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.
“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.
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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