It has only been a year and a half now that I have, after a decade and a half in the sexual desert that was Christianity (and I understand that there are some Christian couples with satisfying sex lives), been exploring my own sexuality again. It has been one of the most fulfilling and satisfying times of my life for a multitude of reasons.
First one being that sex is fucking fantastic and I really enjoy it when it’s well done. Always have. I’m a fan. A big fan.
Second one being it has made me think about who I am and what’s important to me both sexually and on a grand scale, in my life. And this is incredibly ironic to me as this is the VERY LESSON I teach my speaking students. It is the first question I ask them- Who are you? What’s important to you and why? To find myself answering these questions and being completely honest for the first time is liberating and scary as fuck.
Thirdly it has shown me how incredibly brave I can be. Over this time I have learned to ask for what I want in bed and in life. I have learned how to push through fear to offer everything of myself to someone. To take big chances on myself. I walked through raw fear and didn’t die.
It has shown me that every person has a gift for me and I for them. Even if I think the gift is stupid or distasteful. Or if mine is.
It has brought me some of the greatest loves and friends of my life. In such a short time. Yep we’re getting nearer to the end of the toilet paper roll here folks, things are getting faster. I am very aware of the preciousness of time and life. I can’t waste anymore.
One of the sexual choices I have made is to wade into kinky waters. I have been a little enamored with bondage since I was a child and played tie up games with a friend. They weren’t sexual at the time, nonetheless, they were thrilling. And I have always had a proclivity for the odd and the fringe.
When I decided to dive in, I went to the fetish site called Fetlife to find my people. And find them I did. I found real life people and hung out with them, broke bread and drank wine and laughed and fucked with them. The freedom of being who they are is intoxicating. The energy of it. And I found people on line whose writings blew me away with their depth and honesty. I found pictures of hot people of all sizes and colours and let them seduce me with their wares as I seduced them back with mine. I found a place where I could talk about all the things I wanted to talk about. Without fear of judgement. Oh what a thing! To be, without fear.
Kinkland is not a utopian place, no. It is peopled with people. And people, including myself, just plain suck sometimes. And sometimes they are mean and awful and myopic and stupid.
But they are also generous and funny and kind and creative and stimulating.
And strange and interesting and arousing and exciting.
But there are two things that bind us all. The different ways in which we express our sexual selves and the fear of being outed for being our sexual selves.
Every so often someone writes about losing a child in a custody battle because the way they like to fuck is deemed unacceptable. Or someone loses a job. Or a client. Or an entire family. The fear is real. The consequences are real.
It pains me terribly to see so many people suffer because of the fear and consequences of judgement. It fucking pains me. And it infuriates me too.
Hey when I first started kinking, I rolled through the whole ‘did patriarchy totally fuck up my sexuality and my desires? And why do I fantasize about being submissive to a man? Or being tied up? What the hell is wrong with me?’
In fact I wrote about it at length, spoke to my counselor about it. This was not a small deal for me. And the more I wrote I came to the mundane conclusion that I will never know. Perhaps when I’m dead if I’m lucky.
I also discovered that it doesn’t matter. And that there is nothing wrong with me. I am who I am. I like me. I am a sexual woman with a great degree of agency and choice. I make many choices that bring me the pleasure I denied myself for so long. I own no shame here. In fact, dare I say I’m proud to be who I am. I do dare. How dare I?
I strangely feel equipped to deal with the judgement of kink however because I was already in exile for most of my adult life as a stripper and then in self-exile as a born again. I have already made the most ridiculous and ridiculed of life choices. People have been judging me, and I them, for a very long time.
I also have an almost 13 year old daughter with whom I have a very good relationship. She knows my proclivities – though we don’t go into detail, but as a gay kid, she is aware of the wide spectrum of human sexuality. I am proud that we communicate so openly with each other. She knows I have her back and she knows what my aspirations are.
I am self employed, though I have taken financial hits for my background and may yet take more, at least nobody can fire me.
I make my living on stages. I am comfortable talking to people and very persuasive. I also have a very wide scope of human experiences so I am lucky to have this perspective and understanding.
I feel equipped, compelled and obligated to do this.
So, slowly I have been coming out, and people are not yet setting me on fire. I mean, I’m kind of holding the match out for them, but hopeful.
‘Everybody’s got secrets. What are yours? You gonna toss that match on the pyre and burn with me? I’m just trying to get laid here. I just want to live my life. I’m too old for this shit.’
So as I slowly expand the concentric circle of my ‘outness’, it is at once terrifying and exhilarating. There is no feeling like freedom. And that is also why we kink.