I haven’t posted in forever. There are so many things I want to write about that I don’t know where to start. And there’s this whole global pandemic thing, which is making “normal” seem like an alien word to me these days. So…baby steps. People always ask me for this recipe, but there isn’t one. As with many of the things I cook, I don’t really have a recipe with amounts of ingredients, because I always just kind of make it from memory. But since that’s not very helpful, I tried to cobble instructions together. Here’s what you need…
- soy sauce
- whole water chestnuts
- brown sugar
- bacon
- round wooden toothpicks
I usually figure one 8oz. can of water chestnuts per 4-5 people, but it really depends on what else you’re serving. People eat the heck out of these, so I always err on the side of making an obscene amount. Miraculously, there are never any leftovers no matter how much I make; they get eaten until they’re gone.
Drain water chestnuts, then soak overnight in a mixture of 2 parts soy sauce to 1 part water. Make sure they are completely covered by the liquid. You don’t have to soak them overnight, but they need to soak at least 8 hours, 12-16 is better, 24 is too long.
One hour before you’re ready to assemble, put tooth picks in a bowl and cover them with warm water so they absorb moisture and don’t burn up completely during baking. Put some brown sugar in a bowl and keep the bag of sugar handy for refills. You’ll end up using however much you need, but you want to avoid cross-contaminating the bag.
Cut your bacon strips in halves or thirds, depending on how long/thick they are. Each strip needs to be able to wrap around a water chestnut and overlap ends enough to secure with a toothpick, but you don’t want too many layers of bacon or the inner layers won’t get crisp. I find thick cut bacon can take too long to crisp up, but thinner bacon can fall apart in the wrapping process. Often times, I will use a rolling pin to flatten thick cut bacon a bit, which usually means I can get 3 pieces to wrap from an average strip of thick cut bacon. But you’re going to have to wrap a few pieces to get the hang of it and decide what feels easiest/best with the bacon you’re using.
Drain the water chestnuts but do not rinse them. Sprinkle brown sugar (a light dusting, probably about a teaspoon) on one side of a piece of bacon, put one water chestnut on top of the sugared side, wrap bacon around chestnut so non-sugared side is on the outside, and secure with a tooth pick. Remember that the bacon will shrink during baking, so don’t stretch the bacon too thin or wrap it too tightly, or it will come apart and unwrap from the chestnut when it bakes. (Honestly, it took me a couple batches until I got the hang of it.) Repeat until all your soaked water chestnuts are wrapped.
At this point, you can cover the rumaki and keep in the fridge until you’re ready to bake, up to 24 hours. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Place rumaki on a wire rack over a sheet pan (or in a sheet pan lined with tinfoil or parchment paper) and bake for 30 minutes or until bacon is desired crispness. This can take an hour or more if you like them really crispy, depending on bacon used and overall size of batch. You’ll want to check them after 15 minutes and might need to flip them over once or twice to keep them from sticking, especially if you’re not using a wire rack. Once they get close to where you want them, check them every couple of minutes because they’re fine, they’re not done, they’re fine, they’re still not done, they’re fine, OMG they’re burnt.
Remove from oven and try to let them cool before stuffing your face with them. 🙂
I don’t really know where to start. This year so far has been extremely difficult for me, but there is finally some light at the end of the tunnel. I feel like an explanation for my absence- online and in various communities of which I am a part- is long overdue. Bear with me, because it’s a lot.
One of my partners (J) is currently working a project near Seattle, which requires him to be up there Sunday night through Thursday evening. My other partner (H) has been on the East Coast taking care of his 89 year-old father (P) who has been in and out of the hospital. For the last couple months, I’ve been managing two households with three cats split between them, and all without any of the normal support I have from one or both partners.
In late March, for the third time in four years, we got a phone call that P’s health was failing. Each time H has flown out the next day to take care of him and has essentially been a 24-hour caregiver for months on end. It has been brutally difficult, but we promised P we wouldn’t put him in a elderly care facility. When it was the end, he wanted to die peacefully at home. But the old man was stubborn as hell. He was a fighter. The first two times (double hip replacement, pacemaker) he made remarkable recoveries.
In the midst of this, I was also preparing for Kinkfest, which took place over Easter weekend. I was the Opening Ceremonies director and emcee again this year after a two-year hiatus. I felt a great deal of pressure to honor my community with something special, since there wasn’t much fanfare over KF’s 20th anniversary last year. Overall, it was a success- as the OC director, I think I did a good job. But due to a couple major problems beyond my control, the hours before the ceremony turned into a shitshow and my performance as emcee suffered because of it. I felt flat, rushed, and unprepared. Always sucks when I feel like I didn’t give the performance I’m capable of. Of course, I’m sure that few people knew I was off, but *I* knew it.
Meanwhile, P’s prognosis turned grim. He had multiple issues, including an e-coli (!) infection that sent him into sepsis. The week before Kinkfest, H and P jointly made the decision to take P home from the hospital and transition to in-home hospice care. We knew when they did that it was only a matter of time. Friends and family came by to sit with him, tell stories, reminisce, and say goodbye, even though P was fairly unresponsive by that time.
I wanted to fly out that week, but H insisted I focus on Kinkfest. There is apparently a rule in the Jewish faith that life takes precedence over death. You’re not supposed to cancel celebratory, life-affirming plans to mourn a death. So I stayed. And Opening Ceremonies was a success, though like I said before, I wasn’t happy with my performance. Then on Saturday afternoon while I was still processing my Opening Ceremonies disappointment, I found out P had passed.
I’d already purchased a plane ticket for the following week, but I missed the funeral and still haven’t forgiven myself for not insisting I go for at least a few days before Kinkfest. I wanted to say goodbye. But I soothe myself with the knowledge that we gave P what he wanted. At the very end, he died at home amidst those who loved him. I’m leaving Thursday for another week-long trip to help H finish clearing out P’s apartment. It’s looking like settling P’s estate will take months, if not years.
As if all of this wasn’t enough…Right before we got the call that sent H back East, I was diagnosed with Hashimoto’s disease, an autoimmune disease that attacks the thyroid. While it’s not exactly great news, it is a relief, because it’s treatable and explains the multitude of health issues I’ve been struggling with over the last few years. I chose not to talk much about them, because I didn’t realize they were all related. I thought, “well this must be what aging is like. I guess it hit me early, and I’m just broken now.”
I’m glad I have answers, but I’m also facing the reality that I’ll be on medication for the rest of my life. That’s terrifying given the state of our healthcare system. I’m in the process of educating myself about my condition and figuring out what, besides medication, I can do to feel better. It doesn’t help that I also managed to catch whatever cold/chest crud that’s floating around and haven’t felt 100% (which isn’t even really 100% due to the Hashimoto’s) in weeks.
I think most people see me as strong and resilient. I am. I’m often the person my friends and family turn to for support. But right now, and for the last few months, I have been overwhelmed. I can’t handle being in large crowds or around people I don’t know very well. I either cry at everything or feel numb. The few friends with whom I’ve shared what’s going on have offered to help in whatever ways they can, but I can’t even manage the emotional labor of delegating tasks.
So I just kind of have to disappear for a while. Please don’t worry about me. I am ok. I will be ok. I will try to get out and about when/if I have the energy, but please understand all social outings are game-time decisions for me right now. I’m not really logging in for phone sex calls unless I have an appointment booked, so please email me if you’re looking to schedule a call. That, at least, I can manage from the comfort of home.
If you’re bothering to read all of this, it means you probably care about me, and for that I am truly grateful. What can you do to help me? Make sure you have a will, and that your friends and family know your wishes. Hug your loved ones. Eat something yummy. Celebrate summer. I love you, and I’ll be back when I can.
T
I stared at that toilet for a full ten minutes. It desperately needed cleaning, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done it. The thing is, it’s not my toilet. I use it often and clean it regularly, but it’s in the bathroom at his apartment, not mine. I shouldn’t have to be the only one who cleans it. And yet…
I’m in service to him. I like doing things for him around the house, love to hear that exclamation of surprise and gratitude when he notices. None of it is expected or required. I don’t have set chores or tasks to do for him, I simply do what I feel like, which ends up being a fair amount. And part of why I love him is that he sees it- sees me– and makes sure I know it. So why couldn’t I just clean the damn toilet?
He had a date that night, and I didn’t want my metamour to have to use a grungy commode. But I was annoyed. I knew I was the only person who had cleaned the toilet in months, and I wondered what would happen if I didn’t do it. Would it get done, or had this somehow become fully my responsibility? I stared at the dirty ring as minute after minute ticked away and finally forced myself to walk out the door without picking up the brush.
The next day I was back, curiosity burning a hole in my brain. And there it was, a clean bowl. Why was my heart sinking? Why was I angry? The fucking toilet was clean, isn’t that what I wanted? Why wasn’t I happy?
And that’s when it hit me. The toilet bowl was an apt metaphor for the state of our relationship. It was getting maintained- barely- at the minimum acceptable level, but most of the cleaning and maintenance work was being done by me. What he was contributing wasn’t really for me. I benefited from it, yes, but he wasn’t doing anything to show me I warranted the effort on my own. So I told him I was glad the toilet was clean, but that it would be nice if he would sometimes clean it for me since I’m the person who has to sit my ass down on it the most often. I added:
“You’re always thanking me for the little things I do for you and remarking on a daily basis how I make your life better…when was the last time I thanked you for something you did?”
Silence. Horrified realization dawning across his face.
“It’s not because I’m an ungrateful or unobservant person. It’s because you haven’t done much of that lately. I feel like I give you a lot of grace and am pretty understanding, but I can’t keep being the only person cleaning the toilet for us.”
To his credit, the next day he did the metaphorical equivalent of showing up with bags full of cleaning supplies and scrub brushes. The bathroom has been spotless for months, and I can’t remember who cleaned it last.
The moral of this story is do your fair share of chores and don’t forget to clean the toilet- it’s how the shit exits your life.
Recently I played with someone for the first time. I’ve known this person since they came into the scene 5-6 years ago, and while we’ve never been close friends, there has always been a comfortable rapport between us. I’ve been to private parties at their house and we both attend some of the same larger kink events, but our preferred bdsm passions are different- rope for them versus heavy impact play for me. We aren’t usually at the same smaller parties or classes.
We are Facebook and Fetlife friends, so I know the basics of what’s going on in their life, but we’ve never hung out and done vanilla things together. We both own and operate our own small businesses and have very busy lives. Still, I’ve always thought that if circumstances were different and we spent more time together, we would probably become good friends. I have the utmost respect and admiration for their integrity, knowledge, and dedication to learning their craft. When they asked me to tie with them out of the blue, my answer was an easy and enthusiastic yes.
We played, and it was absolutely lovely. I suspect we will do it again sometime, though we haven’t discussed it. But even if we never do, that doesn’t mean anything went wrong. We connected and enjoyed each other’s company. That’s enough. If a deeper friendship or play partnership develops organically, wonderful! If not, I’m still grateful for the experience. And this brings me to something I’ve been meaning to write about for a while now:
It’s okay if we aren’t friends.
I’ve met hundreds (thousands?) of kinksters during my time in the bdsm community. I’m often one of the first people newbies encounter at a munch, because when I see one or two people I don’t recognize standing off to the side, I like to introduce myself. If they seem receptive, I try to include them in conversations, introduce them to others, and just generally help make them feel comfortable and welcome.
Sometimes I “click” with the new people I meet, and sometimes I don’t. I might never see them again, or I might run into them occasionally as they navigate through the scene. I probably won’t ever play with them, and we most likely won’t become extremely close friends or lovers either. That doesn’t necessarily mean I don’t like them or even want to get to know them better; I just have a very full life and limited available time and energy.
I’ve also figured out over the years that sharing the wide category of “kink” with someone as a common interest is not (for me) enough of a foundation on which to build sustainable friendships or relationships. And that’s ok. I don’t need to become best friends or play partners with every single kinky person I meet. In service to my community, I try to help ease the way for new folks entering the scene, but I don’t have an agenda with them. Nobody owes me anything, and vice versa.
There is room in my life for casual, kinky acquaintances whose company I enjoy, but who I don’t spend a lot of time with outside of social/public events. There is room in the kink community for people I don’t play with or know that well or even particularly get along with, as long as I don’t have reason to believe that they are a predator or abuser. Because everything else is a matter of personality, preferences, and personal ethics.
Do I like someone’s energy? Do our bdsm interests intersect or overlap? Do we have complimentary (not necessarily identical) levels of social awareness, discretion needs, emotional intelligence, relationship practices, and communication styles? Do our schedules align? Because we are grown ass human beings with lives and responsibilities, and sometimes it’s just not a good fit. It doesn’t have to be anybody’s fault or shortcoming; it could just be bad timing or lack of compatibility.
The bottom line is that unless you are espousing some fucked up racism, white supremacy, misogyny, LGTBQIA-phobia, or predatorial tendencies, I will make an effort to be civil and courteous when our paths cross. And who knows? People and circumstances change. Someday the Universe may see fit to bring us together in a different way, but unless and until then…It’s okay if we aren’t friends.
His mother’s name was Bella. She was a scrappy, feral cat I rescued but never fully tamed. When I took her to the vet to get spayed, I learned she was already pregnant. My husband at the time, a blustery bully of a man who Bella couldn’t stand, decided she was carrying an all black kitten that was destined to become his. He would wait until Bella was sleepy, then lean in as close to her pregnant belly as she would let him get and whisper, “I know you’re in there. I’m going to call you Gollum.”
Bella had her litter in a basket in our bedroom closet. I was the only human she’d let anywhere near them in the beginning. There were three kittens- one orange tabby, one black and white, and one all black. My ex gloated for weeks that he had predicted Gollum’s existence, while I tried not to bond with the orange tabby that immediately cleaved to me. We could only keep one of them, and there was no question which one it would be. Like everything else in our marriage, his preferences took precedence over mine.
Gollum was a weird kitten. Somehow he managed to resemble his namesake in spirit and temperament, always scuttling along the baseboards of the room, magically appearing at your elbow when you had something (bacon! tuna! my preciousssss!) he decided was treasure. Gollum didn’t like loud noises or loud people and would hide in the closet he was born in whenever my ex’s band would practice in our basement. He wasn’t particularly cuddly, definitely not what you’d call a lap cat. I’m sure the volatile nature of my ex’s and my relationship didn’t help with Gollum’s overall nervous disposition either.
And then a year or so later, the marriage was blessedly over. My abusive husband moved right into his new girlfriend’s house, and I spent a couple months begging him to come get the rest of his things so I could finally close the book on that chapter of my life. Then one Sunday morning, I was awakened by a police officer at my door. The ex had obviously concocted some story about me holding his few possessions hostage for some nefarious purpose, when the reality was I would have given him everything I owned at that point if only I never had to see him again.
To his credit, the cop figured the situation out pretty quickly and excused himself to wait in the street. My ex stomped through the house, raging but not actually packing his belongings. Naturally, he hadn’t thought to bring boxes or anything to put his stuff in. I finally started cramming his things in garbage bags and dumping them on the front porch. When I was done, I laid down on the bed and stared at the ceiling, willing him to disappear from my house, my life, my heart. How had it come to this? How could I have given so much to a man so unworthy?
There wasn’t anything left to say, but he had to get the last word in. He came and stood in the doorway of the bedroom and glared at me. At that exact moment, Gollum dared to venture out from the closet.
“And that’s another thing! Gollum is MY cat, and I’ll be coming back to get him,” he spat.
Gollum looked at me, looked at him, then jumped on the bed, climbed up on my chest, and very deliberately laid down. The ex stormed off. He took every single CD we owned and never came back for the cat. I’m 100% sure I got the better end of the deal.
I didn’t pick Gollum- I wanted his brother the orange tabby, remember? But Gollum picked me. In a moment when I desperately needed some kind of validation, it came in the form of a neurotic black cat. Eighteen years later, I’ve spent more time with Gollum in my adult life than any other living being. I’m writing this now, because I know a very hard decision is looming, and I won’t be able to write this, or anything, for a while after I make it.
Gollum was always a fat cat but started losing weight drastically last year, along with patches of fur. He needs medicine twice a day now, and though his hair stopped falling out temporarily after we started him on the meds, he’s losing big clumps again. The vet says he has a tumor in his belly. The options are palliative care (treating his symptoms), surgery, or kitty chemo. He doesn’t seem to be in pain, so there aren’t really any symptoms to treat other than hair loss. He’s a bad enough candidate for anesthesia that they hesitated to put him under for his teeth cleaning last time; I won’t put him through surgery or chemo at his age. Someday soon, I know Gollum will look at me and tell me that it’s time to let him go. He’s 20 years old. He’s had a good life. And I’ve had a better life, because of him.
So this is for Gollum, before he goes. My preemptive tribute to the best crotchety, fussy, cranky, old, black cat there ever was. Thank you for choosing me.
“Why do you want to play with me?”
If you approach me about bottoming to you and I’m interested in discussing it further, this is one of the first questions I will ask you. The answer often helps eliminate people who would treat me like a fetish dispensing robot for their pleasure. When I’m negotiating potential play as a Top, I rarely get asked this question, especially not by newbies. But I think the answer is important…
I want to play with you because I want you to know that you have options. Different people play in all sorts of different ways. As long as there is informed enthusiastic consent from all parties involved, I’m not going to judge your kink. But I’ve lost count of how many newbies I know whose first experiences were with people who espoused a “you’re doing it wrong if you don’t do it MY way” philosophy.
If you’re unhappy in a situation, it’s not necessarily because you’re bad at it or doing it wrong; you may simply be incompatible with your partner. (That doesn’t make them a bad person unless they are trying to shame you, intimidate you, or otherwise manipulate you into doing things you don’t want to do. Please, please, please be very careful with anyone who tells you their version of kink is the only One True Way to do it.)
I want to play with you because I want you to know that sex is not the price of admission to the wonderful world of bdsm. I’m not going to try to fuck you. We will not be having sex the first time we play. Indeed, we will likely never have sex unless we develop an on-going relationship other than “play partners.” This is a personal limit of mine, and it may mean you don’t want to play with me. I can accept that.
I want to play with you because I’m not going to test your limits. I will do everything in my power to ensure I understand your boundaries, and I will respect them. Especially the first time(s) we play, I will avoid doing anything that might make you nervous I’m anywhere close to violating your consent. Which means I’m not going to blow your mind. I’m not a magical wizard who knows exactly how to transport you to the optimum submission zone with zero damage, and I don’t pretend to be.
I’m going to be careful with you, and if that means I don’t meet some romanticized standard of domination, so be it. In other words, I am not the Christian Grey you’re looking for. I don’t have anything to prove, and my ego doesn’t require me to be the person who takes you everywhere you’ve never been before. Eventually, if we build trust and rapport, I will push you farther than you imagined possible, and we will both enjoy it. But for now, let’s take baby steps.
I want to play with you, because I revel in your trust and vulnerability. I know I strive to be a safe person to play with, but if we’ve never played before, you are taking a leap of faith. Hopefully, you’ve done your due diligence and asked around about me. Maybe you’ve seen me play publicly, or seen photos of the aftermath of my scenes on Fetlife. Perhaps you’ve been referred to me by one of my current play partners or someone you trust who thinks we’d be a good match. I’m honored that you would consider playing with me, and I don’t take that vote of confidence lightly.
I want to play with you because service is my ultimate kink. Knowing that something I did has made someone else’s life better- even for a fleeting moment- is the greatest satisfaction I can achieve. I hope through our play, you will gain new insight about yourself and your likes/dislikes. Do not mistake this to mean I don’t actually enjoy topping, or that I will allow you to top from the bottom. I delight in taking control of you, inflicting delicious torment, and eliciting responses. The service aspect is just the cherry on top.
I want to play with you, but I’m not attached to it. If the offer of play is on the table, it can be rescinded at any time, by either of us, for any reason. I will not be upset with you if you change your mind. If you don’t want to play with me, I won’t behave any differently than if you do. I am not entitled to playing with you, and I don’t think if I just wait my turn, I deserve to get a shot at you. I don’t have an agenda other than making sure you know it’s acceptable to set limits, have standards, and be discriminating in your choice of play partners.
I want to play with you, and it’s perfectly ok if we never do.
I write a lot about my experiences with polyamory, kink, and sex work. I don’t think I’m some kind of expert, I’ve just been doing all of those things for a decade or more, and I hope sharing what I’ve learned can help others avoid some of the mistakes I’ve made. Recently, I wrote that regardless of how well prepared we are for the challenges of polyamory, we all fuck up eventually, and that it doesn’t necessarily mean someone is “bad at” poly. However, if you are repeatedly choosing incompatible partners, there is something wrong. Maybe your picker is broken, not you.
I’ve had my fair share of failed relationships since I chose to become ethically non-monogamous, but those relationships didn’t end because of that non-monogamy. They ended because my partner and I were (or became) incompatible. This is why monogamous relationships end too, but rarely do those break-ups get blamed on monogamy. When a polyamorous liaison falters, it usually gets attributed to the polyamory as opposed to a lack of compatibility. Page Turner just wrote about how polyamory often sheds light on compatibility and incompatibility, and it’s a great read.
So how do you find compatible potential partners? How do you know which connections to pursue, especially when NRE (which can be felt in both poly and mono) may be clouding your judgment? How do you fix your picker?
I think the answers to these questions apply to both polyamory and kink (and even monogamy to an extent), and mostly come down to expectations. Do you and your potential partner want the same things? This seems patently obvious, but definitions can vary, and expectations can be immediate or long term. In my experience, determining compatibility is easier when you can identify and communicate your expectations in a few specific areas.
Obviously, this is just a starting off point. There are infinite variations and extrapolations on these questions, and no right or wrong answers, but determining my personal responses has saved me much time and heartbreak.
__________________
Time, Energy, Attention
How much time and energy do you currently have available to spend with someone? Is that time in person, or via text, phone, message, or social media interaction? If the time is face-to-face, will it be exclusively theirs, or will some of it be in situations where other friends or partners may also be expecting either of your attention?
How much time and energy do you expect from them? Do you expect to see them every day? Do you want to be in direct contact via text or phone daily? Are those exchanges satisfying if they are simple, short check-ins, or do they require conversations lasting more than a few minutes? When you are together physically, do you expect their undivided attention, and if so, for how long? In my case, I’m perfectly fine with a partner checking in with other partners while we are together regarding admin/scheduling, but I prefer they not spend time on extended flirting.
Are limitations on time, energy, and attention permanent, or could they possibly change if either/both of you become more invested in the relationship? Is there a timeline of escalation in your head?
__________________
Level of Discretion
How “out” are you to family and friends? Do you require Public Displays of Affection (or Kink) to feel secure in your relationship? Are either of you in danger of losing your job, family, or support network if your alternative lifestyle is exposed? How much do you care about those repercussions? For example, I’m about as out as it gets and have been for years, so I’m probably a bad choice of partner for someone whose livelihood depends on extreme discretion.
__________________
Transparency & Communication
How much do you want to know about their life and other relationships? How comfortable are you revealing (or not revealing) details about you and your interactions with other partners? At what point do you wish to be informed that they may be interested in someone new? Are you more concerned with knowing about specific activities and/or sex acts when they happen, or with being informed about feelings and emotions as they develop? How long before or how soon after do you expect to be told? Or do you not want to know anything, don’t-ask-don’t-tell style?
What level of communication do you prefer to have with your metamours? Do you tend to pursue close friendships with them or keep them at arm’s length? How much does this matter to you? For example, I don’t need to be best friends with my metamours (although I love it when that happens), but I like to be able to have a civil chat over coffee every once in a while to make sure everyone is more or less on the same page and to ensure there are no negative feelings festering.
__________________
Sex & Risk
How often do you want to have sex? What qualifies as sex to you? What is your STI status and risk to others? What level of risk are you willing to assume for yourself? What safer sex precautions do you take, and what do you expect of your partner(s)?
__________________
Existing Limits & Veto Power
Would there be limitations on your relationship with a potential partner imposed by outside parties? For example, let’s say your paramour has an existing agreement with another partner that they will only have penis-in-vagina sex with them. Are you satisfied being indefinitely limited to giving/receiving oral and manual sex? Are there limits you would impose on your partner in regard to their interaction with others? Are you comfortable with a metamour having veto power over your relationship? Do you insist upon having veto power over your partner’s other relationships?
__________________
Fundamental Beliefs
Do we have complementary social, political, and spiritual viewpoints? We don’t have to believe exactly the same things and be each other’s echo chamber, but I prefer a certain level of similarity in basic belief systems. Otherwise I’ve found that disconnect can lead to a lack of compassion and empathy that erodes the trust and respect I need to have in my partners.
__________________
So many factors play into compatibility that I could write this post for days and still not touch on them all. But figuring out my and my potential partner’s answers to the above questions is often enough to identify deal-breaker incompatibilities that make a relationship of any kind (from casual play partner to committed spouse) not worth pursuing further. And that may be the single most important thing I hope you will take from this…
Be willing to walk away.
I know that sounds negative and depressing, but consider this: if you involve yourself in a relationship with someone who is incompatible with you in the long run, you risk being otherwise occupied when a person who truly is compatible with you crosses your path. You see, I bet your picker isn’t actually broken; you probably just haven’t been paying very close attention to what it’s telling you. Regardless of how hot you are for someone in the moment, be willing to disengage with them if it becomes clear that your limits, boundaries, and expectations do not mesh well. (Unless you are open to a temporary fling, in which case, yay have fun!) Be willing to sacrifice your immediate pleasure until you determine whether you and this person are actually compatible, not just combustible.
Welcome, welcome! Step right into the wonderful world of polyamory! I see you have your annotated copies of The Ethical Slut, Opening Up, and More Than Two. Good for you! Oh, and you went to a couple workshops or classes and did a ton of online research? Excellent. You’re ready to dive in and experience all the fun sexy times with your multiple partners and their partners, and this is going to be grrrrreat!
Until it isn’t.
You see, no matter how prepared you think you are to explore polyamory, you’re going to fuck it up. I’ve been practicing some form of non-monogamy for over 15 years, and I’ve made more mistakes than I can count.
You cannot predict what will happen when you pursue different relationships simultaneously and allow yourself to love multiple people. Boundaries and limits can be maintained and honored, but all the rules in the world won’t stop you from having unexpected feelings. You can’t legislate emotions; you can only control how you respond to and act on them.
Becoming polyamorous requires translating theory into practice. Nobody is going to do that flawlessly 100% of the time, especially when they’re new and inexperienced. Human beings are fallible. At some point, it’s going to suck.
You will have to make decisions and set boundaries. They are going to affect others, as well as their relationships and dynamics, particularly if kink is also involved. You are going to make mistakes. Those mistakes are going to hurt people, including yourself.
I don’t say these things to discourage you. I say them in the hope that when the inevitable challenges arise, you will remember you are not alone. All of us stumble at one time or another. You aren’t a total fuck up. You’re not necessarily “bad at poly” or ill-suited to it.
You made a mistake; try to learn from it and avoid making it again in the future. Even if your mistake causes a relationship to end or fundamentally change, this is not the end of the world. You will survive.
Polyamory is HARD, and we don’t have a lot of positive examples, role models, or templates to follow. Even if we did, the exponential nature of polyamorous relationships means there are infinite variations of entanglement.
But it is worth it. For all the missteps I’ve made, I wouldn’t change anything. Some of the painful lessons I learned along the way were necessary. I needed to understand them empirically. It hasn’t always been easy, but I am a better, kinder, more authentic person now than I was when I began my poly journey.
You can do this. It won’t always be non-stop cuddles and orgies and happy metamours and warm fuzzies, but it won’t always be awful, either. So, if you’re deep in the middle of a difficult poly moment, take a deep breath. Forgive yourself. Then resolve to do it differently next time. Allow yourself some grace. It’s going to be ok.
Red flags are easy to recognize. They smack you in the face and hit you over the head. There’s a general consensus about red flags- a history of ignoring negotiated safe words is a bad thing, for example. Yellow flags are different. Yellow flags are more complicated, because they tend be personal and specific to the individual noticing them. They are the things that, taken individually, might not be automatic deal breakers. One or two of them? Probably just this person’s personality quirks or play style. But the more yellow flags I spot, the less likely I am to be compatible with someone, whether as casual play partners, lovers, or friends.
DISCLAIMER: This is a list of my yellow flags. Your mileage may vary. I know there are valid explanations for many of these things, so please don’t feel the need to #notallkinksters me- this is why they are yellow flags and not red ones. Your kink is not my kink, but your kink is ok. Your dynamic is not my dynamic, but your dynamic is ok. Vice versa. Objects in mirror may be closer than they appear. If that object is you and you don’t like what you see, only you can change that. Coffee is hot. Unless it’s iced. I don’t like iced coffee; it’s ok if you do.
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Overemphasis on “discretion.”
I get it. You have a life or a family or a job that could be jeopardized if certain people found out about your personal kinks. (But seriously, if you’re on Fetlife or use the internet or have a cell phone, you are already at risk. There’s no such thing as online privacy, and to quote the Princess Bride, anyone who tells you differently is selling something.) You don’t feel “comfortable” meeting at events like munches, workshops, or play parties. No problem, we could do coffee or lunch instead. But if you don’t want to meet in public at all or won’t provide a name and cell number, I’ll probably pass.
I’m an open, out, kinky, polyamorous sex worker. If discretion is that important to you, I’m a bad choice as a partner. Bottom line: my time is limited and my safety is more important to me than your comfort, so if this is non-negotiable, we will probably never meet. I don’t want to constantly worry about what you might be hiding from me or who you may be hiding me from.
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No friendly exes.
Yes, I know they’re exes for a reason. But if you’ve never managed to maintain ongoing friendships or even basic civility with any former partners, I’m going to wonder why. If all you leave is a trail of disgruntled people in your wake, at some point I’m going to consider whether the problem is not a bunch of bitter, scorned lovers/playmates, but rather you and your M.O.
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“Let me educate you.”
That’s awfully kind of you, offering to teach me something I don’t know or introduce me to something I haven’t experienced. I just hope teaching and helping to foster a more informed, safer community is truly your end goal. If you’re always honing in on (especially new) kinksters with the goal of being their first anything, eventually I have to wonder if it’s because you’re worried if they have experience and a frame of reference, they might realize you’re not nearly as adept or knowledgable as you claim. If you use the “teacher” tactic or the offering of a “learning experience” to manipulate inexperienced folks across consent lines or to get in their pants, you’re a lot closer to predator than professor.
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Pushing to play.
I understand you have a kink that you adore, and you want to share it with everyone. But if you have to spend a bunch of time wheedling, cajoling, and convincing, maybe they’re just not that into you or your kink. Disappointment is acceptable. Entitlement to their bodies, time, and attention is not.
If you ask someone to play and they decline, don’t keep badgering them. “If you’ve never tried it, how do you know you don’t like it/want to?” or “but you’ve never been caned/whipped/tied by me…” or “when are you going to let me do _____ to you?” are incredibly egotistical and presumptive statements. Insisting that you can be the one to make someone like something they’ve decided they don’t like tells me you think your desires should take precedence over their limits. Not every carnival-goer wants to ride all the rides, and they’re not required to. Not every D-type will automatically play with you just because you identify as an s-type, and not every bottom is contractually obligated to bottom to you.
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Casual sexism.
Ok, this can definitely be a red flag, but I know a lot of awesome people who are still unpacking their internalized misogyny, doing the work of recognizing their privilege, changing their behavior, and making space for femmes, despite the systemic programming we’ve all received to accept patriarchy as a way of life. Societal norms are changing at a breakneck pace (though still not quickly enough for the femmes in your life, I guarantee it), and it’s hard to keep up. I have a lot of empathy and compassion, but don’t expect me to do this emotional labor for you.
I notice if you use gendered language to derogatorily refer to those who won’t fuck you or play with you or coddle your ego. I hear you dismissing femme/femme scenes as amateurish, or making “jokes” like “there’s no such thing as a FemDomme, just a female submissive who hasn’t met the right Man yet.” I see you shrugging off so-called “minor” consent violations as “jeez the wimmins are so sensitive it’s like you can’t even talk to them anymore without getting accused of harassment.” I notice, I hear, I see, and I am not impressed. Educate yourself and do better.
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It’s not a competition.
If you derive your self worth primarily from your perceived position on the bell curve, you’re in for a rude awakening. There’s always going to be someone younger, hotter, fresher, more skilled, less skilled, older, more experienced, less experienced, safer, more dangerous…I’ve been in the scene for a decade, and I’ve learned a fair amount. I’m not done. The only thing I truly know is that I don’t know what I don’t know. There is always room to improve, and personal growth is its own reward. If you go to the whip skills class “so you can be a better dominant than Lord X” instead of “so you can be a better dominant,” you’ve already failed.
Instead of aiming to be the heaviest bottom, the most commanding dominant, the subbiest submissive, endeavor to discover and express the human being you are. Because if you’re always comparing yourself, negatively or positively, to other people, I’m going to assume you’re also comparing me in that way.
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Presuming sex.
I know. For a lot of you, sex is inextricably intertwined with bdsm. That is not the case for me, which my Fetlife profile is very clear about:
“If either my or your orgasm is a required component for bdsm play to be successful in your eyes, we are not compatible partners.”
As a sex worker, orgasms are my business. Insist that bdsm is all about the sex, and you risk putting yourself into the same category as my clients, which is fine if you feel like paying me, but even then I retain right of refusal. If we agree to play with each other, sexual contact is not automatically included. (And dudes, thinking only penis-in-vagina/ass qualifies as “actual” or “real” sex is some heteronormative bullshit right there.)
I will make it unequivocally clear that tongues/fingers/cocks/toys aren’t going on/in my or your various holes, at least not until we establish chemistry, mutual desire, and safety precautions. Which may or may not ever happen. If that’s a deal breaker for you, you get to set that boundary and decline playing with me. I appreciate your honesty.
What I don’t appreciate is the assumption that if I consent to play, I consent to sex. It tells me you didn’t read my profile very carefully. If you missed that not-so-subtle clue, what else won’t you pick up on? If you thought that approach would work, based on my profile and writings, I seriously question your decision making ability across the board. It doesn’t inspire confidence and trust.
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Lack of connection.
I prefer connected, intimate play. I’ve done lots of pick-up play and had plenty of negotiated-on-the-fly scenes with folks I barely knew. They were mostly enjoyable in the moment, but if the chemistry isn’t right, it just isn’t right. Nowadays, play is no longer worth it to me unless I have a basic like of and respect for the person(s) I’m playing with, whether Top or bottom. This does not just mean I want to fuck them; indeed, sex is often a hard limit for me during intense play.
Connection to me means that we are both authentic and present in the moment. Connection doesn’t require a high-maintenance relationship- there can be a wonderfully intimate connection in casual play. Connection can be hard to articulate, but you know it when you see it, when you feel it. There is an exchange of energy that is palpable and magnetic. When that reciprocity is lacking, there’s a coldness to the scene that is unsatisfying to me.
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Strictly performative scenes.
If I watch someone play and their scenes seem more about putting on a show than connecting with their partner, it turns me off. I can be a bit of an exhibitionist, and I’m a performer by trade, so I understand the appeal and love to play in public. I sometimes Top as “Evil Betty Crocker” because I like fucking with gender norms, and the character is fun to inhabit, especially with certain play partners. But if the success of any scene hinges on whether it’s entertaining to the bystanders as opposed to whether the participants are engaged and enjoying themselves, it can verge on feeling like work to me. I prefer to play with someone, not just function as a masturbatory accessory for their ego, or vice versa.
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Silo-ing.
Do you have a need to control your partner(s) exposure to anyone but you? That’s near impossible in my case, because my job requires me to be involved and active on social media and networking sites. I’m not going to give you the password to my phone, computer, or online profiles, or allow you to determine which sites I can be on. Nor am I going to give you access to my texts and emails. Trust and mutual respect are crucial to me. If I decide for some reason that you should be privy to a conversation I’m having with someone else, I may loop you in, but only if the person I’m communicating with gives me permission to share their words with you. (Unsolicited porn and dick picks are the exception.)
I’m not hiding anything, but if you need this level of access and control over your partner’s interaction with other people, you’re likely never going to feel secure enough in your relationship with me. That means I’d constantly be reassuring and validating you, while simultaneously being limited in my resources and support network. Probably not going to work for either of us in the long run.
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Double standards.
Whatever you negotiate with your partner(s) in your dynamic(s) is your business. But I don’t like double standards, and I’m not down with the One Penis Policy. If you can have several lovers and play partners, so should I be able to. It doesn’t make me less of a “true” submissive or you less of a dominant for there to be equity in our dynamic. Now, one or both of us may choose to impose limits on ourselves or negotiate limits with each other. But if you subscribe to a blanket policy of “I can do whatever I want, you can only do what I say,” before we even have an established relationship, I’m not comfortable with your sense of entitlement and lack of reciprocation.
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Defensiveness.
It sucks to feel judged and misunderstood. It sucks to feel like you’re always having to defend your kink or your dynamic. But if you’re constantly on the defensive, it might be time to ask yourself why. Why are people questioning you, and why do you care? If you truly believe you’re doing nothing wrong, then stop defending yourself and let people form their opinions of you through your actions. If you and your consenting partner(s) are happy, and nobody is getting harmed in the bad way, you don’t owe anybody an explanation or need anyone else’s approval. Stop wasting time defending yourself to people you will likely never convince, and stop giving them power over you when (especially if you don’t know them that well) you have no reason to defer to their judgements or seek their approval. Otherwise, methinks thou doth protest too much.
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Avoidance of difficult conversations.
God they’re hard, aren’t they? Those challenging talks we know we need to have. Requesting time for new partners, STI disclosure, reevaluating relationship dynamics, leveling up/down, renegotiating boundaries, life admin minutiae…The list goes on and on. If whenever I try to bring these things up, it’s “not a good time,” eventually I will get the message that you aren’t willing to have these hard conversations with me.
If you don’t want to hear about my past and my experiences, you aren’t ever really going to know me, because all of those things made me who I am today. Nah, I’m not going to hand you an itemized list of my past lovers and what I did with them, but i’m not going to pretend I’m a virgin either. I value intimacy built on integrity, authenticity, and transparency, and sometimes that means revealing our perceived weaknesses and shortcomings and talking them out.
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