When the Ego Gets in the Way
Even with enthusiastic consent, things can still get weird.
Several years ago, I attended a large kink event that had a beautiful dungeon space. I had planned a scene with a couple who had been together for over a year. I was excited to scene with them, because they were beautiful together and were deeply in love, which is always a gorgeous energy with which to play. They were both sub-leaning switches, but in their own relationship, one tended to be slightly more dominant. They liked playing with me because I could “take charge” and they could both fall into a mutual subspace together.
I had the pleasure of scening with them a few times prior to the event, and had spent some quality time with them outside of kink spaces, really getting to know what made them tick. I enjoy topping couples because their pre-existing dynamic establishes a basis of trust that can compound the power exchange, and deepen both subspace and Domspace. The time I spent with them and the trust we established allowed me to facilitate scenes that brought them closer together, and I considered it an honor to be a part of that energy. It was a joy.
Thus it was a no-brainer for all of us to scene at this event. I was ready. I knew their energies. I knew their boundaries, and I took the time to talk to them a few days before just to run though everything and make sure I knew what they wanted, and that we were all on the same page.
But something happened between those discussions and the weekend of the event. When we all met in the dungeon space, there was a palpable chill between the both of them. I inquired repeatedly if everything was alright, and they both assured me that all as well: they said each of them had come off of a really difficult week of both family and work drama. I offered to postpone the scene to another night during the event or call it off altogether, but they were adamant that we go ahead with the scene, because they "desperately needed it."
The scene involved bondage and impact play, with both positioned in such a way that they were touching – which was a favorite way for them to sync into their submissive energies. As I started the scene, and placed my hands on them, I could feel that their energies were poles apart. The harmony that I physically felt when we last played had given way to what I could only describe as "hot and cold" energy. One of them was hot to the touch, nearly vibrating with nervous, prickly energy; but not necessarily prickly in a positive way. The other was literally cold to the touch. Yes, it was a cold dungeon, but it was a deeper kind of cold. It felt detached.
It was more work this time around to get them into a position that energetically connected them. I remember checking in with both of them and asking, repeatedly, if they were alright for the scene. Despite the energy, their consent was clear and emphatic. I told myself that the odd energy I was feeling was nothing more than the difficulty of their week. I trusted that and went ahead with the scene.
Things proceeded somewhat stiffly at first, but started to even out a bit. I checked in repeatedly and they gave me "greens” each time, and as the scene went on, they each sank into their own separate flows. I got them into their respective subspaces, but it was work. Instead of their energies working together, I found myself basically working with two bodies that were resonating at completely different frequencies. Personally, it was one of the most energetically exhausting scenes in which I’ve ever participated. When all was said and done, both had climaxed hard, and sank into their subspaces, but they had done so separately, and almost at odds with each other. I would go as far as to say, in spite of each other.
Anyone watching would have said that the scene was "hot" and “intense,” and that based on their responses alone, that it had been successful. Indeed, in our immediate aftercare they each said that it was “exactly what they needed,” and they both seemed satisfied. There was nothing out of the ordinary during their aftercare.
But I walked away from it feeling off, and, with an unease that was something different than the usual Dom insecurity that I’d sometimes experience after a scene. While they seemed satisfied, I felt a certain ickiness that I’d never felt before, and I couldn’t shake it. I checked in with them the next day, and shared the fact that I was just feeling off after the whole thing. Together, they said they were doing just fine. But then a little later one of them found me in a hallway at the event and said that they had been having some ongoing relationship issues and had been “out of sync” with each other for a while. They apologized for keeping that from me. It was clear then that they thought a scene would help “bring them back together.”1
Had they told me what was happening, I would definitely have either completely scrapped the scene or I would have built something something VERY different with them. But I need to be very emphatic here: while they may have had a responsibility to tell me what was happening, I HAD A RESPONSIBILITY to follow MY instincts and intuition, and either enquire more deeply about what was going on, or I should have just called the scene when I felt the energy wasn't right.
I had fallen victim to my ego. I had two gorgeous people in a scene in a public dungeon space. I thought somehow that with my skills I could “fix” the weirdness I was feeling. I had enthusiastic and ongoing consent. But – again, in hindsight – none of those were reasons to go forward with something that I wasn’t comfortable with. I knew the energy was off and I proceeded anyway. That was squarely on me.
The ego can get in the way of our judgement in insidious ways.
Hindsight is always 20/20 when it comes to mistakes we make in kink. After the fact, it's so EASY for us to look at a scene that didn’t go well and think, well OF COURSE I should/shouldn't have done x, y, or z. But when we're in the moment, it can become difficult to make that call. The question is, how do we hold ourselves accountable? How do we learn from those mistakes? Most importantly, if anyone was harmed in the process, how do we repair and rebuild if the other parties are willing?
When I think back over my last 25+ years in kink, I’ve — thankfully — had relatively few “bad” scenes. But of those, the scenes that left me with an icky feeling and/or even a bit of regret were always the ones where I led with my ego and not as my best self, or with a higher sense of purpose. Sometimes it involved scening with someone who was incredibly attractive and highly sought-after, but with whom I had no energetic connection; or with someone who had been stroking my vanity but with whom I only had a superficial connection.
That’s not to say that we have to have a deep, profound connection with all of our play partners. I’ve had amazing casual, spur-of-the-moment pick-up play with people, but it’s only been amazing and rewarding when I didn’t do it for my ego.
Thankfully, I’ve learned from those mistakes. All of the scenes I've had with play partners in the past few years (and most prior to that) have been great because I've stayed true to my highest self, and set my ego aside. I’ve gone in with the right frame of mind. Of course, that hasn’t stopped scenes from going sideways; we can go in with a healthy frame of mind and for all the right reasons and things still can — and do — go wrong; whether it’s a missed cue from a partner, or an errant strike, or even just the vibe being off.
When we lead with the ego, we run the risk of betraying ourselves and/or our judgement, regardless of what side of the slash we’re on. We don’t want to disappoint; or we don’t want to appear weak or unable to deliver as a D-type or s-type. We can be “encouraged” (read: manipulated) to move beyond our boundaries or limits because our egos don’t want to suffer the indignity of not fulfilling what our partners want, or appearing that we’re not up to the “challenge.” Bottoms can ask that we hit them harder than we’re comfortable with hitting them; tops can ask us to be a “good girl/boy/sub/slave” and do something we’re not comfortable doing. Not only can our egos get in the way of our judgement, they can lead to consent violations.
But we learn by experience … and failure. We can watch scenes in dungeons all we want, and attend all the classes on all the things, but the painful irony to all of this is that it takes those fuck-ups, both minor and major, for us to really understand exactly what it is that we need and want from our kink, and where are egos end and our higher selves begin.
While it seemed to do so that night, apparently things fell apart for them soon after.