Sometimes I think that one of the common experiences among people who identify as primarily Dominant or primarily submissive is that we occaisionally wonder what the hell our partners get out of the dynamic. For example, as a Dominant, I can conceptually understand why holding a position for a submissive in protocol play is attractive for them: they want to show their strength; they want to please; they want to prove to me and/or themself (or even other people witnessing the scene) that they can take it. I can analyze things psychologically and emotionally, and understand how certain scenes help bring catharsis, or help re-live traumas in a safe space. It gets them into subspace. I have faith that this is something my partner actually wants and has explicitly consented to.
In the end, that faith is backed up by the fact that I can can witness the transformative aspect of what’s happening in real time. Their satisfaction is palpable.
But when it comes down to it, for some of us who identify as primarily or exclusively Dominant or submissive, sometimes we just kind of look at our partner(s) after a good scene and think I don’t know exactly why that got you off, but YAY ME for getting you there, and I LIVE for that look of satisfaction on your face(s). We may not know why this or that gets us to our respective Dom- or subspaces, but we know that it does and we feel it.
But there’s a difference between theory and practice — between knowing something conceptually and actually experiencing the thing in the material world. Is someone kinky in theory or are they kinky in practice? Are they actively engaging in their kinks with people in the physical world or are they just fantasizing about it/masturbating to it rather than actually doing it? There is no judgement in this statement. There are a lot of reasons why people who are “conceptually kinky” may not act on their kinks, whether it’s logistical, due to an ethical/moral dilemma, or just a question of safety. And I want to be clear that if someone isn’t engaging in kink, that doesn’t mean they’re not kinky. Just as when a bisexual cis individual happens to be dating a cis person of the other gender, it doesn’t mean they’re not bisexual.
When it comes to kink, however, I think one difference between the kinky people who practice and the kinky people who have these feelings but can’t or don’t act on them, is that the actively kinky people have had the privilege and the opportunity to make a leap of faith. They've taken a risk. And let’s be clear, not everyone can take that risk.
As budding kinksters, we know how we feel; we may even know why we feel the way we do; but in the end, just knowing why we like to tie someone up or be tied, or lead someone by a leash or be led, or be worshipped or worship another doesn’t satisfy the craving itself. Those of us who are actively kinky at some point had to stop thinking about how and why we’re the way we are, contemplate (hopefully) the risks, and act on it.
It takes a lot of courage, and it involves emotional, physical, and psychological risk — beyond the usual RACK (Risk-Aware Consensual Kink) model. We’re sometimes risking relationships and status in our vanilla lives. If we all look honestly at our kink practices, we realize that in one way or another, what we do could be harmful to ourselves and perhaps to those around us. There is something at stake when we engage our kink.
It’s like faith itself: a reasoned faith is one in which the alternative to your viewpoint is what the philosopher William James called a “live option.” If you’ve ever gotten into the God exists/God doesn’t exist “debate” with people, it is rarely a real debate. Each person has their opinion and really no amount of debate is going to change their minds: they’re trying to change your mind and persuade you that you’re wrong. Ask someone who believes in [insert deity here] what it would take to convince them that their deity might not exist, and often the answer will be “nothing.” The same holds true for the non-believer: a miracle could happen right in front of them and they’d find every reason to believe it’s not a miracle.
That’s the difference between faith and fact. Faith is feeling-based; but feelings are not facts. A reasoned faith is one where people have actively considered the alternative as live options.
Several years ago, one bad experience with an unstable play partner (whom I had failed to properly vet) caused me to temporarily turn away from kink, I tried to “reason” kink away. I thought I could attribute or blame my desires on x, y, and z childhood traumas/issues. I read all the blog posts about the “inherent co-dependencies” of D/s relationships, as well as the occasional news story about kinky sex gone wrong. I tried to rely on those as proof that I was making the right decision to not engage in kink. But when I did that, I felt empty and inauthentic. That period wasn’t the worst time of my life, to be sure; but during that time, everything else seemed dull and monochromatic. Even my non-kinky poly partners noticed. But in some misguided stoicism, I decided that’s what “real life” was like and that I’d get used to it.
But then circumstances aligned in such a way that the right person showed up at the right time, even though — from a logical standpoint — they were probably the wrong person at the wrong time. Yet everything just kept aligning. Little flirtations here and there; clues were dropped to each other. And then one by one the opportunities just seemed to line up perfectly. When those moments came, I had to defy the logic of it and go with my gut (as did they). We talked about the risks and all that was at stake. But then we made the leap. Even though that particular relationship didn’t last, it was what we each needed at the time; and it renewed my faith in my own kink.
Although kink and love are not the same thing, they're also not mutually exclusive. Both require a certain amount of risk to our bodies, lives, and hearts. Our rational minds can weigh things out, but in the end, that leap requires going by what you feel. You take the leap and feel the rushing swirl of emotions in the freefall. Maybe you’ll land on your feet. Maybe you’ll faceplant and shatter yourself in a million pieces. When it’s all said and done with, you’ll walk away (perhaps hand in hand with someone), or you’ll sew yourself back together again (perhaps with pieces of the other person).
Either way, you’ll find yourself.
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