when I obey. There’s something about giving up control that makes me feel more powerful than any orgasm I’ve chased. Maybe that’s the real adventure I’ve been avoiding: letting go completely and trusting someone to handle my messy, needy, complicated heart… and my even needier cunt.