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.
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.
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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?
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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.
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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.
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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)?
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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?
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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.
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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.
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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I had a clear list of hard and soft limits when I started experimenting with kink. Or at least, I thought I did. What I realized over the past ten years, is that many of those limits were entirely dependent on context. Some hard limits dissolved in specific situations or with certain partners. Soft limits could turn to steel during the negotiation process, and sometimes I couldn’t figure out why I was suddenly feeling so uneasy.
“Person X did/said _________, is that ok/normal?”
I hear this question from newbies a lot, and I understand what they mean by it. Is this accepted behavior in this community, and is it something I should just get used to? I know they’re simply trying to get their bearings and determine if/where they fit in. But what matters is not whether it’s ok in the kink scene, what matters is whether it’s ok for them.
You get to set your own boundaries. Period. Now, your limits may cause fewer people to want to play with you, just like having niche kink preferences may result in fewer compatible partners. Setting your standards means some people may not meet them, but learning how to take care of yourself and ask for what you want/need is a huge part of navigating the kink ocean.
Spend time on introspection and figuring out where your comfort levels are, and learn to communicate them as clearly as you can to any potential playmates. Recognize that this is just a jumping off point. Be prepared for limits and boundaries to change as you experiment, but be wary of people who treat your limits as an invitation.
I once told someone I was playing with for the first time not to kiss me on the mouth during our play. He then spent much of the scene moving his face in close to mine, often quickly and unexpectedly, as if he were going to kiss me but never actually did. He might have thought he was mind~fucking me or demonstrating his domliness by taking me right up to the edge. Instead he was ensuring he’d never lay a hand on me again. I expressed a limit/preference, and he spent the duration of our very first play encounter testing it. I wasn’t able to relax, because it felt like he might kiss me at any time and I’d have to stop the scene.
Skirting the edges of my boundary without actually crossing that line isn’t technically a consent violation. But with a brand new partner, what was he trying to accomplish? It made me seriously question his judgment, and subsequently, his safety both physically and emotionally as a play partner.
When someone (especially anyone new to me) communicates a limit, I do everything in my power to show them I’ve heard it, respect it, and will honor it. Even if it means adjusting my normal style of play, I will avoid doing anything that might be construed as testing that boundary. Sometimes that means we end up not being compatible partners, but I’d rather not play at all than constantly be questioning what lines (mine or theirs) my partner will and won’t cross.
Eliciting a safe word shouldn’t be the objective. Anybody can whack away at something until they destroy it. You know what takes skill? Not breaking me. Building a rapport and connection that allows both of us the freedom to explore and expand our horizons. When that happens, I may trust and respect you enough to consider playing on the edge with you. Until then, my limits are not your To Do list.
2013. I’m feeling very optimistic about this year. Lots of irons in the fire, a brand new partner to help me at Bay City Blues phone sex, and what is shaping up to a be a lovely round of fringe festivals. So far, I’ve gotten into London, Toronto, Winnipeg, and Vancouver. Still waiting to hear about Victoria, and that will determine whether I submit for Indianapolis and/or Boulder. And yes, getting into Winnipeg means I have to finish my new show. Which is so not a show yet, but it will be.
And I love love LOVE my new home. It’s just the place I need for a fresh start, plenty of room to move, even with two roomies. The view from my bedroom window defies description, so I’ll have to snap a photo of it one of these evenings with a killer sunset. The cats are adjusting to staying indoors- as much as I hate keeping them inside, the park across the street is an off-leash area for dogs and I’m really scared to risk it. We’ll see how I hold out after a couple months of kitten cabin fever.
I have so many projects in the works that I actually had to make a schedule, or time budget. Otherwise, I just get bogged down in minutiae and distracted and don’t finish everything I need to. Well, it seems like I’ll NEVER finish everything on my plate, but at least now I’m not trying to get it all done today. Lol.
Oh, did I mention I’m teaching at Westcoast Bound this year? A basic “101” talking dirty version, plus a more advanced version for those willing to experiment/practice publicly and get feedback. Please pass on that link to any BC friends who might be planning to attend the conference- I can always use more friendly faces in class, and I am looking to arrange one or two scenes in advance for each of the play parties…
Mmm, it has been too long since I’ve been to an immersive kink event- I can’t wait for the first week of February! Until then, perhaps the phone sex perverts among you will keep me company? 😉
Tonya