I’ve played little numbers games in my head from a young age.
I recall reading something that said the average time it took to get to sleep after the head hit the pillow was seven minutes. Years of nights as a pre-teen and teen staring at the alarm clock in the darkness counting units of seven minutes. The mixed feelings of seeing the clock reach “pi” time, 3:14.
The modern equivalent is sparked off when the calendar notification goes off to tell me it’s a week until the next appointment with her. That’s the start of the counting game, 168 hours. It’s not intrusive or clock watching. The odd glance at the time on the screen or on going to bed recalculates the hours remaining. Longish gaps at first as getting below 100 hours seems so far away. Slightly more frequent recalculations once below 50 hours.
You can tell yourself that that appointment doesn’t matter and parrot “am I bovvered”, but the truth is you’re properly on the hook. It does matter and it’s easy for it to matter too much.
Oddly I find those little mental games to be calming. They help take away the build up of tension, any temptation to mono-focus and obsess. Just because I know how the dopamine hits work doesn’t mean I’m entirely immune. It’s all too easy to follow that addiction, confusing the dopamine rush with a fantasy of what you might mean to her – and many fall in to that trap.
It works for me. I can enjoy a level of anticipation without becoming a bore (hopefully). Many find themselves trying to impress and insert themselves in the domme’s attention, when the best way to impress is to arrive in the right place at the right time and leave at the right time.
Oh, and the extra mental fun when there’s two countdowns running … now, that’s me being rock and roll.