Kink in exile

Notes from a kinky nomad

It’s raining men

You know, it comes to my attention that meeting kinky people in a place where you are not tied into the local scene is more complicated than just finding them. Usually, when I meet someone for play I have some idea as to what their interests are. Maybe I’ve seen them play. Maybe they have a reputation in my community. For sure I can ask my friends about them. None of this is a substitute for communication, but it is a foundation that I’ve never really tried to enter into a scene negotiation with out. It’s all rather more complicated when you start with the questions “so…what do you call kinky?”

On the other hand maybe my communication skills will improve as a result.

Any advice?

Oh, and this is something I found in my personal journal that I wanted to share:
I’ve been staring at a blank page for over an hour and I have nothing. Ok, actually that isn’t true. I have 2 started posts that died after the 2nd paragraph and some angst about self identity as it relates to kink. You see, I have been thinking recently about contradictions and all the writing I should be doing about being a kinky feminist, or a kinky humanitarian aid worker, or about how sex in the NGO circus is a really, really strange beast interrupted by exotic bugs and strange social norms, but frankly I am tired of angst. Maybe I’m too old. Maybe, just maybe I have just gotten enough distance from the hormonally induced “nobody understands” horror of highschool that I can look at my life and say “yep, these are contradictions; I’m human, what’s for dinner?” I have no idea how my blog will survive this!

It is a little surprising that I feel more at home with my kink identity now that I am marooned in a conservative vanilla culture than I did when I was part of an active kink community, but maybe this just confirmed for me that kink isn’t going anywhere. It is part of my life for better or for worse and it is strong enough to survive the rest of my life.

I guess what it comes down to though is that kinky people, real kinky people not the ones you find in fantasy novels, have lives that are not all kink all the time. I have friends who have kinky sex, work in dungeons, live with kinky partners and still have bills to pay and errands to run. So yes, I am a feminist, and a humanitarian aid worker, and I’m kinky and poly and generally a member in good standing of the radical sex sewing circle, and it all just works. Sometimes it’s strange, like when I deal with issues of child slavery at a conference on human trafficking and then I read my friend’s blogs and they are talking about consensual slavery and I have to actively switch gears, but most of the time this is all just a part of life.

Written by kinkinexile

October 26, 2007 at 8:32 am

One Response

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  1. I have been entrenched in the public BDSM scene for years and I still feel horribly out of place there. Is that really just a contradiction? I don’t think it can be, when so many other people relish in how they’ve “finally come home” after joining the same community.

    It’s a failing, and it’s not my failing, it’s their’s. Or maybe I’m just stuck in perpetual high school angst.


    October 26, 2007 at 5:07 pm

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