My Relationship with Kink (nowadays)

“So I don’t even know what you’re into,” he said, as he stroked my hair in bed. We had just had sex for the first time. We are friends on FetLife. We met, vaguely, through the kink scene. But it occurred to him that he hadn’t yet sufficiently gone through my FetLife profile or my list of kinks there to “know what I’m into.”

Thing is, I didn’t really want to talk about what I’m into. I usually don’t. And it’s not about being shy or coy, it’s about letting things develop naturally, there is a certain flow and spontaneity about it that you can’t get otherwise. Sure, throwing all your fetishes up on FetLife and having your partners, or prospective partners, read them might be convenient and easy. But I also find it a bit awkward.

Jefferson and I have talked frequently about how, whether you intend to hook up with someone or not, adding them on FetLife often immediately leads to this “TMI factor” that you wouldn’t otherwise have. All of it’s up there for everyone else to see. In regular life, you might meet someone and not know (or need to know) for years (or ever) that they’re into golden showers. On FetLife, you meet people and immediately find these things out about them. Sometimes it’s a good thing. Sometimes it’s an immediate deal breaker. Like, “You’re into anal? Oh, I’m not. There goes that, then!”

Reading and reviewing Bo Blaze’s book (50 Shades of Curious) recently also made me think about my relationship with kink of late. I’ve shortened my FetLife profile quite a bit since I started writing this blog, but one of the first things it always said on there was that “my interests in kink are ever evolving, as are my tastes in art, food, music, etc. I don’t believe that anything in life is static.” This is still true. And I’d also now add that in addition to evolving, my interests in kink also wax and wane.

Right now, they seem to be in a waning stage. I rarely find myself in the mood for heavy or intricate fetish play. When observing others involved in it these days I often tilt my head to the side and am like, “Really? This?” (Granted, there are other times when I look at it and think it’s really hot, depending on what it is and who is involved, but now is not that time).

Moreover I think I’ve discovered that most of the kink I’m into, at least at the moment, is fairly light stuff that can be incorporated into an (already) passionate sexual relationship/connection, not things that stand on their own and involve a lot of heavy planning and set up.

All the things that kink thrives on: communication, consent, negotiation forms, planning, more communication, setting up “scenes,” etc., etc., just takes away from that natural flow of desire, spontaneity and passion, which is what I crave first and foremost. There was an article recently in Psychology Today about how women get most turned on by men’s spontaneous and uncontrollable desire for them (true, I think), but that women also want men to be respectful and considerate towards them (also true), so men are left confused and not knowing where to cross that line. Women presumably want them to “ask for permission” before trying anything, but asking for permission takes away from that pure animalistic desire that women so crave. A conundrum indeed.

I don’t know how to advise men in general on this topic, but to speak for myself, this is essentially what bugs me about the whole culture of consent. If l like a guy. I want him to want me. And I want him to express that by grabbing a fistful of my hair and sticking his tongue down my throat, not by “asking for permission.” The trick is: it has to be “the right” guy. But how would he know if he’s the right guy? Well, again, I can’t speak for all other boys and girls, but I’ve been told I’m pretty obvious when it comes to this. As I tend to go through life acting (or, at least, looking) very blasé and nonchalant in a lot of cases, but when I spot somebody I like, my eyes suddenly light up and I’m all flirtatious and forward and obvious (or so I’ve been told). A lot of it is body language and chemistry and the way you look at each other and… that certain… je ne sais quoi.

And then once that chemistry/connection is there (on both sides), I just want it to fucking flow, I don’t want to talk about what you’re into vs. what I’m into, I don’t want to talk about whether or not I want to get tied up, I don’t want to write negotiation forms, I don’t want to have to plan so much.

Granted, having found the kink scene and FetLife and made so many friends within it and having dated a trans woman, it definitely helped me understand myself and others better. It helped me realize and articulate what it was I actually wanted/needed/liked sexually, physically, emotionally. It helped me communicate those things better to my partner(s) even if/when I may not want to actually talk about them. But now that I have all these tools at my disposal, I feel like I’ve crawled back into my shell and am craving a return to some sort of simplicity again, if it’s even possible.

“Remember when things were easy?” I recently said this to an old friend, who is not on the kink scene but knows all my stories about it. Times were, you meet a guy you like, you go on a couple of dates, you make out, eventually you have sex. In some cases, it’s great the first time around. In other cases, it’s just ok the first time, but if you like each other enough, you keep seeing one another and having more sex, you introduce other things into it as time goes on and as you both feel ready, comfortable and interested. And later, if things don’t work out, you break up, but you don’t usually break up because he refused to tie me up or I refused to do anal.