Rooting: Why I let my man come on my body
This isn’t submission. It’s structure. I let him land on me because I hold the house, and placement is power.
Men don’t hold tune on their own. They rise, drift, and return. Maintenance is rhythm. You clear him, not out of duty, but because the house stays tuned through you. You decide when. You keep him close, clear, and aligned.
This isn’t submission. It’s structure. I let him land on me because I hold the house, and placement is power.
Men are not static. They are built to move, rise, and return. Tuning is not control. It’s meeting him at design specifications.
When he’s in tune, he can cross continents, close investors, move teams. But when he’s not in tune? He drifts. He aches. He breaks focus.
Tuning is not about his need. Tuning is not about relief. Tuning is about this house. This orbit. This return. That’s why I decide when.
Five minutes. Any room. Any hour. I tune my man before friction starts. I clear him before chaos builds. I place him before drift sets in.
Maintenance isn’t romance. It’s placement. I don’t clear him because I owe him. I clear him because I built this house. And I keep it flowing.