I have been struggling to write this blog post for awhile. The fear is irrational, mostly, but that doesn’t make it quieter, that doesn’t make it fade. The fear is that I will be misunderstood, that I will not be taken seriously, that my very earnest rumination will be interpreted as trite. You see, Reader, I’m in a bit of an evolution …
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
When I first began writing about sex (two blogs ago) I was just tiptoeing into kink. Polyamory and non monogamy have been present on my psyche and my everyday life for twenty years but kink came much later. I began that circuitous journey a confused little masochist, aching for more intensity but without the courage to find it in a new partner. Instead, I turned to one of my evergreen partners and we decided to make an honest go of D/s. We studied, we read, we talked and we played. We tried, we really did but the boundless chemistry we’d always had was stifled by our power dynamics. As the submissive I was constantly internally critical of him and he struggled to engage in that dominant energy consistently. His interest in power dynamics was limited as mine began to multiply and I began to realize that I wanted to experience the other side of the coin. Luckily, our long standing relationship and excellent communication allowed for us to weather the D/s storm and let go of that dynamic without damaging the relationship. We released each other and he encouraged me to explore my curiosities about Dominance. Such is true love, it bends but doesn’t break.
I spent the next 18 months pushing myself to explore that Dominant side of myself that I had avoided looking directly at until then. To say it was a challenging time would be an understatement. There were fuck boys a plenty, hundreds of FetLife messages and scores of shitty first dates. There were users and abusers, breakdowns and bleak self doubt. There was, however, one shining jewel among them (I know you’re reading, Darling. Smile, remember us fondly) but his love lay far across land and sea, and in the end, it simply wasn’t enough to sustain us.
Not enough. Not enough. These are words that rolled around in my mind with every hasty hookup, every wasted bottle of wine, every regrettable morning after. I never felt right. I never felt legitimate. I walked the walk and talked the talk but inside I was constantly unsure, afraid to be a real person with feelings, unable to trust these men. They offered themselves up, kneeling, professing service and dedication, but I was unable to trust that I could free fall into them as I so desperately wanted them to free fall into me. I tried on different capes: I was firm and fair but never the whip wielding cat woman fantasy. I was gentle and doting but not maternal per se. I was exacting and self serving – they liked that – but I felt hollow. I couldn’t ever shake the feeling that I was a sheep in wolf’s clothing; an imposter. I felt like a fraud.
I worked so hard to be open to Dominant energies and opportunities. I crafted a personal philosophy on FemDom, I thought about it, wrote about it, lived it, breathed it, fetishized it, wanked to it, pulled myself apart at the seams to do it, to be it, but it always fell short. Not only was I left empty and bitter, I was plagued with doubt and shame, drowning in misplaced responsibility. And Reader, more than all that, I was tired. Bone tired. Tired into my very soul. Tired of the two steps forward, three steps back, the demented broken tango in which I always had to lead. I had convinced myself that the root of my desire for dominant roles in relationships was anchored in a need to be needed. I wanted to be the lighthouse in my submissive’s life, the steady light that could guide him safely across choppy seas. I wanted to give and give and give and be undone by that giving. But I was so tired. So much so that I hung up my Domme hat entirely.
So what’s a bone tired, introverted, poly Switch with kink identity issues to do? Well, if you’re me, you get a bit anxious, add a pinch of depression, two shakes of self loathing and all that’s left is to cement your crisis with an unreasonable fear of sharing your kink fluidity with anyone lest ye be seen as flakey or indecisive. Switch erasure in the kink community is a hard pill to swallow and has made a lot of this journey something I struggle to share about. The thing is though, I like you all, I feel at home in this community and I’d hate to compromise that because I’m a switch-hitter who pops up on Twitter one day, virtually unrecognizable because I’m taking a detour on this road through Kink.
But I have to be me.
I have to say comfortably, proudly even, that I’m still figuring it all out and I’m only ever where I am. I can’t manufacture self understanding, I can’t rush, I can’t solve questions that I haven’t been invited to ask of myself yet. I need to learn to be present in myself, no matter the label I’m identifying by, no matter the dynamics at hand.
And then something magical happened: I fell ass-over-tea kettle in love with a fellow sapiosexual kinkster and we found our groove, we hit our stride and we crafted our own dynamic. We stripped down the dynamic so it was simple and flexible, no punishment, no Old Guard protocols. At His discretion it’s highly structured and ritualized, positive reinforcement reigns and mutual expectations for each other are very high. We have achieved a lot already through collaborating as equals but choosing our roles in our power dynamics smartly, with our heads and hearts. We both get what we need from our dynamic and it has been enlightening to find that this is the combination that works for us. Our metamours are overjoyed for us, our luck seems limitless, and it is unspeakably amazing to be counted among his many passions in life. Who would have thought I’d make the switch from Domme to Daddy’s Girl?
So here I am, a new chapter opening before me, some hard learnings behind me and Daddy and the rest of our polycule by my side. In all of this I have had one significant victory: I realized that I didn’t actually need to be needed, I needed to be seen.
Thank you for reading along. Thank you for seeing me for who I am.