Fetish Foibles, Part 1 – Play Partner Selection Error

Greetings, Beloved! I’m starting a little post series about mistakes that I’ve made over time as a kinkster in hopes that others will be edified and comforted. As Queen Clarisse Renaldi would say, “Don’t make the same mistakes I did…make your own mistakes!”

Today’s foible: play partner selection error. TL;DR – I suffered many fools for no good reason. #QuelleSurprise

Finding a trustworthy play partner can be a harrowing process, especially for women. So far, I haven’t had any traumatic experiences with people I’ve chosen to play and/or have sex with. I’m grateful for that. Early on, I wasted far too much time entertaining people (men) who were pushy, flaky, or just not evolved enough to engage with kink safely. 

For example, I once gave my phone number out to a guy who then revealed that he self-identified as a sociopath (a “socio”). He appeared to have no understanding of why that was a problem, and I actually tried to explain it to him

At the time, I had this strange idea that because I was a new Dominant, I had to “pay my dues” by putting up with mediocre experiences and attitudes. Please note, especially when you’re just starting to explore, mediocre experiences are part of life, even when the stars seem aligned for maximum pleasure. But there’s no need to waste time on people who don’t care about your needs. 

My first mediocre kink experience occurred on a kinky Discord server with an anonymous switch guy. I dommed him in a lengthy text-based roleplay scene (we must have texted about six hours in all!). While I enjoyed the scene, he kept wanting to interact with me as “Mistress” afterward and messaged regularly looking for dominant attention from me. I got overwhelmed and soon just stopped replying to his messages. We both made mistakes in that situation. He assumed that I would always interact with him as a Dominant without asking me what I wanted. I just went along with it and replied to his messages in the way that he wanted, feeling like it would be rude not to (until it was just too much and I had to jump ship). At the time, it didn’t occur to me that I could have said, “I enjoyed our play but I don’t have the energy to dominate you all the time” or even “Thanks for playing, but I don’t want to talk to you right now/anymore.” I was the flaky one (the flaker?) in that situation, though I don’t blame myself; he really should have known better. 

In other situations, I was the flakee. I would talk to guys who would disappear, only to pop up again weeks or even months later as though no time had passed. One guy was a combination of flaky, pushy, and unevolved. When he messaged me, I put a great deal of emotional labor into teaching him how to navigate FetLife respectfully. He ‘didn’t have time’ to go to munches. Nowadays, that would be an instant “Nope” from me. If you can make time to get fucked up the ass, you can make time to eat pancakes. Back then, I tried to be understanding. We met up briefly and scheduled a play session (we were both really interested in pegging). I bought lube, gloves, and a bulb enema for him. He cancelled at the last minute. We scheduled again. He cancelled. He tried to coax me into sending pictures of my strapon. At one point, I replied, “Too much trouble.” He didn’t message again for six weeks.

When he finally did, I was just laying the foundations of my dynamic with my current sub and told him that play was unlikely. He responded by pouting (“Oh I’m :/ well let me know if things change”). In his last message, he said he didn’t want to be “that annoying guy” but wanted to see one more time if I was interested. The sad part is, I don’t think he realizes that he became “that guy” a long time back. He was the stereotypical horny FetLife jerk, and I almost played with him. 

How do I avoid the jerks? Nowadays, I rarely consider anyone who doesn’t go to munches. And I pull back from any stranger who leaps to ‘submit’ to or ‘serve’ me for no good reason; that’s domism, and I’m not indulging it. Kink is a collaborative process. Most guys I met in my early exploration didn’t get that memo. 

I’ve also learned over time to weed out anyone who self-identifies as an “alpha male.” It leaks defensive, patriarchal shame, and I’m not taking the time to unpack that with random dudes anymore (for the record, I nope right past the “alpha females” too). My emotional labor is valuable. If a guy I’m talking to says something that rubs me the wrong way, I say so and (sometimes) give him a chance to correct himself. Seeing how someone reacts to being told “No” early on can be a great early indicator of how they’ll act later. Generally, I feel that I’m in a safe enough position to give second chances. Not everyone has that privilege, and I wouldn’t judge anyone who has more stringent boundaries. It feels good (though I roll my eyes at myself) to see how much I’ve grown in being able to set the boundaries that work for me. Do you have any “fetish foibles” to share? Had any play partner fiascos? Let me know in the comments! 

PS–Great video on how NOT to approach people in kinky contexts here

Featured image:  Caïn venant de tuer son frère Abel, by Henri Vidal in Tuileries Garden in Paris, France

File URL: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/3b/Paris_Tuileries_Garden_Facepalm_statue.jpg

Attribution: Alex E. Proimos [CC BY 2.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)] No changes were made to the image.

My First Munch

[Image description: Photo is of a gray tee-shirt with a red raised fist design and white block lettering that says “Introverts Unite…Occasionally in small groups for very limited periods of time”]

I attended my first munch in August of 2018, right after divinity school orientation ended. #Priorities. A munch is a public get-together of kinky people, usually at a restaurant. No whips or chains there, just people chatting over food. Especially for new people, munches are a great way to connect with the local kink community, make friends, and find safe play partners. 

I was quite nervous before I went, changing clothes three times–it was a true Lizzie McGuire montage–before settling on a skinny jean-combat boot-jacket ensemble. I had read that I should “dress for success.” 

Fortunately, my Uber driver didn’t ask why I was taking a twenty-minute drive to this particular IHOP when another IHOP was much closer. Feeling like a detective, I told the restaurant manager that I was looking for “the group in the back.” I found them, a merry bunch with black clothes and colorful hair. 

They made room for me but didn’t engage much at first. Starting to feel like a statue, I mustered the courage to say “I’m an introvert; please talk to me!” Miraculously, they did. We chatted about kink and ate pancakes. I felt a thrill as I told them I was in divinity school and wanted to work on the issue of sexual shame in Christianity. Everyone was friendly. 

After the munch, we carpooled to the local sex-positive dungeon. On the way, I learned that for some people, the appeal of kink isn’t sexual at all–some just like the rush of impact or the opportunity to relax into a different role for a while. 

In the play space, I met three or four white guys with scruff and glasses over the course of the night. It’s a little embarrassing to say, but in the dark, they looked so similar that I didn’t realize they were all different people at first. To this day, I’m still not sure exactly how many dudes I talked with as I sat on that leather sofa, though one of them eventually became a friend and play partner. 

Of course, even in the low light, the house bootblack noticed how scuffed my boots were. A little sheepishly, I climbed into the bootblack chair. I chatted with her shyly while she cleaned and conditioned my boots–they were too dry at that point to be polished! I have since learned how to take better care of my boots. It is now one of my sub’s tasks. 

I watched the play with scientific interest, somewhat overwhelmed by the effort to watch multiple scenes unfold simultaneously. It was easier to focus on one at a time. In one memorable scene with two women, the top (the sensation-giver) kicked and hit the bottom (the player receiving the sensation) with wooden spoons and spatulas. They both smiled and giggled the whole time. At the end of the scene, the bottom slid down the wall, laughing uncontrollably as the experience washed over her.

Watching their joyful play reminded me that I didn’t have to play a certain way to be kinky (nor did I need to act like a movie dominatrix). I’ve been back to the play space and to munches several times since then. When I’m feeling awkward, I remember that I can always wave the introvert flag, and someone will welcome me.